|Starring||Alexis Denisof, Amy Acker, Fran Kranz, Jillian Morgese, Clark Gregg, Nathan Fillion|
|Release||7 JUN (US) 14 JUN (UK) Certificate 12A|
Far from it being a limitation though, the wonderful rhythmic lines of the Bard's colourful phrasing becomes the main reason why the film is such a delight. It even made this jaded ex-scholar of Shakespeare’s works remember what it was like to enjoy his writing without the joy-killing effort of analysing every syllable. And it seems clear that, for a vocal Shakespeare fan who famously holds frequent readings of his work, this has been Whedon’s goal all along. In a film that could be considered to have limitations in every other regard – it is, after all, a low-budget, black-and-white production filmed in Whedon’s own home while he took a brief break from Avenger duties – it is the writing and the dialogue that is made to shine. That is to say, in the absence of any real spectacle, the language here is Much Ado About Nothing’s special effect.
Although, of course, that shouldn’t take away from the marvellous performances on show. For a film that is so obviously populated by friends and colleagues from the Whedonverse (the poster might as well credit “Him off of Buffy! Her off of Angel! Him off of Firefly! Er… Him off of Dollhouse!”), the casting hardly seems based on familiarity and availability alone.
Fran Kranz boosts the zany stoner credentials he earned in Cabin In The Woods to play a raw and immature Claudio, whose impending nuptials to Jillian Morgese’s Hero forms the backdrop to this film. It is, however, Benedick (Denisof) and Beatrice (Acker) that really take centre stage as the cynical friends of each of the betrothed, bickering with each other until – you guessed it – they realise their true feelings for each other. While Amy Acker’s sharp-witted Beatrice can easily be added to Whedon’s ever-growing list of well-written, empowered women, her stubbornness frequently leads to comical foolishness. Meanwhile Alexis Denisof’s Benedick is the arrogant ladies man who becomes undone and goofy in Beatrice’s presence. When together, the pair exhibit the same sparkling chemistry that made them such a good pairing to root for back in Whedon’s TV days of fists and fangs.
Luckily, for those struggling to keep up with the farcical events that unravel toward the front of the screen, the background actors all provide much-simpler mirth and merriment. Clark Gregg gives Coulson-like cynicism another run-out, while Sean Maher makes for a devilish, deviant villain. The spoils, however, go to the comedy partnership of Nathan Fillion and Tom Lenk who, as the bumbling policemen Dogberry and Verges, provide silly, slapstick laughs, many of which appear to be unscripted.
Overall, the film seems like a difficult sell to those who aren’t already indoctrinated in Whedon’s career to date, but this isn’t simply a personal project released in cinemas to cash-in on his recent success. Whether you are a fully fledged Shakespeare scholar or an iambic pent-amateur, Whedon has yet again succeeded in assuaging all fears and delivering a well-balanced film that concentrates first and foremost on keeping its audience entertained.