Much Ado About Nothing at TIFF
The following is a completely biased review of Joss Whedon’s adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing, written by someone who has followed the man’s work religiously for ten years, and would probably enjoy a three-hour documentary about plywood, were it writ by the scribe of Dr. Horrible.
It is, in a word, delightful. Much Ado is the kind of intellectual, carefree fun that seems to exist only in history. Modern cerebral fare is dark, modern popcorn entertainment adolescent. To find my gentler emotions tickled by elizabethan turns-of-phrase delivered by some of my favourite actors was a rare pleasure.

Amy Acker is wry and radiant as Beatrice, conveying the biting wit of her character balanced with a femininity too-oft ignored in many portrayals of this female foil. Alexis Denisof plays an endearing Benedick, porting some hilarious physical comedy while eavesdropping on the Prince’s (contrived) conversation regarding Beatrice’s alleged infatuation with him. Clark Gregg, Fran Kranz, Sean Maher,and Reed Diamond nail their roles, although have less time for modern re-interpretation than Acker and Denisof. A late arrival by Nathan Fillion, playing against type as the lovably incompetent constable Dogberry, maintains the light-hearted atmosphere through the second half as events elsewhere in the plot become dark.
Joss and his team are en route to become masters of filmmaking. That the film is black and white subtly reminds the viewer that we’re watching history. The camerawork alternates deftly between handheld for flippant comedy, and Wes Anderson-style dolly shots for more serious interior moments. At all times, the lens seems to linger lovingly on the features of the beautiful house, Whedon’s own, which serves him for a stage.
Though the text is four-hundred years old, this treatment is accessible and relatable. The setting of a modern elite political family makes it easy to imagine these events taking place among the Kennedys, or a less wholesome version of the Obamas. The cast’s performance serves the plot on a platter for the layman, while the rapid-fire dialogue leaves the learned viewer wanting to go back and appreciate each tiny nuance and double-entendre they may have missed.
Even inconvenient anachronisms, such as Shakespeare’s offhanded racism, are played as self-aware comedy. Claudio pledges to love Don Pedro’s niece even “were she an Ethiope”, with an african woman framed prominently behind him.
The magical final shot begins as a wide view on the final celebration, then does an agile pan-zoom over to Beatrice and Benedick, wrapped in each other’s arms away from the crowd. As they went about their day, everyone in the theatre thought back on that image once or twice, and could not suppress a grin. Much Ado About Nothing is a rare pleasure which I look forward to enjoying many times in the future.





