Frankly, I hardly need to write anything. Just look at that main image. The joy! The fun! The silliness! The sizzling star power!
That Tom Hiddleston and Hayley Atwell as Shakespeare’s ‘fickle feuders who secretly fancy the pants off each other’ Benedick and Beatrice should be an utter delight is no shock. The added twerking, running man and chest-baring (all Tom, obvs) are just a bonus for the hyperventilating fans.
The revelation is director Jamie Lloyd. Known for his trademark monochromatically moody stark stagings and plastic chairs, microphone stands and handheld cameras, he just delivered an underwhelming Tempest with Sigourney Weaver and divided opinion with Tom Holland’s Romeo and Juliet.
Blissfully, the cameras and mike stands have gone. The chairs, though, have been unleashed to live their best lives in the numerous giddy song and dance scenes the punctuate this frothy confection of courtly shenanigans. As did every soul in the theatre, who audibly had a blast throughout and thundered to their feet for the jubilant ovation/curtain call boogie.
The greatest joy was hearing every whip-cracking quip and caustic couplet greeted with hoots of laughter. There was rapt silence, too, for the darker passages, sighs for the tender moments and whoops for the snogging. 425 years later, in the hands of a director and cast on electrifying form, Shakepeare’s sublime language still makes our souls sing.
Lloyd has trimmed the text, notably removing the comedic watchmen, but cuts to the chase (and heart) of the machinations of friends to trick Benedick and Beatrice into facing their feelings, while foes almost destroy the young love of Hero and Claudio (Mara Huff and James Phoon, both delightful).
The whole cast, many of whom also appeared in The Tempest, are flawless, delivering joyous character work and fluid delivery that makes the text sound natural and contemporary.
Mason Alexander Park, who stole the show as a bewitching Ariel in the Tempest, shines as Hero’s maid Margaret and brings their glorious husky vocals to a succession of pop tunes from Groove Is In The Heart to When Love Takes Over.
Forbes Masson is ripely ribald as Hero’s father Leonato but also affectingly devastated and wrathful when he thinks her virtue compromised.
The staging is simple, yet simply divine. Blizzards of pink confetti cascade down and carpet a bare stage backed by a huge inflatable red heart. Both are used ingeniously and hilariously when Benedick tries to hide from his friends.
Hiddleston is clearly having a ball. He knows what the crowds want and delivers smirks, smoulders and booty shakes with abandon, matched by a magnetically magnificent Atwell.
Even Lloyd’s penchant for meta mischief, like grating nods to Andrew Lloyd Webber and the Pussycat Dolls in his Sunset Boulevard, works a treat here because it matches the tone. Cheeky references to the leading couple’s Marvel alter-egos are a hoot.
This show is camp, mischievous, exuberant, romantic, life, love and laughter-affirming bliss.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING IS ON AT THE THEATRE ROYAL DRURY LANE TO APRIL 5