STAGE REVIEW : A Rewarding but Strange ‘Much Ado’

Ah, summer is here, kids are at play, folks are basking in the sun and Shakespeare is alfresco with “Much Ado About Nothing” at the John Anson Ford Amphitheatre, care of Shakespeare Festival/LA. Nice, light ‘n’ easy. . . .

Think again.

“Much Ado” is very much about something: adult love, the collapse of the ego in the face of moral responsibility, justice and culpability, the various ways the sexes abuse each other. And even though it is summer and alfresco and the amphitheater crowd is a lot more democratic than the usual stage audience (thanks to Shakespeare Festival’s admission policy of a donated can of food), the serious side of “Much Ado” is center stage in Kevin Kelley’s production.

In fact, it’s a surprise to hear how the emotions get whipped up in the second half (when the plot turns dark) and how Kelley’s actors get the juices flowing. That is because the first half (when the plot is mostly harmless wordplay and romance) isn’t the tonic it should be, with almost every comic moment blunted.

The result is rewarding yet strange: a “Much Ado” more at home with drama than comedy.

It’s hard to believe that this is what Kelley intends, since “Much Ado” contains some of Shakespeare’s most brilliant (and sexual) rhyming and punning, and, though danger lurks behind every love tryst in the form of the bitter, evil Don John (Paul Perri), love and wit do triumph. They even ensnare those cynics and burned-out veterans of courtship, Benedick and Beatrice (Steven Grives and Gwynyth Walsh).

Perhaps with more performances (the sold-out run at the 1,200-seat theater has been extended to include a Thursday night show before it moves downtown), the kinks could be worked out. They include a nasty body-miking problem: Whole lines were lost during Friday’s preview performance because of static, with voices going loud, then soft, depending on which way heads were facing.

What fades in and out even more, though, is the sense of place. The program notes take great pains to explain Kelley’s updated setting, from the original Sicily to Jekyll Island, and how it was early 20th-Century America’s playground of the rich. It might be a place that the wealthy Leonato (D. Paul Thomas) could lord over.

But since Kelley has also updated it to 1932, what are these naval soldiers doing disembarking at this Gatsby-esque resort? And why does Grives’ Benedick speak with a British accent? And why do people address the men as signior ? And why does Leonato live in a tiny, box-like house (designed by Fred M. Duer), tucked into the middle of a gazebo arrangement? It’s as if someone once had a map of this world, then lost it.

Part-American, part-Italian, part-British, Kelley’s production at first feels like one of those dreaded European movies co-produced by half the Continent. Even Jonathan Sacks’ original music comes unglued, unable to blend American jazz with Elizabethan form.

Walsh settles things down somewhat as Beatrice, tossing off bright verbal daggers at any man who dares parry with her. This is a very mature Beatrice, the wheels always spinning, a smirk at the corner of her lips for a world she is trapped in with idiots.

Grives, on the other hand, seems unlikely as a boastful bachelor. He may be surpassingly handsome, but he looks uncomfortable in anything but a uniform. He’s neither a eunuch nor a playboy, but Grives hasn’t found what Benedick is exactly. Still, he nicely indicates how Benedick’s spite for old nemesis Beatrice is too forced for anyone to believe.

Only one player in the languid love games does the comedy justice: Geoffrey Lower’s Claudio, smitten by Leonato’s daughter, Hero (Deirdre Imershein), and always in need of a little help to get through the courtship.

What is amazing about “Much Ado” is how it transforms itself from the comedy of predicament to a drama of morality. John has fooled Claudio into believing that Hero saw another man on the night before her wedding, and thus rebuking her at the altar. Beatrice, enraged at Claudio for his abuse of Hero, demands Benedick duel Claudio. The question is then tossed at us: Would we challenge a friend if the person we loved demanded it as an act of faith?

Something magical happens. Actors previously reading the language but not playing it, come alive with a sense of commitment. Kelley’s cast becomes completely riveting as the stakes increase.

In the middle of all this, Lance Davis’ Dogberry, the tongue-tied island constable becomes a startling comic figure. Davis bends and toys with every line, teetering like a figure drawn by a drunken artist.

There’s nothing tougher to pull off in Shakespeare than mood swings, but when things get tough, Kelley’s production gets going. Shakespeare Festival/LA’s shows used to be nothing more than cute versions of the comedies for the summer crowd. Now, it’s sending the crowd home to think about something.

At 2580 Cahuenga Blvd., on Thursday through Friday, 7:30, and at Citicorp Plaza, Seventh Market Place, downtown, on July 18-21 and 25-28, 6:45 p.m., until July 28. Admission: donations of canned food to benefit the needy; (213) 489-1121.