I Will Stop Your Mouth

Some evenings are spent in the service of love.

I am enraptured with my latest CD, I Love You, Honeybear by Father John Misty, partly because of his voice - clear, assured - but mostly because it's a young man's album about meeting and falling in love with a woman and he sings it with the passion of someone really falling for the first time.

People are boring
but you're something else completely
Damn, let's take our chances
I wanna take you in the kitchen
Lift up your wedding dress someone was probably murdered in
So bourgeoisie to keep waiting
Dating for 20 years just feels pretty civilian...

Pulling into Agecroft for the 17th annual Richmond Shakespeare Festival, I was instructed to park anywhere but on the grass (please, I wasn't raised by wolves). In line waiting for the house to open, the Young Players amused the crowd with scenes from various works. I watched as a scene from Troilus and Cressida played out, Troilus madly wooing Cressida (or was it the reverse?).

The amusing house manager finally let us in, but only after instructing us not to sit on anyone else (rude), nor in the aisle (or be trampled by actors) and, most importantly, not to sit on any chairs that had blue tape on them. "They have acid or something on them," he said nonchalantly.

Inside, I nabbed a non-acidic seat next to a Lynchburg couple who'd come to see their daughter perform. They were having the usual reaction a first-time visitor to Agecroft has: awe and reverence. What, Lynchburg doesn't have a late 15th century house that was removed from England and reassembled on the banks of the James? Pity.

Not sure about the later temperature, they'd toted in beach towels while I'd made sure to have a wrap and a scarf in case it got chilly. We talked about what they'd seen in Richmond so far. "There's a lot going on here!" the husband observed. You don't say?

The row of people behind me were amusing ("Hey, you had on that same shirt the last time I saw you") me as I heard one ask another if he read a certain graphic novel series. "Cause, you know, the main female character in that is named after Hero in this play." Hey, at least he knew the point of origin.

We were all there for Quill Theater's Much Ado About Nothing, surely one of the easiest and most enjoyable of Shakespeare's comedies.

Joshua Daniels as the constable, Dogberry, announced himself as a very funny man with an opening speech explaining with Dogberry's typical malapropisms what to expect tonight.

Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again?

As many times as I've seen this play, I never tire of its banter between Beatrice and Benedick as they work so hard at denying their attraction to each other.

To be merry best becomes you.

Strong performances by Donna Marie Miller and especially Dave White in the title roles helped draw those less familiar with the story in while allowing those of us who know it well to just sit back and enjoy the fireworks.

If they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.

This year, the festival is starting performances at 7:30 instead of 8, but as in past years (and I went to the first festival 17 years ago), once dusk begins its descent into night, fireflies swirl around the audience and tonight, frogs croaked loudly while Benedick gave a monologue.

She loves him with an enraged affection.

I watched as the couple next to me experienced for the first time the clever way the production used the courtyard space. When there was eavesdropping going on, characters hid behind the "bower," a trio of plastic topiaries that lent a green note to the stage.

Happy are they that can hear their detractions and put them to mending.

Because I know the story so well, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that some people have no idea where this play is going. At the end of the first act, an older man near me leaned forward, hands on knees and said to his wife, "I smell trouble brewing!"

I used intermission to buy M & Ms, share them with a stranger ("What about not taking candy from strangers?") and walk the gardens, admiring the delphiniums, foxglove, poppies and zinnias that made them look so charmingly English in design. I wandered as far as the rolling lawn so I could see the river at the bottom of the hill before it was completely dark.

The second act began with three characters - the watchmen of Messina - coming in, weapons in hand and falling asleep, snoring loudly on benches onstage. Their nap stretched out far longer than the crowd anticipated (nervous giggling after a while), giving the stragglers time to get back from the bathroom or snack cart in time for the real action.

Neighbors, you are tedious!

Call me a romantic, but I'm a big fan of the scenes where Beatrice and Benedick have been convinced that the other is in love and begin to let their guard down. "I do love nothing in the world so much as you," Benedick lets slip, only to follow it with a regretful "Ah!" when he realizes he's given himself away. So the man who said he'd never marry is having a change of heart.

No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.

Alright, so he's no Father John Misty, if you know what I'm saying, but White did a splendid job of showing the arc of a man who is convinced he can live without love and a woman, only to fall hard. Oldest story in the book, still one of the most appealing.

Note to locals and visitors alike: sitting under the stars laughing at 500 year old lines, watching an energetic cast wind their way around to a happy ending, has to be one of the finest pleasures of summer in Richmond.

Suffer Love!  A good epithet. I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

And they got married ("To bind me or undo me, one of them") and danced and lived happily ever after. I'm guessing Benedick was also of the opinion that dating for 20 years just feels pretty civilian.

Leaving Agecroft, I had half a mind to finish the evening with some dancing of my own - No BS Brass band was playing the penultimate show at Balliceaux - but driving by, I saw a line that stretched down the block and doors didn't even open for a while. Maybe not.

Maybe it's enough to have seen a well-executed evening of begrudging yet enthusiastic wooing, a killer combination.

I haven't hated all the same things
as somebody else
since I can remember.
What's going on for?
What are you doing with your whole life?
How about forever?

Skirmish of Wits

Lest it look like I took a night off, I offer an abbreviated version of a stellar night.

Joining the happy hour crowd at the Magpie, it was all about tuna crudo and rabbit liver mousse with a refreshing Villa Wolf Pinot Gris to wash down the offerings from land and sea.

Seeking a movie that required higher than a third grade intellect among a selection of action/adventure/comedy summer blockbusters delivered us to the Criterion for "Much Ado About Nothing."

Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Honestly, I could see well-executed Shakespeare every week of my life. Especially in an air-conditioned theater.

I can see why theaters used to advertise their "frigid air" along with the latest western and newsreel.

Post-Ado, we stopped at Avenue 805 for wine and a trip in the way back machine.

During a recent replacement of the restaurant's booths, the owner had come across an old menu from 1999.

That would be back when you could get a glass of wine for $3.50.

Or half what a well-priced glass is now. Whoa.

Remembering that I was making way more money in 1999 than I do now, a $3.50 glass of wine sounds mighty appealing now.

Our last stop was on the Robinson Street corridor at Michael's Pies and Pints where a decent-sized crowd was celebrating the transition from Thursday to Friday.

Fortified by couplets and plenty of wine over the course of the evening, I tried a slice of their "Napoleon" pizza (as their FB page boasts), if for no other reason than that they clearly know nothing about Neapolitan pizza.

And despite having had plenty of notable pizza in Naples last fall, for a post-midnight pepperoni and onion slice of pie in Richmond, it was perfectly okay.

Tepid praise, indeed, but considering how outstanding the rest of the evening had been, it didn't need to be any more than that.

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy if I could say how much.

With an Energized Affection

Thunder and Shakespeare, it's a match made in heaven.

On my to-do list this week was seeing "Much Ado About Nothing," further confirmed when a loyal blog reader informed me that if I loved life, I needed to see this.

I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.

With a fellow Shakespeare lover in tow, we found seats in the theater, the one with the giant windows on the side of the building.

Moments before the previews began, the red shades lowered and all was dark.

It was an ideal start to the new black and white version of "MAAN,"

I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face.

As the bickering Beatrice and Benedick proclaimed their distaste for each other, moments of silence allowed the thunder outside to be plainly heard inside.

It was fitting, given the tempestuous nature of their relationship.

And to be merry best becomes you.

The film was exquisitely filmed in black and white, in that way that makes you forget about color entirely.

And for anyone who'd scoff at Shakespeare on film, I have news for you. It was laugh-out-loud funny.

She mocks all her wooers out of suit.

The party scene, especially, was mesmerizing, with "Hey, Nonnie, Nonnie" music and graceful trapeze artists suspended overhead.

It was the kind of party I'd love to attend.

The glory shall be ours, for we are the only love gods.

The beauty of this adaptation was how contemporary it was, not in language, but in setting and dress.

Since we usually see Shakespeare done live, getting to see it up close - facial gestures, whispered phrases, intimate gestures - was much more of a treat than I'd anticipated.

But till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.

The cast was excellent, tossing off the Bard's English in a way that any moron could understand.

Even the four girls sitting next to us who texted through the pre-film on-screen admonishment not to text or e-mail during the film, laughed occasionally.

For which of my bad parts did thou first fall in love with me?

The whole movie had the feel of a long weekend party with friends, one where something was always happening, but you had to be around to be privy to it.

In other words, the very best kind of screwball comedy.

Every detail was brilliantly conceived, whether bottles on a window ledge, a bouquet tossed on the ground or a nosy Beatrice bumping into everything in the room in her haste to hear what is being said about her.

Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

I was enchanted from beginning to end, caught up in a black and white Woody Allen-world where people say the cleverest things and inevitably fall for the ones who give them the best wordplay.

I will stop your mouth.

The subplot about the hilarious and inane constable Dogberry trying to track down bad guys is beyond hysterical with his mispronounced words and misplaced bravado.

Man is a giddy thing.

It's not just man; this woman was giddy with delight by the time Hero and Claudio and Beatrice and Benedick wed.

The funniest part?

The dumb girls next to me never saw it coming.

"Oh, it's her!" one exclaimed when Claudio's bride was revealed to be his love.

You were right, CW, this is a movie for people who love life.

Besides, I've heard being merry becomes me. Bad parts and all.

Much Ado About Estrogen

As much of a theater lover as I am, I am devoted to plays turned on their ears.

One of my all time favorite examples was seeing TheaterVirginia do an all-black version of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof."

Talk about taking Southern dysfunction to a whole new level.

Likewise, last July Firehouse did a staged reading of a gender-reversed "Hamlet," here, that I still rave to people about.

And tonight I got all those girl parts in comedic form with a gender-reversed "Much Ado About Nothing."

I knew enough to arrive by 7:00 to ensure a seat (and a good one, at that) for all the fun. It was a smart move.

"For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?"

Tonight's performance was dedicated to Freddy Kaufman, an actor who had originally been part of the cast until he took ill.

Having seen his comedic presence grace more than one stage, I appreciated the loss.

"I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue."

Molly Hood, who had played Hamlet, here deftly played the confirmed bachelor Benedick, even as he fought off feelings for the strong-willed Beatrice.

Director Billy Christopher Maupin doubled as Beatrice, as fierce a girlfriend as I've ever had.

"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably."

Unlike the last time girls were playing boys, the crowd tonight made no obvious sounds of disbelief  when certain lines came from an unlikely face.

Granted, there are far more female characters in this play than "Hamlet," so maybe we got used to it more quickly.

"Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me."

It's difficult to make some men understand, but given how male-centric Shakespeare's plays are, it's a huge kick to see one staged with eighteen women and only four men.

With some top-notch local actresses on board, it was a pleasure to hear them speak the words of men.

"For I will be horribly in love with her," Benedick admits.

Horribly in love is so much more intense than terribly in love, I think.

"Do you not love me?"
"No more than reason."

So much of the reading was laugh-out-loud funny because of all the gender issues, relationship and love talk and the stubbornness of the unmarried.

"When I said I would a die a bachelor,  I did not think I should live till I was married."

As the actors moved around (for actors at these staged readings thankfully never actually sit and read) on stage, it was hard not to appreciate the talent involved in selling yourself as the opposite sex.

One of my favorites was Lisa Kotula as the hilarious Dogberry, he of the endless malapropisms ("Thou will be condemned into everlasting redemption for this") and usually played by someone far less attractive.

But aside from all the mistaken identities, trickery, and purported infidelity, it's really just that old chestnut of a hard-headed woman and a confirmed bachelor who are destined to be together.

It was out of their hands.

"Come, I will have thee."

By the end of the play, everyone was married so the dancing and singing began. Whether they lived happily ever after or not, we'll never know.

But surely being horribly in love is a good start.