Much Ado Has Much To Do

I first reviewed the Baron’s Men a year ago, delighting in their Romeo and Juliet. The play was great! But I was deeply, irrevocably smitten with the venue. The Curtain Theatre, a space dedicated to Elizabethan and Jacobean performance art, stole my heart. It’s not a period-perfect re-creation of the Globe, but it came close enough. Its charm became one of my Top 10 favorite discoveries last year.

Now I’m fervently hoping I don’t have a poisoned pen. Because the 7400 Coldwater Canyon property is being sold, and the Curtain as we know it is closing. (The company has launched a relocation fundraising campaign.) 

The Baron’s Men, who just celebrated 20 years of residency in the lakeside theatre, now bid an unexpected farewell to the space with Much Ado About Nothing. Some lovely symmetry there, since it also served as the company’s inaugural production in 2002. Much Ado speedraces Shakespeare’s greatest hits with warmth and charm. It’s a rousing romance at heart, with the prickly pair of Beatrice and Benedick setting the standard for the enemies-to-lovers trope. There’s sweetness with the innocence of Hero and Claudio’s romance, pure villainy with Don John causing chaos just because he can, hidden identities with a masquerade, bumbling comedy with watchman Dogberry, and even tortured darkness with a post-intermission turn toward false accusations and pretend deaths. 

It’s rich with the Bard’s best, and director Lindsay M. Palinsky leads the Baron’s Men in paying fitting homage. The first half, with couples coming together and sparring mercilessly, is so full of mirth I seriously doubted these joyful players could hold it together for the serious moments to come. Jacquelyn Lies’ Beatrice moved with such infectious impishness that I couldn’t imagine her being anything other than cuttingly witty. But when the time came for her to exude heartbreak, Lies crackled in a storm of sorrow, giving in to love and calling for revenge with deadly seriousness. She was matched by Timothy McKinney’s Benedick, who did indeed seem the “Prince’s Fool” at first, a spry jester with the mocking vocal timbre of Bugs Bunny. But he sure showed me during the second half. Bugs Bunny gave way to the threatening tenor of Joe Pesci, a shocking jump away from clown to cutthroat. 

Everyone stepped up their game in the second, either from a rousing backstage intermission speech or from seeing the warmth of a house packed with receptive audiences here to celebrate the end of an era. Some viewers came in Elizabethan finery, many did the appropriate villain hissing at every appearance of Michael Pratt’s Don John – playing the role with a queer camp that added a fresh take to a one-note meanie – and most brought in delicious picnic spreads to nosh on during the show. It was a party of a play, gaining speed as the drama marched on. 

Todd Jeffrey’s Leonato relaxed as his houseguests stayed longer. Rylee Ross’ lovestruck Claudio, while always holding a sweet naivete reminiscent of Robert Sean Leonard’s performance in the Branagh film, also became more confident in their overtures. There was a twist in Dogberry becoming Audrey Renkenberger’s Lady Dogberry, but her comedic thunder was utterly stolen by her manservant/transportation, Jared Walls’ Verges.

Much Ado About Nothing is a gorgeous and witty work about saying goodbye to grudges and overcoming errors in judgment so people can come together for the greater good. Unfortunately, such things seem firmly in the realm of fantasy in this modern world. Rather than overcoming differences to band together, Austin has splintered a singular art space in service of the almighty dollar. Because why have something truly unique when you can give tourists waterfront luxury? Why invest in community when there are strangers willing to ravage the land? Instead, this production carries a sweet sorrow in reminding us that, like the fraudulent men in Much Ado’s “Sigh No More” song, Austin remains “to one thing, constant never.”

This article appears in October 17 • 2025.