A Little Light Music

When I said "lighten up," I didn't mean the hair.

The quality of that clip is terrible – if you gave up on it, here's the gist: it's the terrific character actor Timothy Spall zipping through "I Get a Kick Out of You" (he's singing about the country wench who stole his heart, anti-women proclamation be damned). It's one of the better production numbers of the film, and I think it's fairly representative of the charms of the piece. It's silly, yes, but also funny and inventive and affectionately recalling the old MGM spectacles of the 30s and 40s.

Despite the era/costume tweak, it's Branagh's most literal adaptation. Case in point: In case you didn't get it, post-monologue, that he totally loves the lady Rosaline, he slips into the "Cheek to Cheek" to hit the point home, and in case you still didn't get it, when he gets to the line "Heaven, I'm in heaven..." he actually sails toward the ceiling on an invisible wire.

It's impossible to watch the scene without a good guffaw... and also a gentle twinkling in the heart. Like I said, it's an imperfect film, but it's got a remarkable spirit about it – and it's funny, sometimes really funny. Nathan Lane plays Costard the clown as if Groucho Marx took a wrong right turn into Shakespearia, and he nails it, using sight gags and cheeky asides to help us along in getting humor that plays more woodenly on the page.

And then there's Branagh. As a director, I salute him for his vision, even if it hits only half the time, but as an actor, I salute him for just lightening up. Love's Labour's Lost and Much Ado About Nothing make for me pretty strong cases that this – comedy – is Branagh's true element. I love his Henry V dearly, but I think he especially works in that role because of the boyishness of the king, the sincere, stirring patriotism of his St. Crispin's Day speech, and his sweet, gentle woo of Katharine in pidgin French. But his Hamlet makes me want to tear out my hair – his hair, too (I'm not sure my eyes have yet recovered from that sissy shock of white-blond). Yeah, the movie is an art director's wet dream, but Hamlet's encounter with his father's ghost has all the subtlety and special effects quality of a theme park ride, and his performance ... ack. Methinks the showy Branagh leans too heavily on flying spittle, and frankly, he's too much of a hambone to play believably the tortured prince.

There. I said it. He's a goofball. But with lighter material to work with, that goofiness works, and rather endears. Love's Labour's Lost is nothing if not goofy – and I enjoyed the hell out of this winning little spot of goof after wandering so long in the desert of thundering tragedy.