If you venture deep into the National Theatre’s backstage labyrinth, taking a series of slightly confusing lefts and rights, you may find your way to Rehearsal Room 1. This is where nearly all rehearsals for this production of Much Ado About Nothingwill take place over the next seven weeks. Before the cast and director arrive, the room is quiet but for the jangles of the stage management team, who are busy sorting out paperwork and props, and anticipating the arrival of company members at 10.30am.

This room has a simultaneously makeshift and magnificient feel to it: it is quite large, with high ceilings and windows right at the top that allow a sliver of natural light in (something that one rarely finds in rehearsal rooms). Evocative collages of costume inspirations are pinned to one wall; in the opposite corner a detailed model box of the set illustrates how the playing space will be divided into several sections. The dimensions of the Olivier theatre’s stage are marked out on the floor with tape, and a version of the drum revolve demonstrates how the rotations of the set may work in performance. On top of it are four plinths, which are divided by vertical planks of wood and linked together by mesh to emulate the much more detailed set design. To the edges of the room are large tables for the stage managers, on top of which sit a tall pile of scripts, and published reference copies of the play. There are also neat stacks of chairs, candelabras, baskets, rifles, suitcases, benches and bedframes – all very rustic-looking, already suggesting the Sicilian context of the play.

The first of the cast arrive, and introductions begin. The room soon has over 70 people in it – there are 25 cast members as well as staff from the numerous departments of the theatre. This is the first day’s meet-and-greet, and the director, Nicholas Hytner, shouts over the noise of conversation for everyone to gather in a large circle and “perform the ritual”. By this he means a round of introductions, followed by his summary of the concepts for the production.

Nick starts by saying that he “couldn’t be happier with who agreed to be in this show… you’re all so good I think I can just sit back and have a jolly good time!” After gathering everyone in front of the model box he talks about the set (designed by Vicki Mortimer) commenting that “the period a Shakespeare production is set in is the first question you ask, although it needn’t always be. In this case, we’re looking at Messina [Sicily] in 1598, the year this play was first performed. In Shakespeare these questions [about time and place] are never straightforward, as he always invented a world that could absorb everything he needs it to do. Here, we can be comfortably contemporary, with both the textures from 16th-century Italy and from now. The set we have here reflects that Messina was a relatively important town… We have the piazza, interiors, facades of houses and the more contemporary suggestion of alleyways.” Nick spins the central turntable of the model box around to reveal a pool on one side of the drum revolve, and a cheeky sparkle appears in his eyes: “Maybe someone could fall in! It’s that sort of thing!”

The set design enables many different staging options for the playful elements of the comedy, and Nick talks about how he thinks this play “doesn’t have a sense of strife or military action offstage, unlike other plays he [Shakespeare] wrote”. He says “the play seems rooted in a real house, an eccentric house. There are so many women – including named female servants who could just as easily be men, but the fact that these characters have names says something important. I think there’s an eruption of male energy into a very female environment.”

There are many puns in the title of this play. Nick discusses these, as they are clues to how the play might be interpreted. “One is much ado about a thing that didn’t happen – Hero’s infidelity. Another is much ado about the weight of the marriage between Hero and Claudio – they enter into it so quickly, so lightly. There’s also a more bawdy connotation – ‘no thing’ was slang for the female pudenda. Finally, there’s also the idea that in Elizabethan times, ‘nothing’ was pronounced ‘noting’, which means overhearing. You’d be in danger from being overheard or overhearing constantly in this world at this time.”

Nick also talks about how the play tackles the dilemma of couples getting together and staying together. “One couple [Hero and Claudio] have fallen in love too quickly, and one couple [Beatrice and Benedick] take an age to fall in love. I’m interested in how that works, and why love so often fails … It’s an extraordinarily touching portrait of two tricky grown-ups who open themselves up to each other unexpectedly.”

At that, Nick finishes his introduction, and prompts a ten-minute tea break, after which “we’ll just get on with a read-through, I’m no-nonsense … no throwing bean bags around here!” (referring to theatre warm-up or cast bonding exercises).

A wide circle of chairs is set up to accommodate the whole cast, and they each take a place, script in hand. The first read-through can be quite nerve-racking for actors, and to help diffuse this Nick announces “I look on this as a necessary evil, but it’s good for figuring out who plays what. It’s not about giving a performance.”

The cast start at a cracking pace that doesn’t let up for two hours. Simon Russell Beale shows immediate, devilish delight in Benedick’s sillier moments. And, impressively, he’s very close to being ‘off script’. Andrew Woodall’s Don John has a wry drawl, a contrast to others that marks his character as an outsider, and a ‘bad guy’. Zoë Wanamaker’s reading of Beatrice is confident and brittle, showing her character’s hurt at the things others say about her behind her back, but is also cheeky and flirtatious. At the end of the read-through Nick seems very pleased: “You’ve all dealt instinctively with the language in the way I hoped – light, not too much fuss, clear.”

Director Nick Hytner. Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

For the rest of the first week the company remain in the seated circle, and begin the task of reading through the play again. This time, however, they go slowly, stopping regularly to clarify the text – usually by referring to different editions of the play – each of which provide notes and commentary on the text. Oliver Ford Davies, playing Leonato, proves a goldmine of information on all manner of things: Italian history, prose structure, social hierarchical arrangements and obscure details of the text. Nick has also delegated “homework” to volunteers. Allocations include films set in Sicily (for visual inspiration), Elizabethan law and order, Italian and Elizabethan army life and Italian carnival masque.

The fine textual analysis prompts lots of questions, and from these discussions some decisions about relationships, context and characterisation start to be made. These discussions are also frequently funny: in Act 2, scene 1 Beatrice says “So deliver I up my apes, and away Saint Peter for the heavens”. Checking the published editions of the play reveals that this refers to a proverb of an old maid whose fate was to lead apes (considered less than human) to hell. Simon pretends to be a confused audience member who might take this literally: “She has apes? Why would Beatrice have apes?!” Of course she doesn’t, but talking through details that may not be clear to contemporary audiences allows for a more intimate knowledge of the play to develop.

As they work through the sparring dialogues between Beatrice and Benedick there’s parallel jousting between Zoë and Simon. In good humour, they compete for the “Italian comedic opera” moment of falling in the pool as they each eavesdrop (during the ‘gulling scenes’ – for Benedick, Act 2, Scene 3; Beatrice Act 3, Scene 1). Simon claims it to be logistically easier for a man to fall in than a woman: “wet wigs, corsets … oh it would be so complicated … plus, I know that Zoë got my dressing room!” Zoë, her eye still on the pool moment, later retorts “Yes, but he gets all the best lines!”

By the end of the second day Nick says he’s keen to “get it up on its feet”, but Simon resists: “I love this [discussion], and if we don’t do this now, we never will.” Nick is sympathetic, later commenting “I don’t want you to feel that I’m hustling you along, it’s just that I always hear people moan that they’ve been sitting around for two and a half weeks.” Simon obviously respects this, but points to “all that we’ve found out so far. There are things you just don’t get when you’re on your feet because you’re always thinking about something physical.”

Friday concludes with a read-through by the understudy cast, led by staff director Nadia Fall. Many of the understudies have been sitting in on rehearsal, so they have a good sense of what has been going on, but for those who haven’t there is a summary of important decisions thus far. The understudy cast is already developing similarities with the principal cast, and Nadia’s recap of the developments of rehearsal show just how far the show has come in the first week.

The second week kicks off with rehearsing a scene “on its feet”. All rehearsals to date have been seated in a circle of chairs, reading and discussing the text, so this marks the first physicalisation of a scene. It’s an exciting and invigorating stage, and the actors are obviously raring to go. They can now put into practice everything they’ve been analysing of the language and ideas, and start to explore the potential options of performing the scene.

This transition starts with a quick, seated read-through of the scenes with Dogberry and his companion, Verges. There’s a discussion about how the concept of the Watch is a liberty taken by Shakespeare, as it is closer to an English view of law and order than a Sicilian view. Trevor Peacock (Verges) says that characters in his position didn’t have much authority, and were more concerned with getting people from the pub to their homes quietly and “ensuring no whistling in the streets after 9pm” than catching criminals – hence the banter about their duties in Act 3, scene 3.

The next scene, in which these characters try to tell Leonato of Borachio’s scheming (Act 3, scene 5) is also read through. There’s a discussion about how much time has passed between the two scenes, and therefore how accurate the delivery of the overheard information from the Second Watchman to Dogberry might have been. Oliver Ford Davies (Leonato) observes of the flawed communication in this scene, “I think what Shakespeare’s saying is that too much talk obscures the point… Beatrice and Benedick, for example, are unable to get it together because of all the talking.” Nick Hytner adds, “I think he’s also saying that people talk but often don’t really listen.” This links back to many previous discussions about how important “noting” is in this play.

When it’s clear that the scenes are understood by everyone, Nick taps his hands on his knees and announces “let’s get this on its feet!” The seats are pushed aside and the makeshift set is rotated 180 degrees on the drum revolve, immediately animating the rehearsal space with its movement and a steady rumble. Nick starts to make decisions about the blocking, about which parts of the stage might be used, and the placement of two chairs. It is suggested that the men enter from upstage, already in discussion and walking downstage along a space that is envisaged as a wide corridor towards Leonato’s room. As Dogberry and Verges speak to him, Leonato is hurriedly dressing in preparation for the wedding (mirroring Hero’s preparation in the previous scene). The way this scenario develops allows for comedic moments where Verges tries to keep up with the other two men, and then leans against one of the wooden columns, panting. Nick places one of the chairs tantalisingly close to Verges, and Trevor Peacock plays with how to show how desperately his character wants to sit down in it, only he daren’t in the presence of a man of Leonato’s status. Later, a small table with a bottle is added (to complement Leonato’s goodbye to them: “Drink some wine ere you go; fare you well”). Mark Addy (Dogberry) suggests that perhaps his character greedily take the glass from Verges (who is thirsty as well as exhausted) and sends him on the errand as he gulps the wine down. Everyone seems to be having a lot of fun with the seemingly infinite possibilities of the staging.

Discussion in rehearsal. Left to right: Nick Hytner, Zoë Wanamaker, Harriette Quarrie, Hannah Stokely, Maggie McCarthy. Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

Before rehearsing the first wedding scene (Act 5, scene 1) the company talk about what a “rollercoaster” of a scene it is. Andrew Woodall (Don John) comments, “it’s a scene that just keeps building through accusation, confusion and hot-headed responses”. Having been deceived by Borachio and Don John, Claudio accuses Hero of “knowing a luxurious bed”. Hero doesn’t understand what has happened, and is also condemned by her father. The Friar then contrives a plot to uncover the truth, and the scene concludes with Benedick and Beatrice privately confessing their love for one another, and Beatrice asking Benedick to “kill Claudio”. Even in the first day’s read-through this scene carried an almost exhausting force.

As they continue to explore the script, Nick questions how the audience might interpret the phrase “luxurious bed” (“could that just be heard as ‘expensive sheets’”?), but Julian Wadham (Don Pedro) firmly advocates this choice of words, saying that the intended meaning will carry. There are already some amendments to the text – Nick made some small cuts and suitable word substitutions prior to the beginning of rehearsals. There’s a long tradition of cutting and changing words within Shakespeare’s plays, although it is not drastic in this production. Some of the amendments are even changed back – after consulting other editions of the text, Don John’s declaration that Hero is a “common whore” is changed back to “common stale”. The word “stale” echoes around the room as people test it out for their own ears, and it’s agreed that whilst it’s obviously a less common insult today, it sounds far nastier.

There is discussion about how angry Claudio could be played. Simon Russell Beale observes, “Claudio’s language is quite different to everyone else’s here, it’s full of paradox and very twisted.” Might his speeches have been prepared earlier? Did Claudio sleep between seeing what he thought was an unfaithful Hero at her window late that night and the wedding the next morning, or was he awake the whole night waiting to publicly shame her? Daniel Hawksford (Claudio) agrees with the suggestion that “when you imagine having a go at someone who has wronged you, you imagine being incredibly articulate whilst they become a blithering apologetic mess”. Daniel notes how Claudio builds towards his “big reveal” with precise details of what he saw.

Though this production is “knowingly cavalier” about the historical accuracy of the setting presented in the play, some specific historical and cultural research is undertaken to deepen everyone’s understanding of the material. One afternoon is set aside for company members to present findings on the topic they volunteered to research.

Tristram Wymark (part of the Watch) presents his “film club” selection of films set in Sicily, featuring scenes from The Godfather II, Malènaand The Leopard. These films offer more than “visual inspiration”. For example, Nick comments on how The Godfather IIreminds him of the importance of Leonato’s role as the patriarch: “it’s not just Don Pedro that has high status”. Maggie McCarthy presents research on the role of women in this era, including the types of jobs they might have and how they could get them. This is useful in considering the Women of the House – in the invented back story for this production, it has been decided that Ursula was Hero’s wet nurse but was kept on by Leonato for house service, and Margaret is Ursula’s relative.

We also hear some Sicilian music, and about the history of invasions of that region. There are presentations detailing the conditions and structure of army life, and the traditions of masque balls. Of particular interest is the idea that only men wear masques and perform, and that the disguises allow for cross-gender and cross-class playfulness. It is suggested that for the party scene (Act 2, scene 1) the soldiers’ performance might be themed in their recent military victory and the conquest of women.

The information in these “homework presentations” continues to be referenced throughout the rest of the week. The “dodgy brass band of the town” seen in The Leopardis one of the inspirations for the musicians. The film’s portrayal of heat and dust from the countryside is noted. The tarantella (a traditional southern Italian dance) is a likely choice for the party. As these ideas are discussed, they are written down by the stage managers for the costume and props department. The images, trivia and points of reference from this research afternoon informs some of the staging choices and helps form a common ‘shorthand’ language amongst the company for the effect they’re trying to achieve together.

Research into Sicily helps to illuminate the relationships between characters: Zoë Wanamaker (Beatrice) and Oliver Ford Davies (Leonato). Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

Steady progress is being made in rehearsal as Much Ado About Nothingis approached scene-by-scene, line-by-line. The daily call sheets are (with a few exceptions) structured for rehearsal in the sequence of the play, so a sense of how the action unfolds is apparent. This week’s diary entry charts some of this precise, detailed work on individual scenes.

Act 2, scene 3

This scene is referred to as “Benedick’s gulling scene”, when Claudio, Don Pedro and Leonato make up the story of Beatrice’s affections, knowing that Benedick is eavesdropping. One of the first staging decisions is about which part of the house this is set in. There has already been discussion about Benedick falling into the small pool, so other details about the scene take root and grow from there. By examining the script and making some creative ‘educated guesses’, it is thought that Benedick is alone by the pool because he’s looking for peace and quiet in the morning after the big party (Act 2, scene 1). Benedick might be quite feeling a bit worse for wear after a lot of drinking the night before, and therefore his headache could be part of the reason he curses Balthasar’s singing.

The next question is “what else might a hung-over bloke have with him who just wants a place to himself to read?” Simon Russell Beale (playing Benedick) suggests he comes on with the coffee, and maybe biscotti for dunking. Many of the previous scenes have featured real, practical food, so this makes sense. Later, the other men will have a tray with coffee brought to them as well. Nick Hytner (director) sets up a small table and three chairs near the pool, and from here Benedick calls for ‘Meg’ (played by Jessica Gunning), a servant in the house, to get his book. Meg is adapted from the original script’s character of ‘Boy’, to help the production emphasise the household of women.

The stage is divided by some high, slatted walls, and this is where Benedick tries to conceal himself for most of this scene. Don Pedro and Claudio obviously really enjoy the teasing – it’s a fun game for them – and to show how casual they are it’s decided that they take off their boots as they sit on the side of the pool, dangling their feet into it. Meanwhile, Benedick is desperately trying to listen in, and it’s not until the men start to walk away that he sneaks out of his hiding place. This then becomes the logical moment for the “Benedick-falling-in-the-pool-gag”. At first it’s thought that he might fall in accidentally. Later, it’s decided that it might be funnier if Benedick makes a conscious decision to jump into the pool to avoid being seen. There’s talk of how this might be done safely, and there's a suggestion that the fight director may need to advise (the fight director is consulted for any activity in which the actors may be injured).

When Benedick climbs out of the pool, he is confronted with a stony-faced Beatrice (played by Zoë Wanamaker), who has been sent to call him in to dinner. Simon plays up all the clownish potential of this exchange: he stands in a puddle, now convinced of her love for him, wringing out his shirt and grinning like a fool, all the while thinking himself quite impressive to her. Simon jokes that his wet shirt creates his “Colin Firth / Mr. Darcy moment”!

This scene is “Beatrice’s gulling” – the same deception is being played by Ursula and Hero. Again, the tricksters know that their victim is listening in, and Beatrice has to conceal herself and believe that they don’t know she is there. It was originally thought that this might involve Beatrice crawling on the top of the pergola structure of the set, or perhaps have her high up on a ladder. Instead, something quite different is tried: this gulling scene is also set is set around the pool, with Meg cleaning the area with a mop and bucket after Benedick has splashed and dripped all over the place in the previous scene. Meg is wearing a large straw hat, which Beatrice grabs off her head and wears as a disguise as she eavesdrops. This seems to work quite well, and Zoë (Beatrice) improvises by squawking with disbelief and clattering a bucket, which the other women pretend not to hear as they carry on judging Beatrice’s character and ‘pity’ for Benedick’s desire for her.

As they work on the funny aspects of the scene, Zoë asks “how many gags can you do with a mop and bucket?” One of the options is for Beatrice to flick her mop and slosh Hero with water when she hears something she especially doesn’t like. After a couple of hours of rehearsal, Nick suggests not to worry about the gags – instead, to “go back to the scene itself” and concentrate on the intended meaning of the text. Susannah Fielding observes how her character, Hero, says some nasty things. Ursula and Hero are “really getting things off their chest”, something they wouldn’t normally do, and they’re having a lot of fun doing it. However, there are points in the scene where the comments turn quite dark and bitchy, though there is love behind them. Zoë notes that unlike Benedick’s grand declarations immediately after his gulling, there’s much more shock and hurt in Beatrice’s response: “the first thing I say is not 'I love him too', but that I can’t believe that they really think those things about me.” In a more light-spirited character observation, Nick suggests that Ursula’s repeated references to fishing could be because she does in fact enjoy angling. This brings a sense of reality to Ursula’s delight in her description of catching a fish. It’s this sort of fine attention to detail and back-stories that help to illuminate the text in rehearsal.

Zoë Wanamaker as Beatrice. Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

In the first part of this scene Claudio, Don Pedro and Leonato witness clues that suggest their plan to trick Benedick into loving Beatrice has worked – he’s spruced himself up, and his fellow soldiers cannot help but tease him about it. Simon suggests that at the beginning of the scene Don Pedro and Claudio catch Benedick admiring his own reflection, perhaps in a shiny silver platter off the kitchen table. Simon is also experimenting with a scarf he pulls across his face to initially hide that “the old ornament of his cheek hath already gone to stuff tennis balls” (his beard has been shaved off). This scene’s ‘reveal’ of his clean-shaven face creates a logistical staging problem as Simon couldn’t possibly shave off his beard every night (or twice a day if there’s a matinee!) In consultation with the Wigs department it’s thought that perhaps Simon could have a “stick on” goatee beard which would be removed between scenes – though if he’s jumping into the pool (and therefore getting wet) this could be tricky.

There’s discussion about how nasty the teasing from Don Pedro and Claudio might be. Is it like schoolboy bullying? Claudio grabs Benedick’s hat from the table (referred to in the line “He brushes his hat o’ mornings”, suggesting he has cleaned it in order to impress Beatrice) and passes it over Benedick to Don Pedro, as if Benedick is piggy in the middle. His attempt to get it back is only half-hearted because he was anticipating this ribbing. When Don Pedro and Claudio sit either side of Benedick to lean in and sniff his freshly-applied “civet” (perfume) in an exaggerated manner, it’s clear that they are really enjoying the joke at Benedick’s expense. The teasing seems appropriate behaviour in the masculine, matey world of the army, especially as Benedick has always been so vocal about the fact he is not keen on courtship.

The text is always the starting point for these rehearsal discussions. Lots of ideas bounce around the room as interpretations are offered, but the ones that stick very carefully observe the words on the page, and how the perceived intention of what is being said can best be shown. Outside of this rehearsal room other types of preparation are also being undertaken: there’s voice work, wig and costume fittings, props construction – and next week dance rehearsals begin. These pieces of the puzzle are starting to slot together to show an overall picture of what this production will look like onstage.

Having rehearsed the play all the way through in sequential order, we now go all the way back to Act 1, scene 1. The decision has been taken to set this scene around the household’s breakfast table, where most of the women are enjoying breakfast together with Leonato. The table is laden with a luscious selection of real fruit, coffee and bread and this pleasant scenario is presented in the “pre-show action” of the performance as the audience are being seated. It is interrupted by peals of the town bells, which build gradually from one bell to four bells ringing simultaneously. This marks the start of the play and heralds the Messenger. The company experiment with ways of responding to the bells and the news. They don’t know whether the outcome of the army’s conflict will be good or bad, so it's important to get the tension right.

Fortunately, it is good news, and the Women of the House are prompted into a flutter of preparation for the army’s arrival, tending to the Messenger by giving him a bowl to wash his face and a hospitable glass of grappa. There’s discussion about the Messenger’s response to Beatrice’s banter – it’s decided that he’s patient but gets fed up with her needling about Benedick, and his firm responses suggest that he thinks she should, as a woman, know her place. Then the army arrive, carrying flowers they’ve been tossed by villagers as they march through the town on their triumphant return (“a Sicilian equivalent of a ticker-tape parade”). Nick asks the cast to shout greetings and exclamations over the music of the brass band, and allocates names to all the soldiers so the women can greet them on familiar terms. They try this and it is “spot on” – an exuberant eruption of noise and movement, with whistling and kisses on both cheeks between the women and the soldiers. This is an exciting way to start the play, and establishes the dynamics of the household and the victorious army.

James Alper as the Messenger with Women of the House Katherine Burford. Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

As rehearsals continue in Rehearsal Room 2, Jeannette Nelson (who is responsible for the company’s voice work) leads a morning session on the Olivier stage. Nine actors in the company have never performed in this space before, and it is understandably daunting for them. The production is already sold out, and the actors know that for every performance they will need to communicate every single syllable and gesture clearly to 1,200 audience members in a very large theatre. As Jeannette says, it’s an epic theatre, designed in relation to Epidaurus. As an amphitheatre, working on the Olivier stage is a very different experience to acting on a proscenium arch stage: you can’t pretend the audience aren’t there when they surround you on three sides. Jeannette’s training and advice will help all the actors with the “particular way of playing” required here. She talks about how the materials the theatre is made from affects sound – the concrete, for example, tends to bounce it. This means that words need to be said extra clearly. There are also clever acoustic materials in the theatre to help with amplification.

First of all, Jeannette asks the nine actors to walk from upstage towards the downstage edge to familiarise themselves with the space. The actors do this slowly and silently, taking in all the details around them. They’re asked to think about their relationship to the audience in each place they walk through: which places make you feel the most powerful? What’s the experience of the sides like? What’s it like far downstage, where you can see and feel the audience on three sides?

Before testing their voices in the space, Jeannette leads a warm up. Warm-ups might look a bit silly to the observer, but they are essential to protect the actors’ voices. First, they stretch their arms, back, shoulders and neck, and then let out long hisses of “sss” followed by “zzz”. They count to twenty several times, yawn and hum. This is followed by “a bit of articulation” with sounds of “d”, “t” and a “rolling r”. The actors then divide into two groups – some sit in different positions in the stalls and circle, listening to the other group as they try out sections of their dialogue from areas of the stage. Understanding both speaking and listening in this space is essential, and they learn very quickly where some “hot spots” onstage are, and where they may need to work harder. Sometimes the text requires extra effort too: Hannah Stokely (understudying Beatrice and playing a Woman of the House) experiments with speaking as if she has a cold (Act 3, scene 4). Being “stuffed” naturally blurs some of the consonants, and Jeannette’s advice for this includes paying close attention to breathing to help with articulation.

The experience of the Olivier stage seems to present contradictions: it’s grand and overwhelming, but in some places it’s surprisingly intimate, and the shape “feels like it’s hugging you”. One of the actors comments that standing in the centre of this stage makes you feel like a giant, but when you sit far back you realise how small you can seem to the audience. Developing their knowledge of this playing space, and the techniques of stagecraft it requires, is crucial to the actor’s task in rehearsal. The more decisions that can be made in relation to this whilst in the rehearsal room will later reduce the adjustments needed in technical rehearsal.

That stage is still two weeks away, however, and there is much to be done in the meantime. Saturday rehearsals extend the working week, and while most of the actors are ‘off book’ (know their lines) many still sit to the sides of the rehearsal room, silently working over their script. The fight director will work with the actors on some difficult physical scenes, and the actors have time allocated to them for individual “costume chats” with the designer. All of these processes involve a complicated, intricate web of consultation and experimentation. By now the production has a distinct style, and choices are made that fit logically with this. What’s unknown is how this might change as rehearsals continue.

Now that the individual scenes have a strong shape it’s time to link them all together. Doing this gives the impression of how the action flows, and which scenes may need more attention. Specific rehearsals are also dedicated to the dance scenes, which are an important part of the story-telling in this play. To complement this, more music is introduced to the scenes, and the presentation of the music is carefully finessed. At the end of part one (before the interval), the Women of the House come to listen to Balthasar as he sings a romantic song from a window. The second half has a reprise of Balthasar’s ‘Sigh No More’ number set in the town square at night, with people milling around enjoying a drink and joining in the chorus. They are then rudely interrupted by Dogberry and Verges (Act 3, scene 3), who are not impressed to find people in the streets past the prescribed 9pm curfew, so they shoo off everyone but the Watch. This extra detail helps to create a vivid portrait of life in Messina.

Dance rehearsals are marvellous sweaty fun. There are three dances for the cast to learn: two for the party scene (Act 2, scene 1) and one for the final scene. As the play is set in Sicily, the dances are southern Italian in origin. They are based on the Tarantella, which is a jolly, partnered dance. The third dance is a Pizzica, a variation on the Tarantella. Shakespeare did not specify details of the dances in stage directions, but the script offers good clues as to what this party and the dances might be like. The snatches of dialogue between couples indicate women and men dancing together, and that the atmosphere is not so frenetic that there’s no chance to have a conversation.

The first dance starts with a performance of the triumphant army men in tableaux of their military victory. They carry a large flag with Aragon’s coat of arms (Don Pedro is the Prince of Aragon, Spain). In early rehearsals of this scene the men had added to their costumes with items from around the household draped over them, like sheets, curtains and tablecloths, as if they had just grabbed them for the impromptu performance. This costuming is later cut because it’s considered unnecessary and also said (bluntly) to “just look like men wearing tablecloths!”

As the men make their grand entrance, choreographer Struan Leslie encourages them to be bold and proud with the movements: “C’mon, you guys have just returned from the [military] campaign, you’re all pumped up on testosterone, so show off for the ladies!” They do indeed ‘strut their stuff’ with confident, seductive movements. The Women of the House have a lot of fun with their responses to the men’s invitations to dance, batting their eyelashes and teasing each other. The company are reminded by director Nick Hytner that the Catholic world in which the play is set is not one where men and women can usually behave so freely with one another, so this revelry is a rare and exciting opportunity. Being able to dance with members of the opposite sex with the men’s identities obscured by the masks adds to the sense of being allowed to really let loose.

The masks used in rehearsal are a mix of styles borrowed from the National Theatre’s costume stores: some are obviously Commedia characters, whereas others are from past productions of ancient Greek plays. (The masks in this production will be specially made and consistent in style, but in the meantime some actors find funny moments from the style of mask they’re rehearsing with – especially ones with very big noses). The men’s disguises help to create some of the mistaken identities and manipulations between the characters in this scene, and moments where characters take off or leave on their masks are carefully chosen. The women don’t wear masks, but try on long skirts for a sense of how their actual costumes might affect their movement. After several hours on their feet learning and practising the steps, some of the actors say they have sore calves and feet, and really hope that the shoes of their party costumes are comfy!

Struan has taught the company the movements literally step-by-step. He tells them that the mechanics of the dances are very particular, but are rooted in a sense of time and place: “the dances emphasise ‘up’ and ‘down’ at the same time. This is typical of southern Mediterranean and North African dances. The ‘down’, with the knees almost always bent, seems to be connected to the earth, the land – as are the people of Southern Italy and Sicily. It’s a very agricultural society. The arms are held wide and high, and the body does not bend sideways. The chest is lifted as if the sun is shining high above your head, and you want both your face and chest to get as much of it as you can. If you’re holding your partner’s hands then there is a feeling of stretching and pulling from the man and the woman. The slower dance is in three-quarter time, like a Waltz, but still earthed with flat feet and bent knees. The arms are more relaxed and fluid. Whilst the Waltz is a formal northern European dance, this is more casual and almost works in a ‘call and response’ way… you do a step and then I do it back.”

As the characters partner up in the first dance, little stories are made up about who fancies who, and who doesn’t fancy who. When a masked Benedick (Simon Russell Beale) first requests a dance with Beatrice (Zoë Wanamaker), there’s a real sense that she doesn’t want to dance with this disguised man at all, but once she has been pushed by the other women to do so, she actually quite enjoys it. The dance also has men cutting in on couples, or playing music. Like you might see at a ‘real’ party, some of the characters sit on the chairs to the side or in the kitchen as they enjoy time out for a chat, a little rest, another drink or a slice of pizza.

The dances are very flirtatious, and all the characters (except for miserable Don John) obviously enjoy themselves. The movements include light-footed skipping steps and joining hands with one other. They also make lots of happy whooping noises over the music. As dance rehearsal progresses for the party scene Nick says to the company that “part of the story we’re showing with the Tarantella is that everyone has had a tiny bit too much to drink, and therefore all kinds of things could happen.” It is decided that Beatrice and Benedick’s rants towards the end of the scene are related to this enthusiastic consumption of wine – their inhibitions have slid away and perhaps the party has by now passed the point where everyone should have gone to sleep.

The army seduce the women with their masked dance. Left to right: Simon Markey, Tristram Wymark, Gary Pillai, James Alper, Daniel Fearn, Daniel Hawksford, Simon Russell Beale, Julian Wadham. Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

If the lighter, happy dance scenes are fun to rehearse, it’s perhaps not surprising that the scenes related to Hero’s ‘death’ are a less joyous experience – although not without a sense of humour. In Act 4, scene 1, Hero (Susannah Fielding) enters the family chapel as an obviously a happy bride, even though we know she has experienced doubts about the wedding (when she is getting dressed in Act 3, scene 5 she says to Margaret “my heart is exceeding heavy”). The decision for Hero to be in high spirits for the first part of this scene is what Nick jokingly calls an “MGM telephone moment”. The story behind this is that apparently when the Hollywood movie studio MGM taught its starlets to act for the talkies they were to follow a ‘rule’ for creating dramatic tension: for answering the telephone to what turned out to be good news, they would first frown as they tentatively said “Hello?” When they heard good news their instruction was to contrast this with a big smile and to say “Oh!” If it was to be bad news, the rule worked in reverse: big smile for the greeting, immediately followed by a shocked response of “Oh…” It’s a funny way of thinking about how to make this element of the wedding scene work, but highlighting Hero’s obliviousness to the accusations she’s about to face in terms of this principle helps set up how surprising Claudio’s nasty behaviour is to her. If there’s any sense she could anticipate this ‘bad news’, the scene doesn’t work.

There’s discussion about Hero’s distress, and how awful it is in any situation to be dumped by someone that you fancy – let alone at the altar, where your sweetheart calls you nasty names and accuses you of having “vile encounters” with a “ruffian”. Hero’s helplessness in this situation is emphasised by the choice to have only one other woman with her in the chapel (Beatrice). The other Women of the House (particularly Ursula, who is thought to have once been Hero’s wet nurse) would have been a source of comfort to turn to. Instead, her circumstance is made worse by the presence of the army, who line the back wall of the space so when Claudio’s accusations start he uses these men as his audience, and they respond with ugly jeers and insults to Hero’s honour. Nick asks these actors to really play this up: their screams of “shame!” and “whore!” should “really turn the audience’s stomachs”. When her own father (Leonato, played by Oliver Ford Davies) shows that he believes the slander, Hero passes out and is taken for dead by the army as they depart.

Amidst all these accusations, the Friar (Gary Pillai) emerges as the only male character who “notes” her accurately, though Benedick has also figured out that the story doesn’t add up if Hero has had an affair “a thousand times in secret” if Beatrice has “twelvemonth been her bedfellow”. Whereas Claudio misreads Hero’s blushing as “guiltiness, not modesty”, the Friar can see that her response demonstrates she is innocent. The Friar is able to partially convince Leonato of Hero’s virtue, and determines the plan of faking Hero’s death to help uncover the truth. It is not a faultless plan: if it doesn’t work out then Hero will be hidden in a nunnery “out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries”. This is as much to say that she would not have any contact with her family and might as well be dead. The whole situation is devastating for the family. As the blocking is worked out for this scene, it becomes especially touching that Hero, Beatrice, Leonato and Antonio huddle together as a family group and let out a shared cry of grief at the suggestion that Hero might have to be sent away.

During this charged scene, Benedick keeps his distance at the back of the chapel, never coming too close to the family unit downstage – it’s as if they are all so fragile that it’s best to let them have space. From this position Benedick listens and watches carefully to what unfolds, and then pledges to help with the Friar’s plan. Simon speaks about what it means for Benedick to “now be aligned with the Leonato family rather than the Don Pedro family”. It’s a sudden switch, but it must show how strongly Benedick believes that Hero is innocent and that Don Pedro and Claudio must have been manipulated.

Rehearsing the second wedding scene. Left to right: Daniel Hawksford, John Burgess, Gary Pillai, Susannah Fielding (masked). Photo: Catherine Ashmore.

In Act 5, scene 1, an upset Antonio (John Burgess) challenges Claudio to a duel. This is already ridiculous before it’s physicalised in rehearsal: Claudio (Daniel Hawksford) has just returned as champion of the recent military coup, and Antonio is an old man with no chance of winning. However, he is extremely angry about the slurs against his niece, so he takes his own advice to “make those that do offend you suffer too”. It’s decided that Don Pedro and Claudio enter the scene briskly because they’re about to ‘do a runner’ from Messina after the upset of the wedding scene, and they’re really not interested in dealing with “two old men without teeth”. Convinced that he saw evidence of Hero’s infidelity, Claudio is cocky, laughing off any threat and sauntering over to the table to pour himself a drink – a big change from the respectful young man we first saw on the army’s return.

The first time the fight part of the scene is rehearsed it is thought that maybe the stage’s drum revolve could move to show Antonio chasing the younger men through the whole house. The slats of the walls could also be used to comic effect when Antonio’s sword is poked through them, narrowly missing Claudio and Don Pedro. The next time the scene is rehearsed there’s a change of heart, and it’s decided that the revolve won’t be used and that the scene should be less choreographed. This is often what rehearsal is about: trying ideas out, seeing if they work, and being willing to try something else if they don’t. In the revised version, Antonio fetches an enormous two-handed sword from offstage, as if he has gone to another room in the house and seized it from a wall where it has hung decoratively for many years. It’s very heavy and so ludicrously big that it’s immediately funny. He can barely lift it, through he does whack it against the floor and chases Don Pedro and Claudio across the room. This staging emphasises how they don’t take Antonio’s threat seriously, but doesn’t distract from the fast pace of the language in this scene. The size of the sword also shows how helpless Antonio is: even if he could injure them, he would not have mended Hero’s damaged reputation.

For Act 5, elements of the stage change to demonstrate a shift from wedding celebration to funereal mourning. The windows of the set will no longer be open and garlanded with flowers, but are now shut and draped with black crepe. This changes again by Friday of the sixth week to simply removing the wedding decorations and shutting the windows. Characters will also be in costumes that suggest mourning (probably in black). Nick suggests that Claudio’s mourning might involve sackcloth and ashes. Claudio is typically extreme and impulsive in his tendencies – when he falls in love, and when he thinks Don Pedro has wronged him and later that Hero was unfaithful. It makes sense that once he has learnt the truth of how he was hoodwinked his show of remorse for Hero would be also zealous.

When Claudio visits the monument of Leonato to pay his respects, Don Pedro, Balthasar and seven monks accompany him. Though it is not specified in the script, it has been decided for this production that the monks sing ‘Miserere’ (an a cappella religious choral work). The music rehearsals for this song start step-by-step: first the men learn the tune and the correct pronunciation of the Latin words, as well as what the words mean through the translation (it is taken from Psalm 50-51). It’s then developed more in rehearsal so that the crescendo of the music matches the emotional charge of the scene. Daniel pushes Claudio’s display of grief to excess: he throws himself down on the floor, prostrate in front of a portrait of Hero and sobs heavily. It’s thought that maybe Leonato and Hero could watch this secretly from one of the windows above so the audience will know they’re aware of the depth and sincerity of Claudio’s repentance.

TThere are now only a few days left in the rehearsal before technical rehearsal (the “tech”) begins in the Olivier theatre’s auditorium. Signs of stress become more visible because of racing against the clock each day – but never to a point of panic. Nick is very encouraging in the notes he scribbles down during each run and then relays to the actors and stage management team. There is positive feeling in the rehearsal room that next week’s run-throughs will show just how far the process has developed and exactly what else might be needed for the production to reach its potential.

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