Much ado about Shakespeare

I remember eighth grade fondly. “The O.C.” was still on television and I still thought it was cool to wear Hollister. Oh, those were the days. Unfortunately, it was also the year I was forced to read what I consider to be the most ridiculous and idiotic story ever told. I’m, of course, talking about those stupid and star-crossed imbeciles, Romeo and Juliet.

I’m not really a romantic. I have my moments, but overall I’m pretty pessimistic when it comes to good old L-O-V-E. But “Romeo & Juliet” takes it to new levels of idiocy. Two teenagers meet at a party, make goo-goo eyes at one another, get hitched, have one passionate night, then end up in a murder/suicide tangle that would make anyone’s head spin. I’m sorry, but don’t people get thrown into mental hospitals for lesser impulses?

I was again was forced into reading “Romeo & Juliet” last year for a theatre class and I found it just as insufferable. All it does is make me ask is why, hundreds of years later, do we celebrate William Shakespeare like the seconding coming of Jesus?

Yes, he can turn a phrase. I suppose I would have fallen for Romeo too had he spoken such sweet nothings at my window balcony. And yes, Shakespeare’s contributed more to the genre of playwriting than any other person in history. His variation of genre and wit is astounding, to be sure. But is he really all he’s cracked up to be?

I found myself asking this question as I sat through director Joss Whedon’s adaptation of “Much Ado About Nothing,” a brilliant, black and white gem I have to believe the old Bard himself would have appreciated. It was whimsical, it was serious and I was perfectly sold into the whole cutesy production.

This is why we celebrate Shakespeare. His work is so free of time constraints, free of parameters. Artists can take his words and collaborate on any sort of production theme or idea that strikes their fancy. Whedon took “Much Ado About Nothing” and placed the whole story into his luxurious California home and cast his trusty troupe of Whedon-approved actors to flesh out the old roles.

I may loathe “Romeo & Juliet,” but “Much Ado About Nothing” suits me just fine. And this is the joy of Shakespeare. There truly is something for everyone in his collected works. It isn’t like today when there are those who can’t sit through a Tarantino flick and others who won’t touch a film unless it has Woody Allen’s name on it. Shakespeare shaped modern storytelling conventions by ignoring them himself, refusing to stick himself permanently in any one theme or genre.

He might be dead by a few hundred centuries, but you stick around long enough and you’re sure to find something that strikes your fancy.