[In the following review, Provenzano assesses a 1999 East Los Angeles Classic Theatre adaptation of the play Much Ado about Nothing by Tony Plana and Bert Rosario, describing the production as an excellent introduction to Shakespeare for young people.]

Truncated versions of Shakespeare's canon provide millions of school-age children their first experiences with classic theatre while fulfilling the artistic desires and commercial needs of youth theatre companies across the country. Few of these outings, however, create the rich cultural events that East Los Angeles Classic Theatre has been furnishing since 1995. Currently, the company's touring “mariachi-style” adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing is an exquisite young-people's introduction to the Bard—remarkably without condescension. While director Tony Plana and Bert Rosario have strategically cut the play to a blazing seventy minutes, it retains every important story point. Even the play's darker moments of sexual betrayal and death are not eradicated for adolescent audiences; rather, they are presented with simplicity and discernment, so parents can feel assured of the humanity behind the messages being delivered. The adaptation is essentially faithful to the integrity of Shakespeare's language, but often archaic phrases and rhetoric requiring annotation are sacrificed for clarity and accessibility.

This Much Ado transforms Italy into a nineteenth-century California fantasy in which Mexicans and Anglos live in peace and harmony. The Mexican wars and gold rush are over, and California has been admitted to the union, but rich, landed ranchero gentry like Leonato still control much of the land. In this world, the Mexicans represent the aristocracy while the Yankees are the lower, mercantile class moving in to take over the infrastructure of the state. When white soldiers Claudio and Benedick return triumphantly from battle, they are greeted jubilantly by Leonato, his daughter Hero, and niece Beatrice. Love and joy abound with masques and frivolity as the cultures blend happily. Unfortunately, a betrothal between the Mexican Hero and Anglo Claudio strikes a chord of racial hatred within the cruel Don John—designating a specific reason for his treachery that one rarely finds in the play. This turn of events highlights the play's clever twist of presenting Mexican cultural preeminence, which, in Don John's case, presents minority racism toward the increasingly dominant but cruder culture. In the midst of comedy, this racism turns to ugliness and tragedy as Don John manipulates his fellow soldiers, through gender chauvinism, to destroy the marriage plans and bring death and disaster to the once peaceful gathering.

Though darker themes of politics and sexuality remain intact, most of the production focuses on triumphant joys celebrated through opulent Mexican culture, specifically through the exciting music of Mariachi Del Sol. The mariachi component is not background; rather, it is the soul of this piece. Comic, tender, and even tragic portions of the play are turned over to classic mariachi themes that fit the context of the story. Mariachi's merging of Latino folk music and traditional European instrumentation works as a metaphor for the union of cultures represented in this adaptation. From a purely aesthetic point of view, the mariachi works beautifully, because it is such a pleasure to hear. The complex orchestrations and poetic lyrics, whether in bistros, show-stopping numbers, or moving ballads, utterly belie the common Anglo conception of mariachi as an inconsequential musical form.

Within the festive atmosphere of mariachi, the love story between Hero and Claudio thrives and the comic anti-love battle between Beatrice and Benedick takes root. This adaptation wisely focuses on the love story rather than the verbose war of the sexes, bringing an unusual equality between the two sets of lovers. Claudio and Benedick, as well as Mexican soldiers dressed in fine, traditional nineteenth-century uniforms, cut striking figures, looking like technicolor fantasies of The Cisco Kid or Zorro. This swashbuckling ideal is exemplified in flamboyant sword fights, both celebrating and lampooning macho posturing. Hero and Beatrice dress in extravagant and highly feminine period costumes, but both women are spirited matches for their comically virile mates. The fast-paced, nearly gymnastic staging splashes across a vast, multi-leveled set offering enormous variety of movement, which Plana uses to enthusiastic advantage.

Bowing to contemporary demands of youth theatre, Plana pulls in just a bit of audience participation, skillfully managed through some handclapping to music and group singing. The techniques are used most entertainingly during the extremely low-comic scenes with Dogberry, as prepubescent audience members are costumed as deputies and pushed adroitly through the play without stopping the action or lowering the overall level of performance. The acting and singing are uniformly expert and energetic in every role, and the mariachi musicians help keep the breakneck pacing alive. East Los Angeles Classic Theatre's extraordinary ability to effortlessly combine children's theatre techniques with traditional Mexican music and a difficult poetic text is a gift for Los Angeles families and youth who are served so well by the company, which is currently touring to more than sixty venues.