Review: For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing delivers its lines half-cut, swirling the last mouthfuls of wine around in its glass, at a party. Everything is loose. Which is fair: much of the action is a party, half-cut, but there are always more mouthfuls to be found. Or bottles, anyway, half-killed. They fill every surface in the… Read More