"It's like a hen party, stag night, wedding and reception all rolled into one, and it's an absolute blast," says our reviewer.
As the third of Jamie Lloyd's three-in-a-row Shakespeare adaptations, Much Ado About Nothing is as bright and engaging as the other two were ill-judged and boring.
The radical revisionist's take on Romeo & Juliet brought in young audiences thanks to the casting of Spider-Man star Tom Holland. But it was devoid of scenery and passion, and in its stark black-and-whiteness with sudden splashes of blood red it was derivative of the director's stunning Sunset Boulevard minus that show's dramatic heft.
Then came The Tempest, which, some comic business aside, was even bleaker and more barren, and featured Sigourney Weaver as Prospero in a performance that felt phoned-in.
Like his other Shakespeares, Lloyd's version of Much Ado About Nothing doesn't have much in the way of scenery - just a table and chairs and a giant red heart, the walls and wings of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane's stage laid bare.
There are no costume changes either, unless you count Tom Hiddleston ripping open his shirt to reveal abs of steel.
What the director's third bash at The Bard does have is Hiddleston's magnificent flair for comic timing as Benedict, a solider back from battle, and Hayley Atwell's cleverly conflicted turn as Beatrice, who is engaged in her own war with Benedict.
In this gloriously giddy take, the alliterative pair are sparring partners who insist on bitching and bickering when it's clear they are made for each other.
Meanwhile, everyone around them is meddling in the forthcoming nuptials between lovesick Hero and her suitor Claudio, while bumbling constable Dogberry is nowhere to be seen; he's been completely cut in a streamlined two-hour show that only flags a little when things take a dark turn at the start of act two.
Dance classics from the 90s are pumped into the auditorium before it starts. Pink confetti is all over the stage and rains down from the rafters. Benedict and his bros come on to Fight For Your Right To Party in an hilarious bit of dad dancing.
There's a masked ball with giant animal heads that could have been borrowed from The Masked Singer's prop room. Mason Alexander Park's Margaret belts out a song or two.
It's like a hen party, stag night, wedding and reception all rolled into one, and it's an absolute blast. Everyone in the cast is having a ball, with Hiddleston and Atwell as energised leaders of the pack. He's a peacock milking the audience for applause as he spoofs his heartthrob image, she's a spitfire with a supreme skill at making Shakespeare's words sound thoroughly modern.
What emerges is an amusing musing on their reluctance to give in to love, in an absolutely fabulous night at the theatre where everyone is encouraged to get up and dance at the end. Purists will probably hate it, but I loved it.
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