Of all of Shakespeare’s comedies, Much Ado About Nothing is probably the one that has had the greatest influence on the modern rom-com. There’s no magical faerie intervention, no identical twins to set the misunderstandings in motion; just two households, both alike in indignity, getting into all sorts of capers to turn enemies to lovers. That’s in part why it’s my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies (aside from the fact that it’s, in my opinion, doubtless his funniest). It feels more mature and grounded than his other comedies’ more far-fetched contrivances, which means that in adaptation, you can take it in more versatile directions - the oppressively frilly, frothy sincerity of Kenneth Branagh’s hours long epic versus Joss Whedon essentially just filming his mates hanging out at his California pile is living proof. Oxford Theatre Guild’s outdoor production, shaded beneath the trees of Uni Parks, has erred on the side of goofy, a decision that largely pays off despite some mixed results.

For the uninitiated, Much Ado follows our two principal couples, moon-eyed paramours Claudio and Hero, and Beatrice and Benedick, who cannot stand one another (or so they insist). While Beatrice’s uncle Leonato (or here, Rachel Smith’s loving, if mercenary, Leonata) contrives with Prince of Aragon Don Pedro and Claudio to get B&B to hurry up and kiss already, a more sinister plan for young Hero is simmering in the mind of Claudio’s bastard brother Don John - to besmirch her good name and humiliate Claudio in the process.

Firstly, hats off to Edward Smith and Eleanor Schofield as Claudio and Hero for injecting a ton of personality into two characters that could so easily be absolute drips. Schofield’s Hero is cheeky, fun-loving and has a palpable bond with her cousin Beatrice, where Smith plays Claudio with a grounded dignity that make his professions of love for Hero feel like more than pretty words. It also takes a lot of talent to wring any pathos out of essentially slut-shaming your bride-to-be in the town square, and he pulls it off with aplomb, as though the words are poison in his mouth. Vaughan Pierce plays Don Pedro with a Col. Melchettian blustery bravado (though occasionally that bluster did seem to provide cover for remembering his next line), while Helen Dallas’ Don John is suitably slimy, though less criminal mastermind and more weaselly little brother about to rat you out to Mum.

But Much Ado really lives and dies by its Beatrice and Benedick, and Roisin Richardson and Marcus Davis-Orrom take their quarrelling lovers in a very fun direction. Richardson’s Beatrice is played a bit less mature than other takes I’ve seen, more obstinate and petulant than self-assured and headstrong, but that’s not necessarily a complaint - in fact, it makes the moments when her pride is cut down a peg that much more satisfying. Her delivery put me in mind of Lucy Punch’s Esme Squalor - we’re leaning into the laughs, and that’s no bad thing. So too with Davis-Orrom, who’s loveable himbo vision of Benedick deservedly earns some of the night’s biggest laughs. Davis-Orrom clearly has a gift for physical comedy that he’s using to his full advantage, his faux-macho posturing and silly asides making it clear from the get-go that this is a Benedick who doth protest too much. If I have one note, it would be to vary his volume a bit more, if only to give the play’s more serious beats some contrast.

As I hope I’ve made clear, I’m not against playing up Much Ado’s more goofy side. But physical comedy is a tricky beast to wrangle, and the production doesn’t always pin it down. The farcical set-pieces in which our conspirators plant secondhand confessions of love for a ‘hidden’ Beatrice and Benedick to overhear work because we know the plotters know they’re there - the lack of slickness is part of the joke (I especially loved the masterstroke of Hero’s maid’s hopelessly unconvincing delivery).

But the sequences where it’s supposed to be slick are where the seams start to show. The masquerade ball (bafflingly set, as is the entire soundtrack, to a Taylor Swift instrumental), is clearly meant to be a well-oiled machine of visual gag after visual gag, but the choreography is simply too muddy, the rhythm too sluggish and the length too unwieldy to leave an impact. Similarly when night watchman Dogberry and his men arrive on the scene to apprehend Don John’s rogues, the Three Stooges-style slapstick they add isn’t given enough commitment to hit the mark. Dogberry’s men may be hapless, but slapstick itself has to be pinpoint precise, and as it stands, it’s a touch too slow and too mannered to feel spontaneous.

This isn’t helped by the fact that the comedy is spread out between Dogberry and henchman Borachio, played here by Erin Keenan in costuming that looks like Riff-Raff by way of Guy Fieri. Call me a killjoy, but I tired of the Borachio mugging pretty quick. The crotch grabbing, the random high notes, the drunken staggering that magically disappears as soon as they start hatching their scheme - Keenan commits, to be sure, but it feels like pantomime in a cast where the performances overall remain pretty grounded. And set against a more muted Dogberry (played by Gary Bloom with a somewhat distracting accent), it neuters one of Shakespeare’s greatest comic creations. So much of what makes Dogberry funny is centred on his speech, his redundancies, his malapropisms, much of which get lost in the mugging.

All in all though, carried by the strengths of our lead couples and a real sense of camaraderie among the cast, OTG’s Much Ado is a merry dance, even if toes occasionally get trodden on. Catch it in the blazing sunlight of Uni Parks throughout this week - and if you’re anything like Messina’s young lovers, do it with a tipple in hand.