The bitch of directing Shakespeare is the number of plates that must be kept spinning: a text packed with outdated language, a chorus of actors running on and off stage for dozens of scenes, and probably a concept Shakespeare never intended. If this daunting effort fails, the director gets most of the blame; we surely can't fault the author. If it works, each cast and crew member deserves credit. Material that seems as dense as theatrical calculus in Act I must feel breezy and offhand by Act V. And when the timeless magic of Shakespeare truly sings, we get the sense of all gears meshing in a glorious machine.

Much Ado About Nothing at Olympia Little Theatre is just such a production, and while its roster is impressively deep, it earns praise for its director, Terence Artz, most of all.

I admired Artz's Murder on the Nile, as did, one assumes, the OLT board. It must've been no small feat to convince said board that community theater actors (and retirement-age audience members) were up for the challenge of Shakespeare. Well, these actors must've been inspired by Artz's confidence, because they're shockingly good. I didn't get Brian Jansen's Benedick in his first few scenes; I found him silly and grating. But as the plot thickened, I watched Benedick grow up before my eyes, and I realized Jansen had given the character somewhere to go. It's an amazing character arc, with bonus points allotted for nailing an Act I monologue while laying out a hand of Klondike solitaire. Kathryn Philbrook, who resembles a young Minnie Driver in the garb of Rosie the Riveter, is brassy and sexy as Beatrice. Their Act IV, Scene 1 is outstanding, and it's aided by fine, subtle work from John Pratt as the Friar.

In Elizabethan times, Londoners viewed Italy as a steamy, Mediterranean fleshpot: "What happens in Messina stays in Messina." Artz transplants Much Ado to New Orleans in 1945, which allows Shakespeare's dons and counts to appear in Army uniforms. Meanwhile, hot jazz permeates the French Quarter. It's an inspired concept that reaps benefits throughout the show, including Matthew Moeller's beautifully ornate set, a variety of N'awlins drawls, Allison Gerst's handsome costume designs, and of course, a Dixieland score.

Another challenge facing directors of Shakespeare is gender imbalance. The Bard's casts are predominantly male, even in romantic comedies like this one, but most auditioners are female. Artz solves this problem smartly by casting young women in "breeches roles," as Messina's grandiloquent posse of constables. Alyssa McElfresh channels Jackie Gleason as the swaggering, malaprop Dogberry, riding in on one of this season's most delightful props. Maureen O'Neill's "Antonia" (formerly Antonio), earns chuckles by dressing down Claudio and Don Pedro.

Like its predecessor, Almost, Maine, this show is shamelessly romantic, and a perfect reminder of Mardi Gras. Ken Luce has grown by leaps and bounds in the last two years, and his shaming of Hero (Leah Sitzes) earns chills. Rick Pearlstein crushes the role of dastardly Borachio, and Jeff Hirschberg nearly erases the awful memory of Keanu Reeves' performance in Kenneth Branagh's otherwise terrific movie version. (Find it on Netflix - it's awesome.) I did hear a few memory glitches - and yes, Artz's blocking still favors the downstage wall - but thanks to what was clearly a labor of love from all parties, we're treated to a Much Ado About Nothing that is, frankly, too good for community theater. You've raised the bar, Artz & Company. Way to set the curve for all other OLT productions.

Much Ado About Nothing
Through Mar. 18, 7:55 p.m. Thurs. – Sat., 1:55 p.m. Sun., $10-$14, Olympia Little Theatre,1925 Miller Ave. NE, Olympia, 360.786.9484