Twelfth Night

For our archive, we have filed our reviews of several productions of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night on one page. Scroll down for the one you want.

Barbican Theatre, Winter 2001-2

Twelfth Night is not a particularly difficult play, and yet over the years the Royal Shakespeare Company have been defeated by it at least as often as they have succeeded. Something in this light comedy brings out the RSC's ever-threatening propensity for ponderousness, and I fear that Lindsay Posner's current production has fallen victim to the curse.

This is the one about the girl disguised as a boy, who falls in love with her boss, who sends her with love notes to his lady, who falls for the messenger, while in a subplot the prudish Malvolio is victim of a cruel practical joke. Typical Shakespearean light stuff, which I have seen modest fringe companies carry off delightfully, and I should stress that the play is so strong that even an unsuccessful production can't be a total flop. But less-than-good-enough isn't good enough.

A key failing of this version is that no two characters seem to be inhabiting the same play, with every actor employing a different style or imagining himself in a different production. Zoe Waites's Viola (the transvestite role) is in a broadly declamatory Victorian-style production, for example, while Matilda Ziegler's Olivia is underplayed and contemporary (and one unfortunate byproduct is that Olivia becomes the much more sympathetic heroine rather than a comic foil). Jo Stone-Fewings plays Orsino as so wrapped up in his romantic posing that he hardly notices anyone else onstage, which means that his key scenes with Viola, when they discuss love and prepare us for their ultimate pairing-off, have no reality or resonance.

Stork-like Guy Henry was born to play Malvolio, and he does make him a comic collection of tics and twitches, but he holds back, seemingly out of a misplaced fear of going over the top, when Malvolio is a role that absolutely demands overplaying, so his two big scenes (finding a love letter he thinks is for him, and then acting on it) never quite catch fire.

Continuing the pattern of actors appearing in different plays, Barry Stanton plays Sir Toby as barely one step above a street tramp, while Christopher Good makes Sir Andrew less a fool than a rather sweet innocent, a county schoolteacher perhaps, totally out of his element. Mark Hadfield has clearly modelled his jester on Max Wall, down to the flat hat and long shoes, with the lugubrious music hall clown's glumness and almost resentful throw-away wit. It's an interesting idea, but it doesn't work, especially since a clear compulsion not to give familiar line readings twists him into phrasing and singing (music by Gary Yershon) so bizarre that he might have learned the speeches phonetically.

All these are director's failures, as are some of the odd loose ends, like dressing the play in the Edwardian period for no clear reason, or making explicit the homosexual subtext between two secondary characters or the lesbian implications of Olivia's attraction to Viola but then doing nothing with them.

I repeat that Twelfth Night, like most of Shakespeare's comedies, is indestructible, and someone coming to this version for the first time will probably have a mildly pleasant experience, little knowing how very much funnier, how very much more romantic, how very much more of a piece it might have been.

Geald Berkowitz

Albery Theatre, Summer-Autumn 2004

For me, the enduring attraction of Shakespeare's legacy isn't the weighty rhetoric of the tragedies or histories but the deceptive simplicity of his comedies, something wonderfully captured in this transfer to India of this later work.

Set in a shambling quarter of a port on the northern reaches of the Sub-Continent, though the time is now, the life depicted has more in common with Shakespeare's England since Indian society has preserved so much of the class, religious and gender distinctions that have been mostly erased from the homogenised Britain of today.

The older English in which Shakespeare originally wrote has more connection too, in terms of vowels, weight and stress, to contemporary north Indian languages such as Hindi, a distant relation linguistically. Indian English, a dialect in itself, preserves all this richness and the pentameters roll off the actors' tongues like honey. This production, therefore, fits the story like a glove. In such a setting, the shipwrecked Viola (Shereen Martineau) disguising herself as Duke Orsino's pageboy Cesario needs no theatrical sleight of hand to convince, nor does the object of Orsino's love, Olivia (Neha Dubey), when she confuses Cesario/Viola with her longlost brother Sebastian (Raaghav Chanana).

But be warned. The first half is dire, if truth be told. It is part two where everything falls into place to make this such a memorable production. In fact Viola/Cesario and Olivia are shrill and wooden throughout, while the male leads Sebastian and Duke Orsino have all the impact of (admittedly quality) wallpaper. The fault here lies fairly and squarely with director Stephen Beresford, which is a baffling omission on his part since he guides the rest of the cast to such a successful conclusion by curtain fall.

So ignore the lead players and sit back to relish these supporting roles to die for. Even the bit parts exude satirical precision - the scornful looks from Olivia's servant (Joanna Burnett), the bemused officialdom of the First Officer (Amit Shah), the doddery confidence of the Brahmin priest (Kish Sharma) - while the mere walk-ons backstage, such as a man on a bicycle riding by on cue in the distance, add comic if fleeting sparkle.

Kulvinder Ghir re-creates Feste as a Bengali "baul" minstrel, his songs mini setpieces in what is a majestically manic performance as he veers from Fool to Machiavelli and back as circumstances dictate. Paul Bhattacharjee's Malvolio is a major domo so steeped in the days of the Raj that his every word or move invites a comeback that could come equally from P. G. Wodehouse's comic novels as tragic epic The Jewel In The Crown. Shiv Grewal completes the farcical triumvirate as a mind-bogglingly louche Sir Toby Belch, complete with sharp suit, sideburns and an innate ability to imbibe copious quantities of Cobra lager.

Put such wonderful comic creations and their cronies together, and any shortcomings elsewhere instantly vanish.

Nick Awde

Open Air Theatre Summer 2005

Girl dresses as boy, works for man who sends her with love letters to the lady next door, who falls in love with the messenger - that one. Toby Belch and Malvolio - that one.

Shakespeare's romantic comedy should be as foolproof as A Midsummer Night's Dream and As You Like It, but it's deceptive. There is something about it - I'm really not sure what - that makes it a real challenge to actors and directors (The RSC always bollixes it up).

So it is no condemnation to say that this production at the lovely Regents Park outdoor theatre is somewhat less than perfect. Enough of the play's charm and humour come through to make for an enjoyable evening, especially in the magical park setting.

Director Timothy Sheader is very good at moving people around the stage and getting from scene to scene smoothly, and he has a flair for visual comedy. The letter scene, in which the stuffy Malvolio is victim of a practical joke while others watch, is as funny as you could hope for, as is the later cowards' duel, and the string of doubletakes at the end, when the heroine turns out to have a twin brother, is delightful.

Where Sheader falls down is in guiding his actors to attractive characterisations or, in some cases, to any characterisations at all. Orsino, the lovesick boss, is a somewhat underwritten and thankless role, but by playing him as a thug Daniel Flynn actually makes him unpleasant to be around; and Desmond Barrit's Toby Belch is too much of a nasty drunk and too little of a jolly one.

In the imposed Carribean setting (which is not particularly exploited in any other way), the jester Feste has become a voodoo priest, but Simon Day looks very uncomfortable under all that odd makeup and unsure from minute to minute whether he's supposed to be friendly or sinister.

As the heroine, Mariah Gale plays the boy with unrealistic swagger and presumptuousness, but gives us no sense of the lost and lovesick girl beneath the mask. (Put another way, she shows us an unattractive Cesario and nothing at all of Viola.)

Somewhat more successful are Sirine Saba as Olivia, finding all the jokes in her romantic predicament - her reaction when it briefly looks like she has two husbands gets the biggest laugh of the evening - and Martin Jarvis, who pulls off the very difficult accomplishment of making Malvolio both comic and sympathetic.

Any review of Shakespeare must consider two audiences, Shakespeare buffs and first-timers. The latter group will find a lot about this production to enjoy, while those who know the play may find, as I did, too many little disappointments to let it be wholly successful.

Gerald Berkowitz

Novello Theatre December 2005

This is the best Twelfth Night I can remember seeing from the Royal Shakespeare Company.

To some that may seem faint praise, since the RSC has always had bad luck with this romantic comedy, which somehow brings out its occasional tendency toward ponderousness. But Michael Boyd's production is, by any standard, as light, humourous and romantic as anyone has a right to wish.

(Quick reminder: girl dresses as boy, works for guy who sends her to woo his lady, who falls in love with the messenger. Twin brother, Sir Toby Belch, Malvolio, trick letter - that one.)

For one thing, this is one of the rare productions in which modern (well, vaguely 1970s) dress actually adds to the fun. For example, the lovesick Orsino is a rich idler who keeps a jazz band on 24-hour alert in case he's in the mood for music, and the players quietly communicate a mix of annoyance and at-least-it's-a-steady-gig whenever called.

The clown Feste is a cocktail pianist with an unrequited love for the maid Maria (a nice touch, which I've seen once or twice before - it adds an unobtrusive minor key to the action and also explains his disappearance for a couple of acts in the centre of the play, as he goes off to console his breaking heart.)

Boyd and designer Tom Piper also openly exploit the theatrical nature of the play, with props (including the piano) hanging visibly above the stage to descend when needed, and the cast encouraged to play interchanges that sound like conscious joking as music hall turns to an imagined audience.

The whole thing flows smoothly and engagingly and, even though - like most RSC productions - it runs over three hours, unlike most it feels very much shorter.

Sally Tatum is an attractive Viola, though she never looks or acts like anything but an obvious girl, even when dressed as an early-70s dandy. Aislin McGuckin plays Olivia straight throughout, perhaps losing an occasional laugh in the process, but also anchoring her part of the play in real emotion. Clive Wood makes Sir Toby a real bloke's bloke, though he might have been just as effective if a little less falling-down drunk. and John Mackay is a strong physical clown as Sir Andrew.

It is nice for a change to have Malvolio played by an able character actor rather than a slumming guest star, and Richard Cordery finds all the laughs and touches of pathos without warping the play, while Forbes Masson similarly mines the sad and comic sides of Feste to full effect.

Like all the other RSC Stratford transfers in this Winter London season, Twelfth Night is only on for about three weeks. It is well worth rushing to.

Gerald Berkowitz

Old VicTheatre Winter 2007

Director Edward Hall brings his all-male Propeller Theatre Company to the Old Vic for a season of two Shakespeare comedies of gender, Twelfth Night playing in repertory with The Taming of the Shrew. The results are, inevitably, mixed.

Twelfth Night (the one about the girl disguised as a boy, sent by her boss with love messages to his lady, who falls for the messenger) is a deceptively difficult play - it always defeats the RSC.

The sweetness of Viola's predicament (She's in love with her boss) clashes with the farce of Olivia's infatuation with her, while the subplot of the humiliation of the pompous Malvolio turns unredeemably sour by the end.

Whatever tone a director chooses - farcical, elegiac, romantic - is hard to sustain throughout. And, as it turns out, de-genderising the play with an all-male cast doesn't help, at least not in this case.

(It might have - one of the greatest Shakespeare productions I've ever seen was the National Theatre's all-male As You Like It nearly 40 years ago, which liberated all that play's romance and comedy.)

The failure is directorial, with Edward Hall evidently unable to decide whether to play the female characters as women, men or neither, and settling for Panto Dame drag performances, which prove totally wrong.

Dugald Bruce-Lockhart's Olivia is a fluttering drag queen and Chris Myles' Maria her butch bartender, and aside from being wrong characterisations, they're too one-note, with no colours or room for development beyond the caricatures.

That same one-note quality runs through some of the male characters as well. Jason Baughan's Sir Toby is a vulgar falling-down drunk and nothing more, Jack Tarlton's Orsino almost invisible, Tony Bell's Feste a morose stand-up comic who seems to begrudge the need to get laughs from others on stage or from us.

Only Tam Williams as Viola captures something beyond caricature with an androgyny that walks the delicate line between effeminate maleness and the essence of femininity, thus paradoxically creating almost the only real-feeling human character onstage and providing the only justification for the casting experiment.

Williams captures Viola's lostness, her sense of being trapped in an identity that leaves her no way to connect with others, better and more touchingly than most actresses could.

Bob Barrett is an adequate, if not show-stealing Malvolio, getting most of the laughs and some of the pathos, and Joe Flynn does more than most with the relatively simple role of Viola's twin brother.

Gerald Berkowitz

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