By Darby Turnbull
Twelfth Night or (What you will) is one of William Shakespeare’s mid-career comedies, post Comedy of Errors and As you Like it where he’s reached new heights in structural form; nimbly balancing balls to the wall farce and aching melancholy, and pre Measure for Measure and Winter’s Tale where the humour is more a rueful concession to the bleak absurdity of human frailty. In Twelfth Night he returns to two of his most successful narrative devices; separated twins (though only one set this time) and the comic and social possibilities of assuming the form of another gender.
As one of Naarm’s most reliable summer cultural highlights, Australian Shakespeare Company’s annual production in the Royal Botanic Gardens is in the position of having to play to a large audience in an outdoor setting whilst making the convoluted plot and language as accessible as possible. Under the experienced hand of Director Glenn Elston the comedy goes big and broad but essentially doesn’t sacrifice the essence of the characters.
Death, loneliness and emptiness permeate through the Illyria of Twelfth Night, romantic love or the pursuit of it, compensating for the losses and disaffections each of the characters harbour.
Viola and Sebastian, identical twins are caught in a shipwreck and each washed up on the shores of Illyria, each believing the other to be dead. In order to move freely through society Viola assumes the role of a young boy, Cesario and enters into the service of Count Orsino which leads to a daisy chain of unrequited passions. Ok, here we go.
Orsino loves Oliva, who has forsworn the company of men after the death of her father and brother, Viola loves Orsino in the guise of Cesario (Orsino is more than a little intrigued by that possibility) though is commissioned to woo Olivia in her master’s stead. Olivia falls for Cesario and eventually marries Sebastian thinking he’s Cesario, Sebastian is loved by the Sailor Antonio who has saved his life, so unrequited it’s ignored. In Olivia’s household- Maria, her maid loves Sir Toby Belch (whose one true love is booze) who is friendly with Sir Andrew Arguecheek who has designs on Olivia. Malvolio, Olivia’s self- important Steward also loves his mistress (at one point everyone falls in love with Olivia, as any sane person would) and Maria in order to win favour with Sir Toby gulls him into thinking he’s lived in return. In the midst of all this emotional carnage is Feste, the wise, maudlin Fool and Musician who’s quite possibly the sanest of them all.
Elston and his company display exceptional agility in combining multiple forms of comedy to ensure every member of the audience gets at least one genuine laugh; from the lowest of the low (piss in the mouth- recycled from Elston’s Macbeth) from the dry repartee of Olivia and Viola to some truly inspired Slapstick. Tony Rive as the foppish Sir Andrew is seemingly made of elastic. Jackson McGovern as the dipsomaniac Sir Toby works the crowd with increasingly perverse displays of inebriation with enough barbed edges that his sadism does wound. Maddie Somers’ Maria proves to be a secret weapon in how nimbly she uses physical comedy to keep their scenes together. Seemingly motivated by an insatiable physical appetite she throws herself into each narrative possibility with aplomb.
Alex Cooper’s Feste is an irresistibly charming Larrikan whether leading raucous sing a longs or mournful folk ballads he provides a soft level of introspection to the wandering musician.
Peter Houghton is a superb casting coup as the Puritanical Malvolio; possessing a pair of eyebrows that work like skilled contortion artists he makes for an immensely lovable prig. Though uptight and vain there’s something genuinely moving (and heart breaking) in his joy that he might be loved. Though the tone is kept relatively light, including the scene where Malvolio is tortured and gaslit into madness after humiliating himself in front of Oliva, Houghton is masterful in holding onto the pain of his debasement. I’d love to see him return to the role in a ‘darker’ production just to see how far he could take that strand.
Twelfth Night lends itself exceptionally well to an intentional exploration of the fluidity of gender and sexuality and this production treats those strands with the lightest of touches. The costumes allude to glam rock aesthetic, but the inherent queerness is minimal.
On the ‘straight’ side of the plot. Elizabeth Brennen is a Viola liberated by being Cesario and initially seems to find genuine pleasure in the notion that Olivia finds her attractive. Scott Middleton displays a sweet guilelessness as her twin Sebastian, a part that suffers from being underwritten. Both imbue their characters with a slight ‘gung-ho’ willingness to just go along with the action as it happens.
Hugh Sexton’s Orsino is a gruff sad sack whose love sickness seems to stem from a serotonin imbalance though has the undeniable sexiness of a slightly over the hill rocker.
Nicole Nabout is an essential grounding force as Olivia, taking her from grief-stricken rigidity to a giddy sensualist overcome by the erotic potential of the sensitive, loquacious boy who’s burst through her barriers. Nabout’s ecstatic ‘most wonderful’ when she learns there are TWO such ‘boys’ is a delight. Again, this is not one of those productions that allows the characters to stop and reflect on the emotional implications of their circumstances, but what makes it work is that comedy, as bold as it gets, mostly maintains the integrity of the characters.
Filled with songs, gags and a company of strong performers, Twelfth Night is a delightful twilight entertainment.
