IT’S Christmas in Illyria and the fun is flowing. Pranks are played and mismatches threaten to scupper the meetings under the mistletoe.
Admittedly, the plot of what must rank as one of the Bard’s most popular comedies is well known. The misunderstandings, ruses, twists and resolution come as very familiar ground.
With such familiarity comes the challenge to any new production of how to polish it up afresh and, better than that, find something new within the comedy to send the audience home happy.
There is, of course, an alternative. Bolting on great chunks of extraneous comedy to pad out Shakespeare’s generous but sometimes slightly faded wordplay.
And that’s the route taken here. The play is, to some extent, left to its own devices, while all manner of contemporary outbursts, slapstick and sight gags are sprinkled over the mix.
Songs abseiled in, fart in a bag gags, slightly forced audience participation and the most wonderful wtf reaction to Malvolio’s fashion error – we’re allowing ourselves to stray a long way from the script.
In many ways it works. Audience involvement is high, particularly in the hands of Michael Grady-Hall’s Feste taking a robustly physical approach to the wordplay. Somewhere between Chaplin and Marty Feldman this is a performance which ticks the funny box and will get better with wear.
There’s a distinct over-measured feel to most of the first half. Scenes pass by slowly with a noticeable stress on explanation over pace. The eye is drawn instead to James Cotterill’s fabulous church organ set which provides not only a stunning backdrop but, in the hands of Matt Maltese’s fine soundtrack, a running commentary on the action.
The memorable moments of Prasanna Puwanarajah’s production come in the second half. Samuel West’s prissy but vulnerable Malvolio spares little in the search for comedy. The humiliating yellow-stockings appearance is as spectacular as it is daft.
The darker side of such vindictive pranks as are played is not overlooked. There is a markedly cruel tinge to the otherwise affable Toby Belch (Joplin Sibtain).
Strong support comes from the female side. The scenes between the lovelorn Viola (Gwyneth Keyworth) and proud but frisky Olivia (Freema Agyeman) speed things along nicely. In a fine ensemble piece there are no weak links but a general upping of the tempo wouldn’t go amiss.
This is a festive gift from the RSC which seems to want to be less about the package’s contents and more a celebration of the wrapping and ribbons it has been smothered in.
Twelfth Night runs until January 18. Visit rsc.org.uk for tickets and further details.
