Theatre
Theatre review: Twelfth Night
The Young Vic's production of Twelfth Night is short and sweet
October 11, 2018 16:04
The Young Vic's production of Twelfth Night is short and sweet
October 11, 2018 16:04If you were to choose a Shakespeare play to cut drastically I can think of better candidates than Twelfth Night. Unlike say, the often long-winded Julius Caesar, which was recently cropped to an uninterrupted two and a quarter hours by Nicholas Hytner — to thrilling effect — Twelfth Night is not one of those that often feels overlong.
Yet for his inaugural production as this crucial theatre’s new artistic director, Kwame Kwei-Armah has not only cut Shakespeare’s popular comedy to a whirlwind 90 minutes; with the help of composer Shaina Taub he has turned it into a crowd-pleasing musical.
Kwei-Armah has a hard act to follow. At the Young Vic he takes over from David Lan who over nearly two decades forged the theatre into one of the country’s most inclusive and innovative production houses. Yet there is no doubting the invention of this musicalised Shakespeare.
First seen in New York in 2016, Kwei-Armah and Oskar Eustis’s production sets the action in modern-day Notting Hill. With Rupert Young’s somewhat Hugh Grant-like Duke Orsino, this is probably what Shakespeare’s play would have looked like if it were written by Richard Curtis.
The Victorian townhouse opposite the Duke’s, with its pleasing pastel colours, is occupied by Natalie Dew’s Countess Olivia, and all the action takes place on the very attractive street that divides the two. So after disguising herself as a young man, Gabrielle Brooks’s Viola only has to cross the road to deliver her boss Orsino’s doomed pleas of love. It’s barely a skip from one posh pile to the other.
Yet in spirit at least, this show has more in common with the Notting Hill that existed before Hugh Grant and his ilk moved in. With an exuberant and diverse chorus of 30 non-professionals, cast from the Young Vic’s local community, in essence this show is a great gesture towards inclusivity.
Occasionally the transitions feel rough where the chorus moves the plot with great dollops of exposition. But for the most part this show’s momentum is supplied by Taub’s pretty and witty score, the best of which is terrifically sung by Melissa Allen as the fool, Feste, and Brooks’s Viola.
The infectious generosity of spirit here, should be enough to allay the reservations of most Shakespeare traditionalist. The relationship between Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, for instance, is much diminished. Yet they may find the final flourish of Gerard Carey’s otherwise excellent Malvolio harder to forgive.
Carey’s performance superbly captures the pomposity of Olivia’s butler, and also his vanity. It’s one of the funniest Malvolios I have seen. Yet his comeuppance, locked in a van instead of a dungeon, is nowhere near cruel enough to evoke the sense of shame that those who have enjoyed his humiliation — including us — should feel.
And you don’t have to be a traditionalist to miss that.