Bell Shakespeare’s production of Twelfth Night mines the play’s dark comic intent with profitable exigency, while the various gender frissons that Shakespeare embeds in his work are empanelled with gilded extravagance - for our freshly minted judgement.
In this telling, the cross gartered major domo is one Malvolia - a starkly present servant in the household of the Countess Olivia (she who is in mourning for her dead brother). The dry pomposity of Malvolia is beautifully delivered by Jane Montgomery Griffiths, but more importantly she plumbs the depths of the character’s abasement and betrayal: the canker of anguish and despair that dominates the trajectory of a wicked jape. We see how the threat of madness can so easily be released and how the imbalance of the world may lead to stupefaction and betrayal. Here, Malvolia is deeply degraded, trussed in imagined darkness. She has listened to falsehood and dared to believe in the chances of power and love. Her slow, aching withdrawal from the dungeon of the upright piano – the musical darkness so to speak – was both a highlight of stage craft and a salutary impost on our too humorous observance. The outrageous costuming - yellowed and cross gartered - and the unending grin of manufactured happiness were deeply amusing, but in this performance the downfall of this unlikeable character also leads us towards pity and a warning on how the trenches of revenge are dug deep.
In this production, the shipwrecked twins swap gender in the swirling mists – so Viola is first spotted as a young woman (Isabel Burton) who disguises herself as a young servant boy whose role is henceforth assumed by Alfie Gledhill, as a boy playing a girl, who is pretending to be a servant boy (Cesario) – much as it would have been enacted in Shakespeare’s day. This casting lends a particular frisson to Cesario’s interaction with the love-struck Duke Orsini, who extravagantly woos the Countess Olivia but increasingly finds himself attracted to the boy servant (the boy/girl). This was deliciously handled by Orsini (Garth Holcombe) and Cesario (Alfie Gledhill), with many piquant evasions and double takes. Burton’s assumption of the twin brother, Sebastian, was both deft and robust – drawing a boyish strength to the fight with Sir Andrew.
The Countess’ household hosts the comic trio of the all-knowing and hardened Maria, the Falstaffian Sir Toby Belch and the jackanape Sir Andrew Augucheek. These roles were well cast with Mike Howlett embedding supreme physical comedy in his assumption of Sir Andrew. His prattling daftness and silly walk stiffness created grand comic business. His moments of clarity, when he is aware that Sir Toby is playing him for a mug and the next belch of ale and cakes, were like little acid drops cast over his general imbecility. His extravagant costuming – particularly his slim line garishly striped suit - were triumphs of miss-taste. His pursuit of the Countess is slapdash and soon ameliorated by wine and laughter. His flirtation with Maria is believable – her knowing evasions were prettily witty. He also shades his tomfoolery with a touch of melancholy: “I was adored once”.
Keith Agius delivered Sir Toby as a bearded and kilted rogue – a drunkard, back slapping and curdled - but dripping with street smarts. He knows how to milk the cash cow - and works in tandem with Maria (Amy Hack) to progress his deeply selfish agenda. They are both rogues. Sir Toby’s self-aggrandisement has some base charm and Maria, indeed, may be that “true beagle” who adores him. She helps to ensure that Sir Andrew’s purse continues to flow into his belly in his daft pursuit of the Countess in marriage. It is Sir Toby who lets Maria have her own way in the nasty overthrow of Malvolia. The nastiness underpinning their jibing was nicely balanced with our desire to see the pompous deflated. Maria truly meant it when called after Malvolia: “Go shake your ears”. Her servant eye calls out the vice of self-love. In the letter scene, the “some have greatness thrust upon them” interplay was deliciously enacted by all players.
Feste - who flits between the household of the Countess and the Duke, flits as easily between genders. He is a slim and elegantly erotic clown with gorgeous long legs, shafted by red high heeled boots, angular as a model in his body-hugging vest (Tomas Kantor). This treacherous soul vamps amongst the players and flirts across the sexes bringing a hard edge to Shakespeare captivating imp. The clown sings both falsetto and baritone – and brings a moaning energy centre stage. “Youth’s a stuff will not endure” and “come away, come away death” he craftily intones. His vocal tessituras were truly reflected in “O Mistress mine”: “that can sing both high and low”. His cruelty was savagely real in “like a made lad/pare they nails, dad” as he taunted the wretched Malvolia, underpinned by some private aggrievement. We might well believe part of Malvolia’s assessment that Feste is “a barren rascal”.
The transformation of the Countess from groaning bereavement to moaning love is not an easy transition. Like the Duke she has fallen for the cross gartered gender of the girl playing a boy. Ursula Mills managed this transition, but her vocal resources were limited with regards the forceful text and is comic possibilities. She was unable to inhabit the gravitas of the haughty aristocrat, whose independence and power is a magnet for her suitors. “I see what you are, you are too proud” intones Cesario, but we did not see and feel it.
The stout-hearted Antonio was nicely essayed by Chrissy Mae. The sense of outrage at the misshapen Sebastian’s betrayal was hectoringly believable.
The staging was spare but effective. The wooden branches that weave their way around Malvolia and the treachery of her three interlocuters – Maria, Toby, and Andrew - was deftly done. The costuming was vivid – from Olivia’s deep lacy mourning to Feste’s elegant drag (set and costumes by Charles Davis).
The original music (songs) and soundscapes (Sarah Blasko and David Bergman) were finely tuned to the dramatic intent – and added a haunting layer to the drama. The lighting (Verity Hampson) instantiated storm and nightscape and lover’s final benediction.
The overall direction by Heather Fairbairn gave us a coherent framework to receive the earthy humour and dark deceit that underpins the work – all with a robust clarity and gentle teasing. Bell Shakespeare sometimes gets things distinctly right, even when certain actors cannot achieve consistently good diction. “If music be the food of love, play on”. This was highly enjoyable play.
Bell Shakespeare Company, Playhouse, Sydney Opera House, Sydney, November 11, 2023
Gar Jones
In this telling, the cross gartered major domo is one Malvolia - a starkly present servant in the household of the Countess Olivia (she who is in mourning for her dead brother). The dry pomposity of Malvolia is beautifully delivered by Jane Montgomery Griffiths, but more importantly she plumbs the depths of the character’s abasement and betrayal: the canker of anguish and despair that dominates the trajectory of a wicked jape. We see how the threat of madness can so easily be released and how the imbalance of the world may lead to stupefaction and betrayal. Here, Malvolia is deeply degraded, trussed in imagined darkness. She has listened to falsehood and dared to believe in the chances of power and love. Her slow, aching withdrawal from the dungeon of the upright piano – the musical darkness so to speak – was both a highlight of stage craft and a salutary impost on our too humorous observance. The outrageous costuming - yellowed and cross gartered - and the unending grin of manufactured happiness were deeply amusing, but in this performance the downfall of this unlikeable character also leads us towards pity and a warning on how the trenches of revenge are dug deep.
In this production, the shipwrecked twins swap gender in the swirling mists – so Viola is first spotted as a young woman (Isabel Burton) who disguises herself as a young servant boy whose role is henceforth assumed by Alfie Gledhill, as a boy playing a girl, who is pretending to be a servant boy (Cesario) – much as it would have been enacted in Shakespeare’s day. This casting lends a particular frisson to Cesario’s interaction with the love-struck Duke Orsini, who extravagantly woos the Countess Olivia but increasingly finds himself attracted to the boy servant (the boy/girl). This was deliciously handled by Orsini (Garth Holcombe) and Cesario (Alfie Gledhill), with many piquant evasions and double takes. Burton’s assumption of the twin brother, Sebastian, was both deft and robust – drawing a boyish strength to the fight with Sir Andrew.
The Countess’ household hosts the comic trio of the all-knowing and hardened Maria, the Falstaffian Sir Toby Belch and the jackanape Sir Andrew Augucheek. These roles were well cast with Mike Howlett embedding supreme physical comedy in his assumption of Sir Andrew. His prattling daftness and silly walk stiffness created grand comic business. His moments of clarity, when he is aware that Sir Toby is playing him for a mug and the next belch of ale and cakes, were like little acid drops cast over his general imbecility. His extravagant costuming – particularly his slim line garishly striped suit - were triumphs of miss-taste. His pursuit of the Countess is slapdash and soon ameliorated by wine and laughter. His flirtation with Maria is believable – her knowing evasions were prettily witty. He also shades his tomfoolery with a touch of melancholy: “I was adored once”.
Keith Agius delivered Sir Toby as a bearded and kilted rogue – a drunkard, back slapping and curdled - but dripping with street smarts. He knows how to milk the cash cow - and works in tandem with Maria (Amy Hack) to progress his deeply selfish agenda. They are both rogues. Sir Toby’s self-aggrandisement has some base charm and Maria, indeed, may be that “true beagle” who adores him. She helps to ensure that Sir Andrew’s purse continues to flow into his belly in his daft pursuit of the Countess in marriage. It is Sir Toby who lets Maria have her own way in the nasty overthrow of Malvolia. The nastiness underpinning their jibing was nicely balanced with our desire to see the pompous deflated. Maria truly meant it when called after Malvolia: “Go shake your ears”. Her servant eye calls out the vice of self-love. In the letter scene, the “some have greatness thrust upon them” interplay was deliciously enacted by all players.
Feste - who flits between the household of the Countess and the Duke, flits as easily between genders. He is a slim and elegantly erotic clown with gorgeous long legs, shafted by red high heeled boots, angular as a model in his body-hugging vest (Tomas Kantor). This treacherous soul vamps amongst the players and flirts across the sexes bringing a hard edge to Shakespeare captivating imp. The clown sings both falsetto and baritone – and brings a moaning energy centre stage. “Youth’s a stuff will not endure” and “come away, come away death” he craftily intones. His vocal tessituras were truly reflected in “O Mistress mine”: “that can sing both high and low”. His cruelty was savagely real in “like a made lad/pare they nails, dad” as he taunted the wretched Malvolia, underpinned by some private aggrievement. We might well believe part of Malvolia’s assessment that Feste is “a barren rascal”.
The transformation of the Countess from groaning bereavement to moaning love is not an easy transition. Like the Duke she has fallen for the cross gartered gender of the girl playing a boy. Ursula Mills managed this transition, but her vocal resources were limited with regards the forceful text and is comic possibilities. She was unable to inhabit the gravitas of the haughty aristocrat, whose independence and power is a magnet for her suitors. “I see what you are, you are too proud” intones Cesario, but we did not see and feel it.
The stout-hearted Antonio was nicely essayed by Chrissy Mae. The sense of outrage at the misshapen Sebastian’s betrayal was hectoringly believable.
The staging was spare but effective. The wooden branches that weave their way around Malvolia and the treachery of her three interlocuters – Maria, Toby, and Andrew - was deftly done. The costuming was vivid – from Olivia’s deep lacy mourning to Feste’s elegant drag (set and costumes by Charles Davis).
The original music (songs) and soundscapes (Sarah Blasko and David Bergman) were finely tuned to the dramatic intent – and added a haunting layer to the drama. The lighting (Verity Hampson) instantiated storm and nightscape and lover’s final benediction.
The overall direction by Heather Fairbairn gave us a coherent framework to receive the earthy humour and dark deceit that underpins the work – all with a robust clarity and gentle teasing. Bell Shakespeare sometimes gets things distinctly right, even when certain actors cannot achieve consistently good diction. “If music be the food of love, play on”. This was highly enjoyable play.
Bell Shakespeare Company, Playhouse, Sydney Opera House, Sydney, November 11, 2023
Gar Jones