"I Didn't Mean To Turn You On": Shakespeare's Twelfth Night
Twelfth Night reminded us of that Capitol Hill party where you drink too much and spend all your time flirting with someone who puts you off and then later you see them begging someone else to take them home, but by then you just shake your head and stagger off to the Canterbury to meet up with friends.
The young Two Hours Traffic puts together a sometimes creditable stab at the play. The Chamber Theatre is more or less a black box, and there's no set to speak of, except for some sand to suggest the island of Illyria. The cast's talent ranges from professional grade to the "please just get offstage without doing anything embarrassing."
Arthur Allen's lovestruck Duke Orsino anchors the show. Like his page Cesario (Viola in disguise), we were happy to listen to him discourse on his heart's torments. Morgan Aldrich pulled off the Viola/Cesario switch-up handily, and projects just the right amount of cute insouciance and ambition.
We were rooting for her to find her brother Sebastian (Christian Duhamel) and win the Duke away from his infatuation with Olivia (haughty hottie Felisa Smithson, sporting a lingerie-clad balcony Romeo could have hid under). Olivia's home is the base of a trio of beachcomber reprobates, Sir Toby Belch (a drunkenly conniving Chris Macdonald), Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Michael Ledezma, in a limply loose-jointed tour de force), and Maria (Sann Hall, spunky and sassy in spades). For after-the-jump reasons, this last group steals the show -- with the help of Feste (Gannon Patton) the clown: irascible, clever, a step away from homelessness.
One last bit advice: Suck down a drink or two beforehand, and invite someone you're not into (or who's not into you). That's how you make Shakespeare relevant.
Twelfth Night
Through January 20, 2007
Chamber Theatre at Oddfellows Hall
Tickets: $10-$30
Our problems with the play stem from Rusty Tennant's direction. The pacing was erratic and energy didn't always build -- the cast sometimes overacted in response, getting loud and shrieky, or sped through lines -- but it was opening night, so that might improve.
Secondly, we're fine with the oversexed island life, we put up with the business of sweeping the sand around, we even liked the use of puppets for minor expository characters, but we drew the line at a Mistress Malvolio: If a dour, stuck-up, suck-up steward shows up grinning ear to ear and wearing fancy yellow stockings because he thinks he's got a shot at a countess, that's funny.
If a prissy, grayish woman with no prospects (Mary Poppins at 67, say, all medicine and no sugar) accidentally outs herself as a lesbian to general amusement, that's less sidesplitting. Malvolio is a tricky enough part in the first place -- but undermining the plot by not recognizing that Shakespeare is scoring points off male social status is simply, as Gob would say, a "terrible mistake."
