The National Theatre is doing its
bit to help us survive the covid-19 pandemic by enlisting Shakespeare and broadcasting
some of its productions on YouTube. On Shakespeare’s birthday, we were treated
to its 2017 production of Twelfth Night directed by Simon
Godwin.
As with most productions of Shakespeare, the question in
what does (or can) the director and the designer bring to a play that is familiar
and is available in the theatre, on film or DVD to be seen numerous times.
Godwin and Designer Soutra
Gilmour put their own imprimatur on the production and, not surprisingly, push
the boundaries with the intent to surprise, fascinate and entertain. In the usual
course of subjective reactions, I give some credit and raise some eyebrows at
the result.
It is done in modern dress with a
generous portion of modern music. The set consists of two staircases that meet
at the apex. They are set on a revolving stage and are used frequently.
Gender switches are almost de rigueur
and Godwin partakes of the trend generously. Malvolio becomes Malvolia (Tamsin
Greig), Fabian is Fabia (Imogen Doel) and Feste is played by Doon Mackichan. No issue with any of those changes and they
are all done well.
Godwin is faithful to the text
with the insignificant changes of pronouns where necessary but he wants modern
intonations and the creation of energy. Phoebe Fox as Olivia is aggressive to
the point of appearing to be overacting. When Cesario drops by she does a lot
more than try to persuade him that she has
fallen in love with him. She strips to a bathing suit and enters a hot tub. She
pulls Cesario in the water as she makes it perfectly clear that, to put it indelicately,
she has the hots for him.
Malvolia is in love with Olivia
and he aspires to have her. Does Malvolia harbour same-sex feelings for her? Of
course she does and if there is any doubt the answer lies in the final scene
when Malvolia threatens to get even with the pack of her abusers and takes off
her wig revealing or confirming that she is a lesbian. Greig gives a superb
performance as she shows her ambition to rise above Olivia’s servants and her
brother Sir Toby.
Sea Captain Antonio (Adam Best), may
harbour homosexual feelings towards his friend Sebastian but he is a minor character
and the relationship is only hinted at.
The gulling of Malvolia is never
pleasant to watch but Godwin has her blindfolded and tied up and her treatment
is especially cruel. There is no way of making that scene acceptable.
We have the hilarious scene where
Sebastian (Daniel Ezra), mistaken by Sir Toby (Tim McMullan) and Sir Andrew (Daniel
Rigby) for the cowardly Cesario, attack him. He gives far more than he gets and
Olivia comes out screaming at the attackers. But the scene in Shakespeare’s
text takes place in front of Olivia’s house. In this production the incident
takes place in the Elephant pub. What are Toby and Andrew doing there and how
is Olivia able to jump in and stop the fight? A stretcher too far.
Tamara Lawrence is an excellent
Viola/Cesario as is Oliver Chris as Orsino. I enjoyed Phoebe’s spunk as Olivia
and Mackichan is a highly enjoyable Feste. The acting of all is to the National
Theatre standard which is indeed high.
The sets place the action
basically nowhere. Going up a staircase does not locate the action anywhere.
The attention to the text is admirable. Godwin makes sure that all lines are
delivered carefully and clearly. A pleasure to the ear.
Twelfth Night like all
plays is set in a world that had a different ethos. The closet homosexuality,
the gender swaps and characterization details are in the hands and imagination
of the director. But imposing current morality and standards on characters that
are rooted in another world I find incongruous and unsettling. What they do in
the play belongs to the era when they presumably existed and having Orsino
drive up to Olivia’s door does not add anything to a great play.
In addition to Shakespeare, the
national Theatre has enlisted other allies in its fight of covid-19 and you can
get the details here: https://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/
