Review: Twelfth Night (Royal Shakespeare Theatre)

Review by Raphael Kohn

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Samuel West’s maniacal smile on the poster of the RSC’s new production of Twelfth Night doesn’t exactly set this production up to be what I expected. Surely, this hinted to more of a fast-paced, borderline ludicrous production, perhaps with dashes of slapstick and logic-devoid chaos? It’s a bit of a surprise that the actual thing, on stage, is a bit more calm, quiet, and bittersweet than expected. Well, serves me right for almost judging a book by its cover then, because this new festive production of Shakespeare’s wintery comedy has all the makings of something unexpectedly brilliant.

This is much more dramedy than comedy, actually. It’s the same text as always (with some minor additions, mostly for laughs), filled with love triangles, mistaken identities, and gender flipping. Somehow, the main love story between Duke Orsino and Countess Olivia is almost sidelined, with the vast number of side characters each having so much time in the spotlight. Does it all get resolved and explained? Not really, but there’s a limit to what you can do with an Elizabethan text.

And so we have this central couple, with the delightful Bally Gill and Freema Agyeman doing all they can to bring some detail and wit to their characterisations, sending Viola (disguised as a man, Cesario, and played by the charismatic Gwyneth Keyworth) back and forth. He loves her. She doesn’t love him. And Viola’s the spanner in the works to confuse the both of them. There’s a hint of queerness to the whole thing, but its never explored fully – perhaps though, in this thematically busy production, that’s a good thing.

Because here’s what director Prasanna Puwanarajah is doing differently. This whole show is tinged, and beautifully so, with a sense of dark melancholy throughout. The mood is set by James Cotterill’s dark and brooding stage, black and minimalist to begin with, but slowly opening up to reveal layers of intrigue. Halfway through the first act, the main set actually appears, a gorgeous pipe organ to provide a number of hidden tricks.

Throughout the show, it’s all a bit understated, and a little bit muted. The action plays on, at a touch of a slow speed, with few of the comedic setpieces drawing the raucous laughter I expected. But that only plays to Puwanarajah’s strengths, who balances darkness with light superbly. Yes, there’s some humour in Olivia’s alcoholic uncle Toby, and the tremendous strength of the clown Feste. But Puwanarajah also digs deep into the darkness of a story that opens with grief and mourning (which is not played for laughs this time around), and involves bullying and ridicule.

I’ll admit I wasn’t sold on this by the interval. It’s as if I was waiting a long time for the punchlines to the jokes, for the humour to actually appear fully. But like a lightbulb moment, the second act hit me, and hit me hard. I wasn’t the only one – the room filled with sniffles and genuine tears as the story reached its conclusion. Both the tear-jerking reunion of separated siblings and the beautifully reflective music as the play reaches its end give it a truly melancholic note to end on.

There’s also a nastier tone coming through in the subplot of the nasty steward of Olivia’s house, Malvolio (played by a superb Samuel West), and the way he gets bullied by a number of members of the house. It’s normally a joy to see him tricked into wearing the iconic cross-gartered yellow stockings – and to an extent is even in this production. West camps around the stage gloriously, smiling almost satanically, and it is a sight to behold. But what comes next is even better – a thoughtful interpretation of his plight that implicates us all in the audience. When he delivers his famous final line, ‘I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you’, it’s as if we are all complicit in his bullying, all of us bystanders in the audience.

Luckily though, Puwanarajah gives enough comedy to balance, which mostly comes in the form of Michael Grady-Hall’s exquisite Feste. He has it all – excellent vocals in his singing, tremendous physical comedy from his very first moments, and perfect comedic timing throughout. He’s not just a clown, but a true entertainer too, singing Matt Maltese’s new compositions for the show with gorgeous style. A number of the songs are written in a slow jazz style, initially giving the show a romantic edge but finally wrapping the whole show up with the poignancy it deserves.

And so what we end up with is a Twelfth Night as bittersweet as a 90% dark chocolate, its sugary comedy offset by a wintery darkness. It’s a slow-burner throughout, apart from some comedic scenes, but somehow it just fits together perfectly to make a production that has a slightly dreamy quality, with a well-emulsified mix of comedy and melancholy. Maybe in the cold of winter, we all need a bit of that this year.

Twelfth Night plays at the RSC’s Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 18th January 2025. Tickets from https://www.rsc.org.uk/twelfth-night/

Photos by Helen Murray