There is something distinctly natal about Viola’s entrance to David Farr’s zany take on Twelfth Night. Erupting from a shimmering pool of blue water, Emily Taaffe lies gasping and spluttering in front of a slightly splashed front row, while behind her, a new and fantastic world begins to take shape. Farr has taken Olivia’s house of grief and transformed it into a clapped-out hotel, complete with French-style maids, an extraordinary mobility scooter and a genuinely rickety elevator. On the face of it, this probably shouldn’t work; on balance, it certainly does.
The Royal Shakespeare Company is, this summer, producing a trilogy of ‘shipwreck comedies’ – A Comedy of Errors, The Tempest, and Twelfth Night, in which the same cast takes all the roles. This has lead to some unusual casting decisions: Kirsty Bushell’s Olivia, though clearly a competent choice, is possibly a touch mature for her sudden infatuation with Cesario to be truly convincing; likewise, Viola is sometimes a little strident. The love story is booted to the back seat, while the subplot is realised in glaring – occasionally even obscene – technicolour. Jonathan Slinger deserves a special mention here: his Malvolio is at once ridiculous, appropriately arrogant and yet strangely touching. The occasional glimpse of a set of slightly flabby buttocks in his ‘cross-gartered’ get-ups will not quickly be forgotten. Farr’s production has passion, zest, and occasionally even a little too much fun. This is a massively engaging production in which energy levels of audience and cast are consistently high. Costume and set design are superb, acting is consistent and strong, lighting is exciting.
If you can, make a special trip to Stratford-upon-Avon as soon as possible. If you can’t face journeying to the Midlands, do not despair: it is being shown in London from July. A tremendous show.
FOUR STARS
