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December 10 - December 16, 2003
Twelfth Night
John Barry
Forty miles north of Washington, D.C., where $20 million has just
been earmarked for the Shakespeare Theatre, Run of the Mill's production
of Twelfth Night might be considered a radically stripped-down vision
of Shakespeare, superimposed onto a Beckettian landscape.
By tackling Shakespeare's romantic comedy with the absolute minimum
in cast size and staging--and with a remarkably flexible sextet
of actors--the Run of the Mill Theater has come up with a starker,
edgier version of a classic.
On a bare stage almost bereft of props, the darker ironies of Twelfth
Night become more pronounced. When the Duke Orsino (Neal Freeman)
tells his guitar player that music is the food of love, he sounds
bitter and desperate. He's pining away over Olivia (April Crowell),
who not only doesn't love him but also refuses to see him.
That melancholy note pretty much sets the tone for unrequited love
in this comedy. The more impossible it becomes to consummate, the
more determined characters are to while away their waking hours,
trying to stuff themselves with the harmonies, dissonance, and counterpoints
that their love creates. They wind up falling for transvestites,
dead sailors, cloistered women, and themselves.
The small cast undermines Shakespeare's own decision to turn this
play into a group effort. It also makes for a few interesting admixtures.
Director Neal Freeman, for instance, assigns himself the role of
two romantic rivals, Orsino and Andrew Aguecheek. So while Aguecheek
is usually a comic foil for Orsino, in this production his comic
passivity seems to mix with Orsino's passion to create a sort of
whirlwind of unsatisfied desire.
Rapid transitions, onstage costume changes, and the generally fast
pace of this production encourage parallels that you may not notice
in a fully cast production. Malvolio (James Bunzel) is typically
a vain, ridiculous steward; in this production, though, he doesn't
seem as isolated from the others as he usually is. Dana Whipkey's
Toby Belch is less of a farcical figure than he is often played--at
points he seems to be the most even-keeled, despite his proclivity
for cakes and ale.
This production has its drawbacks, though. As we watch characters
switch identities at almost twice the rate of the original, the
plot line inevitably gets muddied. Some of the more subtle transformations--particularly
in the romance between Olivia and Viola (Janel Miley, pictured right)--get
lost when Miley is forced to add the role of the maid Maria to her
list of characters. Don't get me wrong: That this impressive cast
manages to juggle roles and raise the bar on local Shakespeare at
the same time says a lot for them. If only they, too, had $20 million,
so they could do a little less juggling.
© 2003 Baltimore City Paper. All Rights Reserved.
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