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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.


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