The RSC's current production of Twelfth Night is riotously funny but, thankfully, does not ignore the darker elements of the play. Previous versions have done so (notably, the 1997 RSC production), playing the entire thing for laughs to the detriment of this complex play, possibly Shakespeare's finest comedy. But Gregory Doran's Twelfth Night is not short on humour and it is always a joy to experience a production of Shakespeare which doesn't just exist as an historical curiosity but is a relevant and vigorous play in its own right. This Twelfth Night didn't just seem like something which should be enjoyed and appreciated because it is Shakespeare - it wasn't in the least tired or bombastic but full of life and interest.
Set against an ostensibly Ottoman backdrop, the action in Illyria is lent an exotic and hedonistic quality by the incense bearers, hookah pipes, and colourful lanterns which process across the stage at various points. And then the characters arrive in English Regency costume with a few pairs of harem pants thrown in (looking like a nod to Renaissance pantaloons) – a bit of a visual non sequitur along with the plastic sea wave protruding from backstage right, confusingly behind a high city wall. Although the set and setting do not make complete sense, the atmosphere that they help to create is spot-on; this is a far away and isolated wonderland which operates under different rules from those at home.
Malvolio's discovery of the prank letter is the crowning glory of a very funny play with an excellent cast. James Fleet stands out as the preening Andrew Aguecheek, and Richard McCabe is effortlessly hilarious as the gross Sir Toby. One cannot forgo a mention of Richard Wilson as Malvolio, possibly the biggest lure of this production; he gives a good but predictable performance with more than a hint of Victor Meldrew in it, but his advanced years definitely add another element to the abasement he is made to suffer at the hands of Sir Toby and Maria. Miltos Yerolemou gives a nuanced performance as Feste; he is a fool with a tragic bent, crying real tears when Olivia uncovers the cruel jest in which he played a part. Accompanying the musicians on stage at the end of the interval, Yerolemou entertains the audience, not in the character of Feste, but as a courtly fool and this is just one example of the exquisite attention to detail that makes this production such a joy. Doran has really thought about the conventions of Elizabethan theatre and brought them back to life here – this is art as pure and unadulterated entertainment.
Perhaps the revelatory last scene, where Cesario/Viola's gender-bending comes to light, isn't as much the carnivalesqe inversion it may have once been; the shock with which Jo Stone-Fewings' Duke Orsino contemplates having had the hots for a girl dressed as a boy, and mistaking Sebastian for his sister, doesn't quite resonate with a modern theatre audience. We can live with Orsino's dalliance in bisexuality, but Antonio's exclusion is more troubling. The final scene is sill humorous and can be taken in the rip-roaringly funny tone intended, but Antonio's pain at being denied by Sebastian lingers on as does Malvolio’s cruel humiliation. A final procession of dispossessed and broken individuals follows that last scene, where comedic custom would have everyone neatly paired off, to stress that the loose ends are far from being tied up in a world where men can harm others for their own sport.
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