Often the first two scenes of the play are presented in reversed order, but this production does something interesting. After a moment of Feste (John Allee) at the piano playing a song of melancholy, the action begins with the second scene; that is, with Viola (Liza Seneca) having reached shore and asking, “What country, friends, is this?” She is wrapped in a blanket, still cold from the water. This happens center stage, the playing space divided into three sections: an interior setting with an upright piano on stage right, a patio setting stage left, and stairs leading to a dock upstage center. All of it, by the way, has a pleasant vibe. Then, after Viola’s line “Orsino. I have heard my father name him,” she and the others center stage freeze, and the action continues stage right with that very Orsino (David DeSantos) delivering what is the first line of the text, that wonderful and famous line, “If music be the food of love, play on.” And Feste does so, at least until Orsino tells him to stop, one of the many funny moments of the scene. After the line “Ere since pursue me,” the action returns to Viola, who repeats her line about having heard the name Orsino, and the scene continues from there. Then when Olivia is mentioned, the action center stage is again frozen, and we are introduced to Olivia, in her veil, stage left. There is no dialogue there, but it is a way to introduce the other main player of that triangle all within the first few moments of the performance, and to make clear who each of them is. And with a bit of stage magic, Viola quickly becomes Cesario, putting on a mustache, and then being able to step straight into the fourth scene, when Orsino calls for him (her). All of this works to pull the audience quickly into the world and action of the play.
The production then moves back to the third scene, introducing Toby (Rob Nagle), Maria (Kitty Swink) and Sir Andrew (Alberto Isaac), and we get the sense that this is happening simultaneously with the action between Orsino and Cesario. Toby is delightful as he retrieves flasks hidden in his boots and various spots around the set on lines like “With drinking healths to my niece.” We immediately align ourselves with him, for who in these ugly days of our nation doesn’t want to drink himself into a stupor? This production’s Andrew might be the shortest I’ve seen, giving Toby’s line “He’s as tall a man as any’s in Illyria” more of a teasing quality than it normally has. Usually, that line is delivered as perhaps the only true compliment that can be given that character, though still playing on the word’s other meaning of “brave”; here, Toby can’t even give him that. And before the scene is over, Toby has picked poor Andrew’s pocket. Meanwhile, Orsino is instructing Cesario on how to woo Olivia on his behalf. On his line about Cesario’s small pipe, Orsino takes hold of Viola’s throat, and we sense she might swoon, the action intimate in an unexpected way. Yet we can’t help but think of the implied violence of the action, which is fitting for some of Orsino’s later lines.
Olivia (Veralyn Jones, who played Gertrude in the theatre’s excellent 2022 production of Hamlet) comes across as a no-nonsense sort of person when we first meet her. Her dry delivery of “Take the fool away” is hilarious. And if Olivia is a no-nonsense person, Malvolio (Joel Swetow) seems to take that quality to an extreme. He is so serious, so somber, in his stance, disposition and expression. He seems ready, perhaps eager, to remove Feste by hand if necessary. It isn’t until Olivia’s “Can you do it?” (here delivered as “Can you? Do it”) that he steps away from Feste and returns to her side. Malvolio’s angry expression when Feste tells Olivia that her brother’s soul is in hell is perfect. He has not yet spoken a word, yet has expressed so much. When Maria tells Olivia of Cesario’s presence at the gate, she stresses “young” in both sentences the word appears, making that seem the person’s most important quality to her, and perhaps to Olivia too. Age certainly is a factor in this production. When Olivia removes her veil and says “such a one I was,” the word “was” stands out. Yet Olivia has a decidedly youthful energy when asking if Cesario likes what he sees, clearly needing a compliment. Another thing that is interesting is that in Olivia’s presence it is not just Malvolio who has a somber countenance and bearing, but Maria too. We see it when she takes the pages from Cesario, looks them over and tosses them to the floor. She takes her position as seriously as Malvolio does. The two have a similar stature, as well.
Both Liza Seneca and Veralyn Jones are excellent in that scene where Viola and Olivia first meet. As Viola says what she’d do in Orsino’s place, it is clear she is thinking of Orsino and what she herself would like to do. She is wonderful as she gets carried away. And Olivia is equally wonderful as she misreads Viola’s excitement. She is particularly good as she realizes her own attraction to Cesario, as she works it out in that speech alone on stage, and is surprised at discovering her attraction. Veralyn Jones makes us feel for Olivia, even to the point where we wish she weren’t deceived. And as the play continues, we feel for her more. That moment when she asks Cesario what he thinks of her carries with it a sad desperation, one which she likely didn’t have in younger days. Interestingly, she touches Cesario’s neck, but Viola’s reaction is the opposite of what it was when Orsino touched the same spot. But Olivia is determinedly blind to it, and she is nearly giddy later when she says she has sent for him and that he agreed to come.
There is a sense of melancholy in this production, part of which might be due the characters being older and having not yet attained what they might have wished. So when Feste sings the line “Youth’s a stuff will not endure,” it has more weight than usual. We see how the line hits both Toby and Andrew, affecting them for at least a moment. And maybe that is why they both feel a desire, a need, to join Feste in a brighter song, to overcome that mood. The three sing “Hold Thy Peace” in a round, and not only that, but get the audience singing too. It’s a joyous and fun moment, with Toby and Andrew on tambourines as well. When it is interrupted, Toby becomes furious. His delivery of “Am I not of her blood” has anger and power, and is actually quite moving, for here we get an idea of how he sees himself, and it’s not all playfulness. It’s an excellent moment in an outstanding performance. It’s really Maria who brings the sense of fun back to these characters as the idea of Malvolio’s gulling occurs to her. One thing that’s especially wonderful here is that she seems to be doing it, at least in part, because of a need she perceives in Toby for such a thing. She truly does care for him. And the two even kiss. After Andrew’s “I was ador’d once too,” a tear threatens to drop from his eye. We feel for the characters more in this production.
Perhaps we feel for Malvolio a little earlier than we should. Leading up to his gulling, Toby, Feste and Andrew take up positions among the audience, Andrew on one side, Toby and Feste on the other. That gives Malvolio the entire stage to himself, and so he takes our focus, our near-complete attention. While he begins the scene wrapped up in himself, gazing at a mirror, it isn’t long before he is stripping himself of much of his outward appearance. Even his voice changes, Malvolio now speaking in a more relaxed manner. And we in the audience can’t help but feel for him. That makes many of the comments that Toby delivers from the audience seem mean rather than necessary take-downs. For Malvolio has, in a strong sense, taken himself down before us. And because Toby and the others speak from the audience, it is as if they also speak for us, and we find ourselves less happy with what they are saying on our behalf. It’s a remarkable effect, something I haven’t experienced before in any production of this play. And it’s not to say there isn’t humor in this scene, for this is plenty, but almost all of it comes from Malvolio himself. Joel Swetow does a phenomenal job here, and is adorable as he works out the letter and finds it to his advantage. He is so good, in fact, that he exits to great applause. And then returns to read the postscript to equally great laughter.
There is, of course, much more laughter when he enters in his yellow stockings. Malvolio wears black shorts to better display those stockings. When Olivia says, “Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio,” Malvolio turns to the audience, clearly having misunderstood Olivia’s intentions, much the same way she herself has misunderstood Cesario’s, both of them eager for affection. His expression shows what he believes to be his great fortune. Maria delivers the line that is Fabian’s in the text, “If this were play’d upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction,” saying it straight to the audience, which is hilarious. A little later, Kitty Swink switches roles from Maria to Fabian, and is absolutely delightful with a straightforward delivery. Malvolio’s prison cell is located up center, where the dock was at the beginning of the play. And while Feste does an excellent job pretending to be the curate (his line “I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown” is especially met with appreciation), we are more sympathetic to Malvolio, in large part because of the way he revealed himself earlier. We feel he doesn’t deserve this treatment.
One problem that all productions of Twelfth Night have to address and conquer is that of the appearance of Viola and Sebastian. They are twins, and so they must resemble each other. It’s shocking how often they do not. And yes, as audience members we are under some obligation to suspend our disbelief, but it would be good if productions met us halfway in this regard. No character, not even Olivia who apparently sleeps with one of them, not even Feste in his particular wisdom, is able to tell the two apart. Wearing the same costume is obviously a good start, but it really shouldn’t end there. If I saw someone wearing the same outfit my girlfriend wears, I wouldn’t take that person home. At the very least, productions should make sure the two have the same hair (which can be done with dye, haircuts, wigs). In this production, Viola has long blond hair, while Sebastian has short dark hair. Yet no one is able to tell the two apart. While, yes, the characters are older than usual, they are not so old that their eyesight has diminished to that extent. That being said, Isaac Ybarra does quite a good job as Sebastian. And Luis Kelly-Duarte is excellent as Antonio, not always an easy role. When Sebastian reveals his identity to Antonio, Antonio kneels before him, leading to Sebastian’s “whom I know you have heard of.” Toward the end when Sebastian says “I had a sister,” Feste begins a sweet song on piano. John Allee, by the way, in addition to playing Feste, composed the music for this production. When Viola says, “That I am Viola,” she turns to Orsino, saying her name to him, as if finally being able to properly introduce herself, a wonderful moment. Orsino then, on “Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,” takes Sebastian by the arm rather than Viola, still confusing the two. Viola’s response is what clues Orsino in on his mistake. Not all the characters find the same joy in the play’s conclusion, but Feste plays the final song on piano, and it’s a lively rendition, the rest of the characters – including Malvolio – joining in, ending on a spirited and joyous note.
This production of Twelfth
Night runs through March 17, 2025. Visit the theatre’s website for the
complete schedule. There is one intermission, which comes at the end of Act II.
Antaeus Theatre Company performs at Kiki & David Gindler Performing Arts
Center at 110 East Broadway in Glendale, California.
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