Twelfth Night (Antaeus Theatre Company’s 2025 Production) Theatre Review

The Antaeus Theatre Company’s new production of Twelfth Night, which opened this weekend, presents a fresh look at the characters and story of Shakespeare’s beloved comedy. Directed by Armin Shimerman, this production finds the characters somewhat older than they are usually portrayed, and as we know with age comes some (at least we hope) wisdom and certainly a good deal of pain, and that is reflected in the performances. The desires, however, remain the same, especially for love, though the chances might be, or at least feel, diminished. And that is why Sir Andrew’s line “I was ador’d once too” can be so heartbreaking. Perhaps for him love exists only in the past. If this sounds like a downer, don’t worry, the play is still a comedy and elicits a great deal of laughter. But it might have you thinking about the characters a bit more than usual on your way out of the theatre, and that is certainly not a bad thing.

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.

Macbeth (A Noise Within 2025 Production) Theatre Review

production photo by Craig Schwartz

It has been suggested that the strongest marriage partnership in all of Shakespeare’s work is that of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, and the new production of the play at A Noise Within does take steps to show the strength of that relationship, and the love between the two, as well as the heartache. And that is one of the strengths of this production, which opened last night. It is directed by Andi Chapman and features Kamal Bolden and Julanne Chidi Hill as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth respectively, leading a remarkable cast. It can be risky to set a Shakespeare play in a different time and place, perhaps especially one referred to most often as “the Scottish play,” but this production sets the action in New Orleans in the early twentieth century, as the program notes, “A time of rich cultural diversity and social exchange.” But don’t let that worry you too much. The text has not been changed, so it does still take place in Scotland, but with that New Orleans flavor, which is felt in some of the movement as well as the music used and the presence of Spanish moss hanging above the audience on both sides of the stage.

A single chair is placed just stage left of center, with a blue cloth draped over the back. As the audience enters the theater, Lady Macbeth takes that seat and arranges the blue cloth as if it holds a baby, which she cradles in her arms. If you’ve read or seen Macbeth, you’ve doubtless wondered about the child that Lady Macbeth alludes to in the lines, “I have given suck, and know/How tender ‘tis to love the babe that milks me.” With this production, those lines are in our minds from the moment we are seated. Some folks still managed to carry on their conversations, but more were focused on this woman, drawn to her silent performance before the actual full performance began. It was a gently powerful way to start, and when Macbeth enters behind her, she is in tears. He offers her comfort. And there is a beautiful moment when she sets the babe free, and the blue cloth flies up like an angel. Several people in the audience gasped, so striking and unexpected was that image. What a way to start the performance and to show us something of their relationship. When Lady Macbeth exists, Macbeth is then outfitted for battle, and we see a change in him, in his demeanor, in his stance. Macbeth is different when he is with his wife.

The first time the witches, or weird sisters (Mildred Marie Langford, Joy DeMichelle, Roshni Shukla), appear, they are dressed in black hooded cloaks, giving them a certain air of mystery. The battle scene that follows still holds a sense of the strange, as in those moments when things slow and the lights change. There is a sense of some other power at work, and perhaps it belongs at least partially to us in the audience who are perceiving the action. When next the weird sisters appear, they are no longer in black cloaks and, at least for a moment, seem almost normal, almost ordinary. Interestingly, it is after the line “Macbeth doth come” that they take on a more mystical demeanor. And we wonder if it is in reaction to his presence, or a performance they do for his benefit. And thus we consider these women a little more closely than usual. Banquo (Michael Boatman) has a lighter disposition, a pleasant, easygoing cheer. His reaction is in some contrast to Macbeth’s, regarding the sisters. It isn’t until Macbeth is declared Thane of Cawdor that he really takes them seriously, glancing at the spot where they had been. Macbeth reacts with a different sort of surprise at hearing Malcolm (Randolph Thompson) proclaimed heir to the throne, and it is interesting how quickly he has taken to heart the sisters’ words. Malcolm is the last to exit at the end of that scene, pausing for a moment as the weight of that pronouncement strikes him. In that brief moment, we sense that he will take his responsibilities seriously, that he will be a good ruler. He gets that much across with just his expression.

As Lady Macbeth reads the letter from her husband, we at first hear Macbeth’s voice. Then she joins her voice with his, and eventually his fades out. That’s another interesting way of showing their relationship, and perhaps it hints at what is to come. For at first he seems to be the dominant voice, but she will soon steer the course of things. Also, we get the sense in this production that he wishes to give her good news, to offer her some source of cheer. On “Come, you spirits,” she speaks outward as if she might see those spirits. And she is ready to command them; and if them, then it seems she will have no trouble bending her husband to her will. After Macbeth enters, her line “Thy letters have transported me” seems to indicate also the idea that she has a renewed energy, a new life to her, precisely what Macbeth had hoped. Her new energy is also heard in the line “Leave all the rest to me.”

When Duncan (Alex Morris, who was hilarious in 2023’s production of The Book Of Will), Banquo and the others arrive, they are now dressed in formal, official attire. The costume designer for this production is Wendell C. Carmichael. There is an interesting moment when Duncan removes his crown and hands it to Lady Macbeth, I suppose as a way of indicating that he is not taking over her home but is a guest. One of the scenes when the New Orleans flavor is particularly notable is when Macbeth delivers his “If it were done” speech, for as he enters through one of the upstage doors we hear snatches of jazz coming from what is clearly a lively dinner among the guests. When Macbeth tells Lady Macbeth that they will not proceed with their plan, she becomes upset, and we sense that is due, at least in part, to a fear that this renewed life she now feels will come to a halt. Again, that opening moment really informs and colors much of what we in the audience experience throughout the performance. We wonder if without this plan, she fears she’ll revert back to sadness, that this plan is keeping her focused on something other than her earlier misery. Macbeth again goes to comfort her when she delivers her lines about dashing the brains out, but this time she won’t allow him, stepping back from his intended embrace. It’s a striking moment. But their relationship is strong, and on Macbeth’s “False face must hide what the false heart doth know,” they clasp hands.

There is an interesting moment at the end of the scene with Macbeth, Banquo and Fleance (Noemi Avalos), where Banquo and Fleance start to leave, but Fleance runs back to give Macbeth a hug. This shows that there was a strong friendship between Macbeth and Banquo, strong enough that Banquo’s son was familiar and comfortable with Macbeth. And of course it makes the depths that Macbeth is to fall even greater. When Macbeth goes about his task, the elements themselves react, or perhaps take part, with lightning, thunder and eerie sounds filling the space. Macbeth is captivating on the “sleep no more” speech. Lady Macbeth leads him off, showing that she is now the stronger of the two. The Porter enters from a door below the ramp in center stage, as if coming from the very “hell-gate” that he mentions in his speech, and carries a trumpet. When Macduff (Ben Cain) enters, Lady Macduff (Mildred Marie Langford) is with him, carrying a baby, something that is not in the text, but which gives the audience a chance to see them together. Because Donalbain is cut from this production, Malcolm delivers his speech about leaving for England to the audience, and his “Let’s not consort with them” becomes “I’ll not consort with them.” The Old Man is also cut, and the Porter takes his lines about Duncan’s horses eating each other.

Macbeth’s lines about a “fruitless crown” and “barren scepter” carry more weight, and more pain, in this production because of that opening moment. When Macbeth says, “It is concluded,” we feel that he means not just the trouble about Banquo, but the entire business, that he believes this will be the end of the bloodshed and he can return to the person he was. We know he’s wrong, but strangely we feel for him and wish this could be an end to his unrest. In every production of Macbeth, an answer must be found for the question of the third murderer. Here something unusual and interesting is done. The third murderer seems to be one of the witches, and not only lets Fleance escape, but even aids him. It’s interesting, because we are left with the thought that the witches might be helping their own prophecy come true, which actually removes a bit of the supernatural aspect from the events. Yet right after that, the three witches stand around Banquo until he rises as if bidden by them, an incredible image. Also interesting is how this production handles the ghost of Banquo. Some productions have him physically present, while others have him as merely within Macbeth’s mind. This production does both. When the ghost of Banquo first enters, he does so with purpose and moves straight down to the table, but does not sit. In fact, he ends up standing on the table. So Lady Macbeth’s “You look but upon a stool” doesn’t quite work. But the next time the ghost enters, it is seen only by Macbeth, not the audience. Once the others have left, Macbeth sits on the bench, and Lady Macbeth sits next to him. At first the two are facing away from each other, but soon they are as one again, and Lady Macbeth wraps her hands around his arm. Even this episode is not enough to tear these two apart. And again, we feel for them.

Another of this production’s great strengths, as you’ve probably picked up by now, is the way the weird sisters are presented. That is especially the case in the “Double, double, toil and trouble” scene. A circle of light surrounds the cauldron, and percussion off stage helps give their action the feel of a dance. When Macbeth rushes in, the percussion continues, so it is like he enters their dance. It isn’t until he enters the circle that the drumming stops, for now he has taken some charge of the scene. Macbeth drinks from the cauldron, and it is perhaps that which aids in his visions. The apparitions are done as voices, seeming to take possession of the three weird sisters and drain them of energy. It’s a wild and exciting way of presenting this scene. The witches exit before Macbeth sees the parade of kings, which seems to be all around him. This is an incredibly powerful scene, and it is followed by another. Lady Macduff’s child is female in this production, and Ross (Ned Mochel) delivers his “pretty cousin” to her, giving the girl a kiss before leaving. Mochel is particularly good here, and then Mildred Marie Langford is fantastic when the men arrive to murder her family. She fights back, which is great. It is not an easy scene.

Much of the scene between Macduff and Malcolm is cut, that whole section where Malcolm tests Macduff to make sure he has not been sent by Macbeth. It is a strange cut, but it does keep things moving, for now the pace of events picks up and will not slacken until the end. On Macduff’s “All my pretty ones? Did you say all,” he grabs Ross, a nice moment. This production sets this scene inside a church, so Macduff’s “Did heaven look on,/And would not take their part?” is a question to his god as well as to Malcolm and Ross. Julanne Chidi Hill does an incredible job in the sleepwalking scene, which has a haunting vibe in this production. Another thing that is interesting is that we in the audience feel for the poor doctor, who first witnesses the queen in such a state and then the king soon afterward. In his expression we see the troubled aspect of the country. When Macbeth asks him, “Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d?” we get the feeling he might mean himself as well as his wife, which is great. Is he then aware of his own disease, his own failing? The fight between Macbeth and Macduff is handled really well, and is not quick. Macbeth’s “Lay on, Macduff” line is actually delivered after Macduff has dealt the killing strike, which is fascinating. This production does not bother with a severed head prop, instead letting the crown itself suffice, itself holding the promise of a better tomorrow.

This production of Macbeth runs through March 9, 2025. Visit the theatre’s website for the complete schedule. There is one intermission, which comes at the end of Act III Scene iii. A Noise Within is located at 3352 E. Foothill Blvd. in Pasadena, California. Free parking is located at the Sierra Madre Villa Metro Parking Structure.

Shakespeare Reference in Go Pop Annual 1968

Go Pop Annual 1968, a book about the music scene published in May 1968, contains one Shakespeare reference. In a chapter titled “The Future Promise That England Holds,” written by Debbi Smith, there is a reference to The Merchant Of Venice: “It costs many bands a pound of flesh to cart their equipment, too, and when you have light men and lights into the bargain, it’s almost cheaper to forget about the money from a hit” (p. 69). No, it’s not the most well-written book. But, anyway, that is a reference to Shylock’s bond with Antonio.

Shakespeare Reference in The Red Sox Fan’s Little Book Of Wisdom

Curt Smith’s The Red Sox Fan’s Little Book Of Wisdom: A Fine Sense Of The Ridiculous contains one Shakespeare reference. Each page has its own playful title, and one of those titles is “The fault lies in ourselves, not our stars” (p. 19). That refers to Cassius’ speech to Brutus in Act I Scene ii of Julius Caesar, where he says, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”

The Red Sox Fan’s Little Book Of Wisdom: A Fine Sense Of The Ridiculous was first published in 1994. My copy is the Second Edition, published in 2002.

Shakespeare References in A Woman Of Substance

Barbara Taylor Bradford’s novel A Woman Of Substance contains several Shakespeare references. The first is a reference to Hamlet. Barbara Taylor Bradford writes, “Now he faced it, recognizing that at times she had been like mad Ophelia, wandering dazedly around the upstairs corridors in bewilderment, a glazed expression on her face, her hair in disarray, the floating chiffon peignoir she favored enveloping her like a nimbus” (p. 156). The next is to The Second Part Of King Henry The Sixth, with Bradford writing, “‘Aye, dead as a doornail,’ Murgatroyd muttered tersely, his darkening face revealing his distress, which was most genuine” (p. 303). The phrase “dead as a doornail” was used by the character Jack Cade, who in the fourth act says, “Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days, yet come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more.”

The book is divided into several sections, each one beginning with a quoted passage. The third part begins with these lines from Julius Caesar: “‘Tis a common proof,/That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder,/Whereto the climber-upward turns his face” (p. 373). Brutus speaks those word in the first scene of the second act. There is also a reference to The Merchant Of Venice: “The Fairleys had had their pound of flesh and the uniforms certainly wouldn’t fit the bovine Annie” (p. 421). The next is a reference to Shakespeare himself: “He ought to be exposed to literature, such as the plays of Shakespeare, the novels of Dickens, Trollope, and Thackeray, philosophical works and histories” (pages 480-481). The final reference is to The Third Part Of King Henry The Sixth. Barbara Taylor Bradford writes: “He grinned and touched the tip of her nose playfully. ‘O tiger’s heart wrapp’d in a woman’s hide!” (p. 633). That very line, “O, tiger’s heart wrapp’d in a woman’s hide,” was used in the earliest known criticism of Shakespeare, part of which reads, “an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger’s heart wrapped in a player’s hide,” playing on Shakespeare’s line. The line is spoken by York to Queen Margaret. Barbara Taylor Bradford continues, having the character admit: “Stolen from Shakespeare, I must confess. Henry VI” (p. 633).

A Woman Of Substance was published in 1979. The First Avon Printing was in May, 1980. I think the copy I read was from 1984.