CommentsGELFAND’S WORLD--The title to Shakespeare's Twelfth Night doesn't refer to anything in the play, but rather to the fact that it was written to be performed on the twelfth night of Christmas, a festive time in England as the seventeenth century began.
In a new San Pedro production at the ECT, director Aaron Ganz has opened his version of the play essentially as light opera or Broadway musical. In the first scene, the cast depicts the crew of a ship in a terrible storm, dancing and rolling acrobatically to a musical score. Viola and the captain of the ship are washed ashore and thus begins the story, which gradually develops into a tale of unrequited love, then into slapstick comedy, and finally into a grand reveal and (can we call it this?) requited love.
Those who are familiar with the play will recall that Viola and Sebastian are twins, brother and sister, who are in that shipwreck on the coast of Illyria. The play begins with Viola and the ship's captain as apparent lone survivors, uncertain of Sebastian's fate, but assuming he is drowned. Now on her own, Viola finds a position in the court of the local nobleman Orsino, but to do so, she disguises herself as a male. In the text, she is described by another character as neither boy nor full grown man, but appearing to be in between.
It sounds a little complicated, but that's Shakespeare, and it works.
This being a Shakespearian comedy, there is of course a love triangle. Viola falls in love with her boss, the Duke Orsino, but in turn, Orsino is smitten with Lady Olivia. Also in Shakespearian fashion, Orsino sends Viola (pretending to be the teenage boy Cesario) to woo Lady Olivia on his behalf. To complete the triangle and drive much of the action, Olivia then falls head over heals for Cesario, who is really Viola.
Enough about the plot, because it doesn't matter all that much. There is a subplot which is the part that is best remembered by most viewers -- the aid to Lady Olivia is a stuffed shirt named Malvolio. He is tricked into believing that his mistress is secretly in love with him and is leaving him letters to clue him in. It's a trick, but he falls for it. He is told to put on yellow stockings and "cross garters" and he does. This provides the comic relief during the midsection of the play.
Malvolio is a role which allows actors to ham it up outrageously, and has been taken up by several of the greatest actors in England. Viola (although she never speaks her actual name until the final scene) -- has been played by numerous great actresses. Judy Dench was popular in this role at the Royal Shakespeare in 1969.
Viola's past interpreters present a rather high bar for the new actress. It was therefore a pleasure to see a strong performance by Alden Truesdale in the ECT production. She was by parts dutiful, comedic, and stalwart, but mainly she was believable. In a role like this, the actress has to thread the needle between getting too shrill vs. making the character boring. In conversation, she allowed as how the decision to somewhat underplay the role was made consciously. No scenery chewing here, as the audience needs to build its identification with her over the course of the play. By the time we get to the grand reveal, it is a truly theatrical moment.
There are a couple of clownish parts in the role of Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Agucheek. Toby is an amiable drunkard who is living on the charity of his niece, Lady Olivia, and to put it mildly, trying her patience. Murilo Franco plays the role of Sir Toby with an abundance of energy and (appropriate to this part) a good deal of scenery chewing. He gets to use some of his Italian, firing off words in rapid fire.
In another comedic subplot, Sir Toby and his coconspirators convince Sir Andrew and Cesario that they have to fight a duel. Since Cesario is actually a lady and Sir Andrew is a coward, hilarity ensues. This being immersive theater, the characters chase each other through and around the audience seating, start throwing seat cushions at each other (taken, I might add, from behind audience members), and otherwise provoke fits of laughter from the crowd.
This being a Ganz/ECT/immersive production, there had to be a Keystone Cops version of the police, referred to by Shakespeare as The Watch. The four of them, played by Janet Rodriguez, Cari Quigley, Margaret Kelly, and Sydney Skidmore run around and over furniture and each other, swinging their batons, and sporting bowler hats like they had stepped off the silent movie screen, all the while accompanied by a rakish Calliope kind of sound.
All in all, a fun performance that broke some of the rules and lived up to the important ones. One interesting find: Tessa Philips as the sea captain and the play's narrator. Philips is waiflike and pretty, and has an entertaining singing style. She reminds me in a way of some of the female investigators who populated the original CSI cast, so it will be interesting to see where her career goes.
Three more performances next weekend.
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Revealing a state secret?
Trump's latest shenanigan is to call John Brennan "the worst CIA Director in our country's history . . . "
This may or may not be true, but if it is true, then isn't Trump's statement the equivalent of providing important information to our nation's enemies? If nothing else, it signals a lack of resolve on our part to continue policies associated with Brennan, just as Trump has attempted to repudiate Obama policies. Presidents ordinarily keep their intelligence successes and failures close to the vest. As usual, Trump signals that he views his personal ego fulfillment above his duty to national security.
Does he even know what the rules are?
When the meeting at Trump Tower was just starting to be revealed, the story was floated (it turns out by D Trump himself) that it was just about adoption. As more evidence oozed its way to the surface, the story gradually transmuted. By now, it is admitted by DJT that the meeting was directly about getting dirt on Hillary Clinton. But now, the argument is that this was perfectly legal. I wonder if Trump's reflexive lying is (at least in part) because he doesn't actually know all that much about the law and can't be bothered to learn. So he imagines what might be illegal and denies it. Then, because he doesn't exactly have a photographic memory of what he said, he gets pushed into the next round of admissions. Interestingly, his admissions tend to be wrapped around portraying himself as tough and leaderly, but they make it clear that he is quite the opposite.
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So I was thinking
So have you noticed this new trend whereby people on the radio and in conversations start sentences with the word "So"? So that's what I noticed on a recent NPR interview. The interviewee would be asked a question, and each answer would begin that way. It's a modern incarnation of valley speak -- not real valley speak, but the Moon Zappa version. All these people were instructed not to start a sentence with "um," so instead they say So. What will they answer if handed a needle and thread and asked what they will do with it?
(Bob Gelfand writes on science, culture, and politics for CityWatch. He can be reached at [email protected])
-cw
