Reviewing Twelfth Night
I've been fortunate to catch three Swan Repertory Theatre shows this season, the first full volume of productions for the company owned by Marc Whitmore and Jeff Jenkins. It's been quite the evolution from the minimally designed, difficult-to-hear performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream in Jordan Valley Park (just last August) to this current play, Twelfth Night, a lush, textured show with an opening shipwreck scene that literally shook me (thanks to the subwoofers under the risers). The quality of the actors—almost entirely local talent—has always been consistent.
If you haven't been to the Skinny Improv Comedy Theatre in a while, you won't recognize it. The four-level, black risers aren't new, but the comfy chairs in the center are. Also new is the hardwood stage (we hear it will stay even after the rest of Twelfth Night's stage is taken down), which should make a richer setting for the regular Skinny shows and the Mystery Hour talk show. The lighting is good, the sound is better, and there's not a bad seat in the house—though we do suggest getting there as early as possible to get one of the padded, armed seats in the middle. The central seating will also help you avoid neck fatigue from constantly turning your head—I was on the far stage-right end of the third row, and had a crick from watching the action bounce from one side of the stage to another. You're that close to the actors.
Twelfth Night is classical Shakespeare (as if there were any other kind). It's the story of Viola (Jennifer Eiffert), a shipwrecked woman who, with the help of a nefarious captain (Jeff Jenkins), is disguised as a man and sent to the court of Duke Orsino (Bryan Moses) for reasons either undisclosed or too muddled in Shakespearian flowery-talk to understand (I actually think it has to do with Viola's brother, who they believe dead in the wreck). Indeed, I've found that the first scene or two of any Shakespeare performance are difficult to understand. Even in the most capable of hands the phrasing and cadence take some getting used to. Though it might have been my ears, on this night Eiffert seemed to rush her lines a bit early on, though it's understandable; if actors took their time with Shakespeare, the plays would all be four and a half hours long.
The play progresses in typical Shakespearean fashion. The now cross-dressed Viola falls for Orsino, who dispatches Viola to the home of Olivia (Power 96.5's Dawn McClain) with hopes of convincing the widow to be his bride. McClain was actually a theatre major, and though she doesn't yet have a ton of roles to her credit, she's a delight here as the kookiest Widow you'll ever want to meet. Kooky? Yes. Because, of course, she is snapped out of her grieving when she falls for for Orsino's messenger, Viola (who, we repeat, is a woman in drag).
That's the main storyline, which is eventually sorted out in one of Shakespeare's more gleeful (if drawn-out) final acts. In between are the comings and goings of some of The Bard's most colorful supporting characters. Of note:
• Sir Toby Belch (Heath Hillhouse): Full disclosure: I would pay $16 to watch Hillhouse read a phone book. This is the third time in as many shows that he has wowed me (including his turn as the Ghost of Christmas Past in A Christmas Carol). Here he's a drunken, lecherous riot as Olivia's n'er-do-well uncle. He pulls the strings on the servents (literally in the maid's case), his neice and even the sage court jester; and even though he does get his comeuppance he, too has a happy ending.
• Feste the Clown (Ran Cummings): Shakespeare students will recognize Feste, aka The Fool, as the show's one constant. He turns up in almost every scene, even if he's just sleeping. Ran—lead singer of downtown mainstay The Dirty Blondes—has a very nice non-rock singing voice. The Fool also serves as de facto narrator, and provides the opening and closing of the show. If Toby is the show's heart, then Feste is its brain.
• Malvolio (Nathan Shelton): The token tool, Malvolio is tricked by Toby and friends into thinking Olivia is falling for him, and his ensuing yellow-gartered, grinning prance is one of the show's best moments. He is, of course, taken as a loon and committed. Shelton is, as always, bravura (and deserves equal credit as the artistic director for Swan Rep), though the asylum scenes late in the production tend to drag, when all we want to see is more Toby and some long-awaited kissing. We'll be sure to take that quarrel up with Shakespeare when next we meet.
I wish I could keep doling out kudos, but I don't have the room (even on the Internet!). Jordan Fox, Jason Goff, Bethany Ziskind (another Springfield rock-scene vet) and Adam Hoelscher all brought smiles to my face. And the scenes between Eiffert and McClain, when the air is practically dripping with sapphic Shakespearean slapstick, are toned perfectly—they're uncomfortable without slipping into the squirm-inducing. Well played by all.
The final shout should go to director Marc Whitmore, the LA production guru who helped Jenkins (listed as producer) start the Swan Rep. It is (as far as we know) his first directing go-round here, and he incorporates some devices I hadn't seen used before, including some lightning-quick scene changes and a bench at the back of the stage—totally visible—where characters sit, even when their parts aren't called for. It's not as distracting as it might seem; it's actually entertaining to watch Dawn McClain crack up right there on stage when the drunkards are doing one pratfall or another. It doesn't break down the actor's "fourth wall," it instead invites the audience inside of it.
One heads-up: This show is a little long; I saw it listed somewhere as two hours, but it's closer to two-and-a-half, including a 15-minute intermission. That's certainly not a complaint—the quality makes it worth it—just a warning to use the bathroom when you can.
In all, this is a must-see performance. We can't wait to see what the Swan Rep does next.
Matt Lemmon, web editor
Twelfth Night finishes its run this weekend, with performances at 7:30 p.m. on both Friday and Saturday night. Tickets are $16-$18, with a $9 student rush 30 minutes before the show. The Skinny Improv Comedy Theatre is located at 301 Park Central East in downtown Springfield. For more, go to swanrep.com or call 417-831-7926.
