The Stage

Twelfth Night

Published Thursday 22 October 2009 at 11:50 by Susan Elkin

Gregory Doran’s Illyia is an exotic Turkish land of hookahs, carpets, cushions, carpets, orthodox priests, bazaars, vibrant live folk music and west meets east in which he places the mercurial melancholy which underpins this strange play - one of Shakespeare’s funniest and in Doran’s hands also one of his saddest.

Richard McCabe (Sir Toby Belch) and James Fleet (Sir Andrew Aguecheek) in Twelfth Night at the Courtyard Theatre Photo: Ellie Kurttz

The theatrically charismatic, all dancing, all singing, athletic Miltos Yerolemou achieves aching poignancy as well as being suitably funny as Feste. Richard McCabe’s farting Sir Toby gets the right blend of outrageousness and vulnerability, especially in the scenes with James Fleet’s absurdly louche Sir Andrew Aguecheek.

Nancy Carroll’s warm-voiced, often troubled but passionate Viola is a joy, as are Pamela Nomvete’s sturdy, feisty Maria and Alexandra Gilbreath’s Olivia, which combines imperiousness with lust to enjoyable comic effect. And Jo Stone-Fewings actually makes the humourless, self-obsessed Orsino seem attractive, which is quite a feat.

And so to Richard Wilson, who gives us a powerfully disturbing Malvolio, hilarious at times - especially in those almost obscene, trouserless cross-gartered yellow stockings under his robe, and that grimace which passes for a smile - but primarily a haunting portrayal of a man ‘most notoriously abused’, whose erotic fantasies and tiresome but harmless pomposity eventually leave his life in ruins. Never has a Malvolio moved me quite so much. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting from Wilson, but by golly, it’s a good performance.

Doran’s well-honed gift for making Shakespeare accessible without resorting to gimmickry ensures that this production is both punchy and traditional - in the best sense.