Pigs Eye Theatre - Twelfth Night: 'Twelfth Night' is a romp made for actors

Twelfth Night By William Shakespeare	Directed by Matt Sciple
January 17 - February 1, 2003 at Cedar Riverside People's Center

'Twelfth Night' is a romp made for actors

by Graydon Royce
Minneapolis Star Tribune

January 20th, 2003

Director Matt Sciple gets serious about comedy in his staging of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" for Pigs Eye Theatre. The production, which opened Friday at the Cedar Riverside People's Center, romps through this frothy conceit of separated twins, concealed identities and idle-rich high jinks with an eye for one thing: Will it get laughs?

Sciple's approach might not endear him to serious theatergoers in search of a unified vision that serves as a prism through which to view this piece. The director has worried less about creating that homogenous universe than he has about freeing his actors to push the limits of character and construct whatever personality seems to animate the language.

In Shakespeare's story, Viola is shipwrecked and washes up in Illyria. She disguises herself as a man, finds work as Orsino's page and delivers his love notes to the countess Olivia. A love triangle develops as Olivia becomes fond of the disguised Viola, and Viola falls for Orsino. Eventually, Viola's twin brother, Sebastian -- who she thought had drowned in the shipwreck -- arrives and everyone gets a partner. Equally prominent to this plot is the tale of Olivia's court, where Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, the maid Maria and the clown Feste torment the pompous Malvolio.

Sciple's choice to give his actors free rein is wise. Relationships seem crisper, and the strongly articulated characters coax refreshing clarity from the text. Edwin Strout's Sir Andrew is a perfect example. This besotted fop is so thoroughly envisioned that his vocal delivery seems to begin deep inside the actor's brain, forming just the right inflections, tone and mood. As Malvolio, Craig Johnson prances about unself-consciously in a style that allows him to retain a patina of humorlessness even as he appears funny. He gets people to laugh at him, not with him. Kate Eifrig's Maria and Karen Wiese-Thompson's Sir Toby shimmer with menace.

The timing is brisk, and the show is physically adept. There are nice performance moments, such as when Sam L. Landman's Feste adopts a Tom Waits voice and style to serenade Orsino and Viola/Cesario. Later, though, Landman seems a bit too fond of the laughter, and his humor starts to exist for its own sake, not to serve the play.

Some of the slapstick starts to run out of steam deep in the second act when what seemed fresh and clever wears out its welcome. It is then that questions dart into the mind about whether this burlesque has allowed the work to blossom or has overwhelmed it. In the balance, Sciple's approach is a good thing, but a slightly tighter rein might be something to consider.

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