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Theatre in Review: Twelfth Night (The Public Theater at the Delacorte Theater)

Nikki M. Kames and the Blue community ensemble. Photo: Joan Marcus

Nobody sings "Hey, ho, the wind and the rain" in this Twelfth Night, although on Friday night, when I attended, the words would have been all too appropriate. The first half of the production was marked by on-and-off drizzle; then, as the plot was heating up, the heavens opened, and a pause was ordered. Several minutes later, we were back in our seats and the precipitation returned, building through the production's last half hour until everyone was thoroughly soaked. But here's the thing: Except for a tiny handful of the waterlogged, virtually no one fled the Delacorte. Making a rough estimate, I would say ninety-eight percent of the audience hung on until the end. And why not? They were having a marvelous time. The bursts of lightning in the sky only added a touch of excitement.

This Twelfth Night, which was also staged by The Public in 2016, is a musical version, adapted by Kwame Kwei-Armah and Shaina Taub, with music and lyrics by Taub; Shakespeare's unruly romantic farce is expertly trimmed down to a fast, funny, touching ninety minutes. It is set, more or less, in an Illyria that is a fantasy version of New Orleans' French Quarter, and, right off the bat, we meet Olivia -- who prefers mourning her late brother to being wooed by any living swain -- leading a jazz funeral. In the spirit of a play that continually ribs the ulterior and the pretentious, this scene leads directly into the buoyant opening number, "Play On." It's a nearly ideal juxtaposition that sets the stage for all that follows.

In a first indication of the seamlessness of Kwei-Armah and Oskar Eustis' staging, the raucous crowd performing this number parts to reveal the storm-tossed Olivia, who, having survived a shipwreck, appears drenched and in a state of wonderment. From here on in, Taub's songs effortlessly condense the action, revealing complicated emotional states and knotty plot points with ease. You remember the basic situation: Viola, disguised as a boy, goes to work for Orsino, whom she loves, pleading his case with Olivia, whom he loves, unrequitedly, and it's all futile because Olivia loves Viola, whom she thinks is a boy. Taub adds to its poignancy with a ballad in which Orsino puts all his trust in "Cesario" (Viola's male name), singing "I want you/I need you," thus driving Viola to distraction. (This song also neatly establishes the idea that, without really understanding why, Orsino is attracted to "Cesario.") This is followed by "If You Were My Beloved," which begins with Viola/Cesario pressing Orsino's case, but expands to become a trio about yearning and unfulfillment. Taub also sprinkles the action with a recurring number, "Word on the Street," in which the citizens of Illyria gossip freely about what's going on, thus keeping us up to date on the latest plot gyrations.

Much of Taub's music is written in a jazz-funk mode with a Dixieland veneer, and she also showcases her abilities in a classic Broadway-style comedy number, "Count Malvolio," which features Olivia's pretentious steward envisioning how he will marry his way into the aristocracy by winning his mistress' hand. The song grows in grandiosity from verse to verse, until it becomes a full-stage showstopper backed by the entire company. With fun like this on hand, what's a little inclement weather?

The cast is full of attractive and accomplished people, starting with Nikki M. James, who slyly underplays Viola for sophisticated laughs. (The look that she gives Orsino when he sings of his need for "Cesario" would slay a legion; a second later, trapped in a manly hug with him, her head rests poignantly on his shoulder.) Her yearning for her absent sibling, Sebastian, is palpable, and she makes the most of one of the play's central ironies -- that only by using her memories of him to impersonate a man does she finally come to understand herself. Of course, she sings beautifully, most notably in "Viola's Soliloquy," in which she tries to puzzle out the insane situation in which she finds herself.

There are many other pleasures to be had: Ato Blankson-Wood is sleek and in great voice as Orsino. Shuler Hensley, clad in clashing patterns and roaring out his dissatisfaction with the universe, is a fine Toby Belch, Olivia's cousin and perpetual albatross. Nanya-Akuki Goodrich's Olivia is passion's plaything, whether carrying on for her lost brother, strenuously dispensing dollops of charm on Viola/Cesario, or making a lunge for Sebastian, Viola's twin. Lori Brown-Niang is brisk and businesslike as Maria, Toby's henchwoman, who plots Malvolio's humiliation. Troy Anthony is dashing as Sebastian, who, unware that his sister is running about dressed just like him, can't quite understand why Olivia so willingly pulls him into her bed. Taub herself is on hand as Feste, handing out worldly wisdom to Olivia, leading the numbers, and generally helping to move the plot along. As Malvolio, Andrew Kober oozes a supercilious manner -- more than once I thought of Vincent Price -- that makes all the more delicious his downfall, during which he is duped into appearing "cross-gartered," here depicted as some fashion designer's high-concept nightmare of trendy leisurewear.

The production is loaded with delightful bits of business. Instead of having Malvolio accidentally discover the forged letter that leads him to think Olivia loves him, the missive is delivered to him by a notably surly mailman. When Malvolio, having alarmed Olivia with his advances, is imprisoned, he is confined to a portable toilet that is hauled to center stage, where it falls apart. The "duel" -- a fake fight between a gulled Viola (as Cesario) and Sir Andrew, one of Toby's cronies (a slightly underpowered Daniel Hall) -- climaxes with a gag involving misdirected archery and the notorious racoon that prowls the Delacorte.

There's an additional source of joy: This production, which was first staged in 2016, is part of the company's Public Works program, an initiative that involves various community groups in training for performance. They include the Brownsville Recreation Center, the Center for Family Life in Sunset Park, The Fortune Society, and Domestic Workers United, among others. These participants, most of them young people, form the production's chorus. (There are two community ensembles, which perform on alternate nights.) At the top of the evening, Taub introduces the organizations involved and notes that those participating include all sorts, including some members of the deaf community. Everyone has been thoroughly drilled and they appear to be having a ball.

This tremendously inclusive approach extends to the decision not to ban Malvolio from the action, as Shakespeare does, instead working out amusing solutions for him and Antonio, the sea captain who aids Sebastian and with whom, in this production, he is frankly in love. There is room for everybody in the festive finale.

The production looks good: Rachel Hauck's set is dominated by Olivia's Empire-style castle, and it is illuminated by John Torres' lively, colorful lighting. Andrea Hood's costumes constitute an attractive melange of contemporary styles. Jessica Paz's sound design is among the clearest and most transparent I have experienced in the Delacorte recently.

Seeing this Twelfth Night, I was irresistibly transported back to my teenage years, when I saw the national tour of Two Gentlemen of Verona, the John Guare/Galt MacDermot musical, which was originally staged at the Delacorte. I was thrilled with that production's vision of Verona as a modern city filled with characters of all races. Decades later, it is immeasurably rewarding to see The Public Theater guarding -- and expanding -- that vision. As the final song reminds us, "Hear through the ears of somebody else/If we open our hearts to each other's beat/What a better world it could be." Such sentiments, wedded to an irresistible sense of fun, make this version of Illyria seem like an earthly paradise. -- David Barbour


(31 July 2018)

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