More than a stodgy Malvolio donning cross-gartered, yellow stockings is needed to keep Shakespeare fresh. With all due respect to the wordsmith of the Western world, the Arden Theatre Company does justice to his script in their '50s doo-wop production of Twelfth Night. A billboard-sized postcard, stretched across the exterior of Olivia's abode, pictures classical architecture foregrounded by a bathing beauty complete with a pink swimming cap. This ad clues us into the fact that Shakespeare's Illyria has been transformed into a seaside tourist town past its prime. With the tourists off exploring Italy's other exploits, Sir Toby and his cronies are free to have their run of the place, setting plots, inciting duels, drinking past midnight and breaking into rambunctious melodies. Adding to the disorder is Viola, Sebastian's cross-dressing twin sister, who poses as Duke Orsino's right hand man. Finding his inspiration in Orsino's opening lines, "If music be the food of love play on," the jukebox is a constant accessory in director Whit MacLaughlin's production. Although Orsino's, played by Patrick Brinker, lovesick musing over Frank Sinatra's "Chances Are" is less than beliveable, the production's emphasis on music makes the play's Elizabethan era music come alive. With Feste, Olivia's in-house clown, crooning the closing melody, Shakespeare's songs sound as though they were always meant to be sung Buddy Holly-style.
Regardless of the updates, Twelfth Night hasn't really changed. Once the stage is set with Olivia's resort exterior and adjacent bar with al fresco tables, all attention remains focused on the players. Sir Toby and Feste are just as mismatched and threadbare as ever, while Sir Andrew Aguecheek gets a Eurotrash makeover complete with a lime green shirt and red scooter. Always a playful but problematic comedy, Maclaughlin's Twelfth Night does not shy away from the script's disturbing points but boldly depicts them. Duped by Maria and Sir Toby, Malvolio is made to look crazy and ends up in a madhouse. Wheeled out in a beat-up dumpster, symbolizing his asylum cell, Malvolio is once again the butt of the joke when Feste poses as the local priest. Cruelly tormented despite being inhumanly trapped in a dumpster-sized cell, it seems like the joke has gone too far. Unlike your typical high school production that performs Shakespeare straight with a dash of a puffy dresses and the crack of Romeo's voice, MacLaughlin makes all the right changes. With a strong cast, a Frankie Valli twang and creative twist, the Arden Theatre does Shakespeare's lively tale of cross-dressing and gender-bending proud.
