Twelfth Night (review)

It probably seems obvious to say that a Russian-language production of Twelfth Night foregrounds issues of translation. In this inventive, surprisingly entertaining version, directed by Declan Donnellan, designed by Nick Ormerod for the Chekhov International Theatre Festival, and imported to the Brooklyn Academy of Music's Harvey Theatre in November 2006, Shakespeare's text underwent not only a translation into Russian, but also a translation back into English for the above-stage titles. Yet even before a word of this doubly translated text was spoken or seen, the players engaged in the act of translating bodies. Entering the bare stage all identically dressed in black pants, white shirts, and black suspenders, the actors pushed forward a slightly resistant Andrey Kuzichev, who looked not a little surprised to find himself being wrapped in a skirt and transformed into an alluring Viola. As in Propeller's production of the play, no attempt at verisimilitude was made: gender transformation was accomplished exclusively through clothing and without the use of wigs or prostheses. By entirely avoiding a drag queen aesthetic, this production was more convincing than Propeller's in its portrayal of femininity: the bodies of the actors disappeared behind the costume and the role. I found myself frequently forgetting that Alexey Dadonov's elegant Olivia, and Kuzichev's Viola, later re-dressed as a man and going by the name of Cesario, weren't actually women. Rather than being actively hit with the double-awareness Blume spoke of, a characteristic I found distracting in Propeller's version, I was forced to remind myself of its existence.

In fact, queen-y behavior on stage came not from the men playing women, but from Feste (Igor Yasulovich). A rouged queen in sartorial harlequin, Feste seemed a cross between Beverley Leslie's aging homosexual on Will and Grace and Joel Grey's Emcee in Cabaret, complete with cabaret-style songs. But Feste was not the sole point of interaction between the play and contemporary gay culture. This was a production that foregrounded homoerotic desire but managed to avoid easy stereotypes or cheap jokes. Nor were the instances of homoeroticism the ones that might be expected: the attachment Olivia feels for Viola-cum-Cesario is of course underscored with the understanding that two men are playing the roles, but Donnellan steered the production away from gay panic and into more strongly emotional territory. Antonio (Mikhail Zhigalov) was clearly very much in love with Sebastian (Sergey Mukhin), an attachment that amounts to very little once Sebastian has married Olivia. But the fact of his desire was not only recognized, it was incorporated into the play's resolution. As the various members of the love quadrangle begin to tease out who has tricked whom, who is married to whom, and who wishes to marry whom, Olivia, Viola, Sebastian, and Orsino (a delightfully urbane Vladimir Vdovichenkov) circled around each other while the rest of the cast watched on. Orsino, pasting on one of his ever-ready smiles, patched things up by calling for music, bossa nova supplied by instrument-toting members of the cast, and the unpartnered and sexually-other Antonio was incorporated into the dancing by joining Feste.

The translations and transformations went beyond language and bodies to the production itself. Before intermission—inserted just prior to the scene in which Maria, Feste, and Sir Toby plant the letter for Malvolio to find—the production was black, from the mood to the costumes and the hanging fabric panels that denoted space in much more concrete and consistent ways that Propeller's mass of movable furniture. The first half of the play, this production seemed to argue, is essentially bleak. After all, Viola believes she has lost her brother, Olivia has lost her brother, and Orsino seems unlikely ever to win the woman he loves. But the production transformed during intermission: the fabric panels were still black, but the costumes changed to warm whites, creams, and golds for the escalation of the comedy of misunderstandings. The only misstep was a staging choice I would see virtually replicated...