First transmitted 6th January 1980
 |
Alec McCowen is fooled and bamboozled by some comic pranksters |
Cast:
Felicity Kendal (Viola), Alec McCowen (Malvolio), Robert Hardy (Sir Toby
Belch), Sinead Cusack (Olivia), Annette Crosbie (Maria), Trevor Peacock
(Feste), Clive Arrindell (Orsino), Ronnie Stevens (Sir Andrew Aguecheek),
Robert Lindsay (Fabian), Maurice Roeves (Antonio), Michael Thomas (Sebastian),
Malcolm Reynolds (Valentine), Ryan Michael (Curio), Ric Morgan (Captain),
Arthur Hewlett (Priest)
Director: John Gorrie
After
what seems like a long journey through British history in the last few plays of
the series, it was a bit of a relief to finally get a bit of a respite with
another genre of Shakespeare: a comedy. Now the last comedy I watched in this
series was As You Like It, which,
loyal followers of this blog will know, was surely one of the worst things
committed to film by the BBC. Twelfth
Night is undoubtedly far superior to that (hurrah!). But it falls into the
difficulties that the vast majority of Shakespeare comedies I have seen on film
fall into. It is simply not that funny.
Shakespearean
comedy is highly theatrical in its nature. It’s built around having that
immediate connection with the audience. The jokes feed off the actors being
there in the room with you, from having that shared experience of other people
laughing alongside you to be truly successful. It’s not just Shakespeare of
course – how many modern stage comedies have been translated to screen only to
be met with stony silence from audiences? The films of Noises Off and A Chorus of
Disapproval spring straight to mind as examples. (There were films of those
you say? Yes there were and thanks for proving my point.)
This
is why so many television comedies (from sitcoms to panel shows) have laughter
tracks or are recorded before a live studio audience. People are more comfortable
letting go and laughing if they feel it is part of a communal experience.
Performers in turn feed off that energy, taker greater risks, become less
self-conscious and (hopefully) more funny. Try and imagine creating that
atmosphere in your performance on a cold Tuesday evening in a TV studio
surrounded by technicians and clock-watching union officials (as these films
would have been). Hardly conducive to side-splitting entertainment is it?
Well
anyway, that’s a general point that probably applies to every comedy I’m going
to watch in this series. Shakespeare drama translates better to film: it’s more
intense, more, for want of a better word, dramatic. That shouldn’t detract from
the fine, clever little drama John Gorrie has created here in his inaugural
effort for the series. This Twelfth Night
is set in an autumnal 17th-century setting, with echoes of the
English Civil War in both dress and styling and in the portrayal of Malvolio’s
puritanism. The house is a triumph of production design, with Gorrie’s
intention of creating a clear ‘geography’ to the house and its rooms very
successful. There are splashes of inspiration from Rembrandt in the lighting
and design in places. Even the house exteriors look convincing (which is more
than can be said for the painfully artificial beach in A1 S2). It all serves to
place McCowen’s firm and softly-spoken Malvolio as prototype parliamentian,
while Orsino contrasts as a clichéd layabout royalist (and a nod of the hat to
Gorrie for sneaking the setting beyond the ‘Messina rules’ of nothing past the
1610s).
The
sexuality of the play also gets some interesting exploration here. Most clearly,
Antonio’s homosexuality is played very openly and clearly (and with a great
deal of emotion in Maurice Roeve’s sensitive performance, a real highlight)
with it gently accepted by Sebastian, although there is no hint of
reciprocation. But Gorrie also allows a suggestion of underlying attraction for
Olivia from Viola (her breathless reaction when Olivia reveals her face of “most
fine”), which puts in context slightly her gentle reaction to her throughout
the play. Similarly in A2 S4 Orsino displays an almost flirty sensuality
towards Viola/Cesario, which again allows his fury towards her when he assumes
she has betrayed him in A5 S1 to have a greater edge to it.
Sex
is clearly very prominent in the house. Belch and Maria are all over each other
like a pair of horny teenagers. Olivia’s increasingly colourful and shapely
dresses from scene to scene demonstrate clearly her growing fascination with
Cesario. Sebastian can’t believe his luck when he arrives – and is quite happy
to enjoy Olivia’s attentions once they are thrust upon him (so to speak). Even
Malvolio is reduced to a giggly, bouncing mess from sexual excitement at the thought
of claiming Olivia for his own (and when he encounters her in A3 S4 she clearly
recognises exactly what he is feeling and is slightly panicked at it). It’s a
very nice undertone to the production.
Perhaps
part of this strange sexual buzz is related to the fact that Kendal’s Cesario
looks literally nothing like a man.
I’ve genuinely never seen a less convincing drag-act since Lt. George in Blackadder. Still clearly wearing
eye-shadow and make-up and with flowing feminine hair, surely no-one in their right
mind could ever believe her to be a man, for all the masculine posing she takes
on. I can’t decide if this is a big problem or not. It probably wouldn’t be in
the theatre with the suspension of disbelief but it works slightly less here.
Attempts to give Sebastian a bouffant haircut, don’t change the fact that they
don’t really look like each other that much. It’s a problem that Trevor Nunn’s Twelfth Night film tackled much more
effectively. That issue aside, Kendal’s performance is fine-spoken with a dollop
of humanity and tenderness (both for Olivia and for Orsino) as well as
sympathy. But it’s a slightly flat performance. I think what it doesn’t really
sell is either a real intelligence or any particular enjoyment in disguise.
It’s just a little low on joy.
So
what we get instead is the first Twelfth
Night I’ve seen where Olivia emerges as a warmer and more engaging
character than Viola. Sinead Cusack gives a terrific performance as a kindly
lady of the manor, her generous nature quickly established by having Feste (a nice
turn by a jovial and wiser-than-he-seems Trevor Peacock) cuddling up to her
like a child in her first scene. In her wooing of Cesario she seems shy and
bashful and so earnest and gentle in her seduction that Viola finds it
impossible to feel anything but sympathy with her. There is a lovely shot at
the end of A2 S2 of her staring, heartbroken and lonely, out of the window as
Cesario leaves. Her pity for Malvolio in A5 S1 is clearly the only thing that
can even slightly soothe him. And it’s no wonder that she has no interest in
Clive Arrindell’s uncharismatic and tedious Orsino.
The
comedy characters suffer from the issues I talked about above. Despite this,
there is some good work here. Robert Hardy plays Sir Toby as a faded army
colonel, gone to seed, overweight and over the hill but clearly still smart and
with a degree of physical courage (he proves himself a good, if rusty, fighter).
He is less a drunk than a roisterer, a bored retiree who treats those around
him as potential sources of amusement, a role that Ronnie Stevens’ meek and
simpering Aguecheek (a man so tame he can only swear in inaudible mumbles,
embarrassed that someone might hear him). His joie-de-vivre sexuality with
Annette Crosbie’s Maria is a nice touch that adds some depth to the character.
Belch is always a low-rent Falstaff, but it’s great to see an interpretation
here that gives him a bit of dignity, rather than just being the first among
idiots.
The
casting of Robert Lindsay (at the time known only as a sitcom actor) is also a
fantastic addition. A much better actor than the casting gives him credit for,
he makes Fabian an actual character: a smart man scornful of his betters, but
fundamentally a coward and a lackey. He also has a lot of energy he brings to
scenes, certainly more than a couple of the other performers which really makes
him stand out. Like Alun Armstrong in Measure
for Measure, it’s easy to see why he went on to have such a strong dramatic
career.
The
balance between comedy and drama in the production, though, is off. All the
best (and memorable) moments in the play are the serious ones not the funny
ones. Alec McCowen’s Malvolio has moments, but it’s a performance that seems
more comfortable in the cold officiousness of A2 S3 or the desperate tragedy of
A4 S2 than the wooing of A3 S4. The flurry of challenges in A4 have their
moments (and there is a nice underplayed double-take from Hardy in A5 S1) but
they don’t have enough energy to them. Michael Thomas’ Sebastian is too much of
a cold figure to provide the bemusement and outrage the scenes need. Even the famous
yellow stockings are only sighted briefly on screen. Compared with the more
‘dramatic’ elements around the relationships of the characters, it never quite
takes flight. And that is perhaps, in the end, a terminal problem for a play
that is probably one of Shakespeare’s funniest stage comedies. You want to be
much more amused by it than you are ever going to be.
Conclusion
The
comedy isn’t there but when the focus is on the dramatic it works rather well
and there are some good performances, in particular Cusack, Hardy and Lindsay,
that reinterpret their characters in subtle ways. The setting of the play works
well to bring out some of the play’s themes. More laughs would be better, but
it’s a massive step-up from As You Like
It and has a little more interpretative flair to it than other productions.
NEXT TIME: Michael
Hordern is betrayed and abandoned but plots his magical revenge in The Tempest.
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