Interwoven Identities: A Comparison of Actor and Audience at Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Posted on January 12th, 2010 by

Seen in the elegant and impressively detailed Duke of York’s theater in the West End of London, William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, directed by Gregory Doran, is a classic story that remains contemporarily accessible for its audience. As evidenced by the fact that most of the audience in attendance on the night of January 7th seemed to be in their thirties or younger, Shakespeare’s text, although written in the 16th century, is still deemed relevant to modern viewers. Visual additions to the classic story, such as the moonwalk performed by Sir Andrew Aguecheek (James Fleet) and the spoof of Monty Python and the Holy Grail involving Feste (Miltos Yerolemou) riding an invisible horse, are woven sparsely enough into Shakespeare’s text without distracting from its original intent, but instead are able to serve as moments of contemporary pop culture references that allow the audience to connect even more to what they’re seeing. By updating Shakespeare’s production and using these elements to speak to the audience, the director is able to let the audience in on a private joke that only they would recognize. The audience feels that they are sharing something with the actors and characters onstage because they can recognize and appreciate these cultural references. In essence, there are two variations of the whole English identity being put on display onstage and in the audience. The historical identity that connects with William Shakespeare, the most celebrated English playwright, who of course lived during the reign of England’s most successful monarchs, Queen Elizabeth I; and then the contemporary identity that ties with modern pop culture and the twenty first century. I say English identity specifically in this because both the playwright and one of the pop culture references (Monty Python) are English in origin, and so the English people are the ones who are truly allowed to connect these references with their society. We, as Americans, may observe this dual identity and also find some connection in it, but it will be a secondhand connection, since we can claim no immediate ties to this part of English history.

But cultural references aside, another important element to Twelfth Night’s success with its viewers is the interplay between light and dark as Director Gregory Doran states in an interview on the Royal Shakespeare Company’s website. The lighter part of the show involves the highly situational and linguistic turn of phrase comedy surrounding Viola’s disguise as a man – Cesario. The darker portion is completely centered on the character of Malvolio. Played by Richard Wilson, the actor brings sympathy to the normally abrasive personality of Olivia’s dour servant, and it struck a chord with the audience in attendance on January 7th. The pitying gasps and soft cries of “Aw” that escaped from the viewers as they watched a heartbroken Malvolio exit the stage demonstrated just how much they truly identified with this character. And indeed, Richard Wilson was the only player to receive applause at the conclusion of his famous letter-reading monologue. Although Malvolio is generally written as unpleasant and abrasive, he is also the figure that audiences most deeply connect with. All he really is, despite his attitude and mannerisms, is a man trying to achieve his dreams. Sure he goes about attempting to fulfill his ambitions in a way that is grating to the other characters, but in essence Malvolio is an embodiment of what we as an audience, and as a people all are – a person trying to achieve our own goals. It is no wonder that great actors such as Richard Burbage, Laurence Olivier, and Derek Jacobi have desired to play this role. To gain this sort of connection with an audience is to gain an understanding of a common identity that we all have. We are all people striving to reach our dreams. When we see one such as ourselves – Malvolio in this instance – thwarted, we empathize, because we know what it is like to be them; and in that moment of understanding, we recognize that in some small way we are not so different.

 

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