Filter Theatre's 'Twelfth Night'

But when London's Filter Theatre — commissioned by the Royal Shakespeare Company for their Complete Works Festival — set up for Twelfth Night, the stage is filled by a drum kit, bass guitar, several keyboards and laptops on tables, speakers, microphones, and lots of wires. Before the show, performers check levels and equipment, and wander through the house chatting with the audience.

Duke Orsino's first line, "If music be the food of love, give me excess of it," prompts a joyful blast of frenetic sound, and director Sean Holmes's 90-minute production soars through song, Shakespeare's words, and manic clowning, all framing a sweet romantic tale.

Semi-improvised jams

The houselights stay on, allowing the actors to run through the audience for many scenes. Stage manager Christie DuBois sits on stage and occasionally joins the action, and costume changes occur in front of us. When Viola (Amy Marchant) comes to shore in Illyria after a shipwreck and decides to disguise herself as a man and serve Orsino, she asks the audience for a man's coat and hat, and wears them for the entire play, using her own socks to stuff her trouser crotch.

Seemingly random lines inspire extended semi-improvised jams, though the action is actually very carefully crafted. An extended gag with drunken Sir Toby (Dan Poole) and his sidekick Aguecheek (Harry Jardine) seems to stop the action entirely just to create a few laughs, then builds to a stunning audience-participation rock crescendo that includes a game with foam balls sticking to a Velcro hat, people pulled onstage to dance, and a pizza delivery — until sour Malvolio (Fergus O'Donnell) ruins the fun, thus inspiring the cruel prank that Sir Toby, Aguecheek, and Maria (Sandy Foster) play on him later.

This launches an even more fun full-cast song, with Malvolio, tricked into thinking that his employer Olivia (Ronke Adekuluejo) loves him, dancing around stripped down to gold briefs and high yellow socks.

Silliness in service of the story

It's all rather silly, but tells the story very well, even though the final scenes of this streamlined version feel a bit rushed. The actors play multiple roles clearly (with some smaller roles literally phoned in or played over radios), but when Marchant's two characters meet, those who don't know the play might be confused. But it's all so much damn fun — the performance ends with a brilliantly arranged song from the play, with the entire cast playing instruments and singing along — that it's impossible to complain.

At the end, the stage looks like the aftermath of a party: costume pieces, shoes, pizza boxes, and people strewn all over, and that satisfying after-concert ear-buzz. This exhilarating Twelfth Night is great fun for all, but might especially win over anyone who thinks that Shakespeare must be stiff and dull.