Pig Iron’s ‘Twelfth Night’ (1st review)

Twelfth Night is probably one of Shakespeare’s crudest and most raucous comedies. The plot is a tissue-thin concoction concerning twin siblings, mistaken identities, gender confusion, unrequited love and some drunken ne’er-do-wells whose only function is to wreak havoc in a noble woman’s household.

Pig Iron Theater apparently made the artistic choice to emphasize the play’s rough edges, attacking the proceedings with all the gusto and finesse of a bar brawl. The result seemed to delight a nearly packed house on opening night audience. To their delight, yes—but not so much to mine.

Uneven pacing

Should you go see this production? Well, yes, I guess; you’ll probably laugh your ass off. I did, at certain spots. But is it good Shakespeare? Well, not particularly. And it distresses me to have to say this, because Pig Iron enjoys a deserved reputation for imagination and artistic audacity. So it surprised me that the direction by company member Dan Rothenberg was so pedestrian. The staging was merely adequate. Rothenberg seemed unable to pull together the disparate elements and his extremely uneven cast into a cohesive whole, with the result that I felt I was watching a sketch comedy rather than a full-length play. Pacing varied greatly, too, from appropriately brisk to torturously languid.

One of the high points in the cast was Dito van Reigersberg (love that name) as Count Orsino. His mannered, effete nobleman was thoroughly realized, communicating more comedy with a light frown or gesture than many others managed with a whole ream of jokes. His opening scene was a delightfully choreographed piece in which van Reigersberg played off three servants, wordlessly illustrating both the Count’s character and his relationship with his household staff. This brief scene demonstrated what director Rothenberg can achieve with actors of sufficient ability.

Just as impressive was Chris Thorn as Malvolio, a servant from a different household whose only apparent purpose in the play is to have pranks played on him. Thorn gave his character a brittle officiousness whose gullibility and progressive loss of dignity often stole the show.

Biggest disappointment

The three main women actors (Kristen Sieh, Charleigh E. Parker, Birgit Huppuch) were adequate, if unmemorable. Some of them focused on their comedic delivery and others focused on character development— but alas, never the twain did meet.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment was James Sugg’s characterization of Sir Toby, a major motivating character in the play’s plot and the intended source of its comedy. Sugg managed to make Toby thoroughly unlikable and often unfunny. In the end, what should have been a boisterous Falstaffian character came across instead like an obnoxious supporting player in a bad Judd Apatow movie.

One directorial flourish that did work for me was the placement of live musicians onstage. Rothenberg managed to integrate the band relatively seamlessly into the action, and the music often helped punctuate and enhance a comedic moment. However, Rothenberg also called on several musicians to double as actors in prominent supporting roles. No musician up there had any business trying to act. No, oh no, no, no, no.

Urban adventure

As I said, everyone else in the audience seemed to enjoy themselves immensely, laughing at all the jokes— a tribute to Twelfth Night’s funny, if crudely raucous nature. But for me it was the most wildly uneven Shakespeare I’ve experienced in quite a while.

This was my first opportunity to experience the new Fringe Arts space at Columbus Boulevard and Race Street. It’s a former industrial building, with much of the interior still showing decaying industrial condition— which, oddly, lent everything a sort of raffish urban chic. I was duly impressed by the scale of it all. Also, the theater’s location at the base of the western tower of the Ben Franklin Bridge provides one of the most dramatic views imaginable. The whole complex conveys a vibe of urban adventure. Check it out.

To read another review by Alaina Mabaso, click here.