(July 4, 2008)

Catching “Twelfth Night” on Its First

Peter D. Kramer/The Journal News

All is not as it seems in "Twelfth Night," now in repertory at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival in Garrison. When you see Feste, the fool, you're looking at the play's wisest character.

Behold Cesario, the faithful servant boy, and you're looking at a lady in disguise.

And Malvolio, the haughty servant who would hold all to his moral compass, is, in fact, a preening peacock.

Welcome to Illyria, where the shipwrecked Viola - distraught over the loss of her brother, Sebastian, at sea - makes landfall. Soon, she is dressed as the pageboy Cesario, working for Duke Orsino, a man smitten with the countess Olivia, who also mourns the loss of a brother.

It becomes Cesario's (Viola's) job to woo Olivia, a task he (she) is too good at: Before long, Olivia is in love - with Cesario.

Oops.

And welcome to the Boscobel Restoration where, under first-time HVSF director John Christian Plummer, "Twelfth Night" gets a rollicking retelling aided by a roving band of musicians.

The merry band plays a half-dozen ditties - with words by Shakespeare and music by Ray Bokhour - and provides the evening's musical underscoring.

"Twelfth Night" should be a musical affair, starting as it does with the words: "If music be the food of love, play on."

There is music, there is love and there is a touch of magic, too. These players create Illyria without sets and with few props, in a tent on a magnificent bluff overlooking the Hudson Highlands.

The festival, now in its 22nd season, is Shakespeare distilled to its essence: actors, words, and a tent-covered bit of hard-packed earth that serves as a stage.

The economy of the action is impressive: To portray a tempest-tossed Viola at sea, Plummer's actors lock arms, encircling her, hurling her from one link to another until she's thrown onto the Illyrian shore.

There may not be sets, but Charlotte Palmer-Lane's costumes are stylized and gorgeous, a wondrous palette of blacks, reds and whites, with men and women wearing skirts of one length or another.

The roving musicians make an impressive entrance, in red berets, red jackets, black skirts and combat boots. The ensemble's ensemble is topped off with John Lennon sunglasses. Too cool.

All it takes for a lovely woman to disguise herself as a boy is to don a beret and men's clothing - here, a long skirt and vest.

Plummer is an acolyte of artistic director Terrence O'Brien's approach to the bard - keep it simple, keep it moving and keep it fun.

As Viola, Katie Hartke is a comic gem, capable of the physical humor the role demands while still finding her character's heart. Her scenes with the equally adept Gabra Zackman as Olivia are a scintillating mix of love, scorn and confusion as Cesario (Viola) professes his master's love to Olivia, only to be scorned by the countess.

When the tables are turned and Olivia becomes the suitor to Cesario, Hartke is a jumble of confusion and revulsion and Zackman is the smitten one who won't take no for an answer.

Richard Ercole and Paul Bates are comic gold as Sir Toby Belch (an apt name, as Ercole demonstrates) and Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a suitor to Sir Toby's niece, Olivia. Ercole's sidewinding walk when he's in his cups (and when isn't he?) elicits giggles from the Boscobel crowd.

As the countess' gentlewoman, Maria, Eleanor Handley makes a nice turn. And Michael Borelli is commanding yet obsessed as Orsino.

In clown white and a red wig, there's no doubting that Maia Guest plays the jester, Feste. She lends her lovely, clear voice to the songs and ably delivers some of the evening's sharpest lines. She has the audience from the first and - but for a few moments when her voice was too soft to be heard - rallied the crowd nicely.

Festival regular Wesley Mann - a born comedian - plays Olivia's self-absorbed servant Malvolio for laughs from the start, a choice that weakens the contempt Olivia's retinue feels for him. Laughing too soon at Malvolio makes his comeuppance feel somehow less satisfying later.

Kelsey Olson as Antonia, the sea captain, and Max Polski as Sebastian, Viola's rescued brother, lack the polish of their counterparts. Their words seem too rehearsed, too singsong, too soft to be heard. Their scenes together dragged as their volume and command of the text seemed to flag. In surer hands, these moments would be fast and assured.

Still, this is Illyria and a happy ending is guaranteed - except for Malvolio, who vows revenge and slinks off - and the evening ends, appropriately, with another song.

The peacock is gone, the lady is a lady yet again.

But the fool is still the wisest one.