As the play opens, shipwrecked Viola (Polly Findlay) dons men's clothing and becomes "Cesario," page to the love-crazed Duke Orsino (Jonny Fowles) and entrusted by him with the courtship of his melancholy neighbor, Olivia (Katherine Allott). The arrangement backfires when Olivia falls in love with "Cesario," as Viola yearns for the Duke-a bizarre state of affairs remedied only by the reappearance of Viola's supposedly drowned twin brother, Sebastian (Matthew Ashcroft). A second plot concerns the humiliation of Olivia's snooty butler Malvolio (Matt Alexander) by her cousin Sir Toby Belch (Paul O'Mahony) and the servant Maria (Gwyneth Glyn-Evans) with a forged love letter purportedly sent by Olivia. After making advances to his mistress, he is locked up in a dark room, where the rest of the household tries to convince him he is mad
As a traveling troupe, the OUDS work with minimalist sets; however, their constant rearrangement against the black velvet backdrop also creates a sense of mutability well suited to the play's ethos, hinting that the transformation of reality may be achieved with as much ease. The cast execute all set changes and remain onstage throughout the piece, their continued presence on the margin of the performance area serving both to emphasize their unity as an ensemble and to highlight the extent to which the play is a self-aware fiction. They also function intermittently as a haunting chorus.
Unfortunately, the play's acting is not as smooth as its well-planned dramaturgy. Findlay is lovable as Viola and manages to imbue her with a very charming wryness as she addresses the audience, while Allott makes a delightfully arch and elegant Olivia. But Fowles often sounds as if he is reciting Orsino's lines rather than living them, and Ashcroft's bland performance does little to shed light on Sebastian's curious behavior. The dramatic scenes in general lack fire, perhaps because the romances with which they are chiefly concerned have always been among the least convincing in Shakespeare. Clifton's direction of them, too, could be tighter, as there are certain instances where actors' responses lag or where they seem constrained by unnatural movements.
For the most part, OUDS' comic players fare far better, mining their material with spontaneity and zest. O'Mahony in particular is uproarious as the blustering Sir Toby, while Rob Riddell's idiotic Sir Andrew Agucheek proves a worthy foil for his drunken shenanigans. Glyn-Evans, by contrast, seems as unresponsive as Maria and fails to inject her scheming character with the proper glee.
Though often illuminated by hilarity, Twelfth Night also contains disconcerting pockets of darkness that are passed over by Shakespeare's saccharine ending, which has (almost) everyone going off to get married, and Clifton is not afraid to face them. He chooses, for example, to make the relationship between Sebastian and Antonio (Richard Madeley), the sailor that rescues him, frankly homosexual. The effect is to make Sebastian's marriage to Olivia at the play's end seem even more nakedly opportunistic, especially when we see the happy couple contrasted with the forlorn figure of Antonio, head bowed and eyes shut in pain beside them. This silent, grieving moment does more than all the speeches given by the protagonists, whose sentiments have comfortably fallen into line with their interests, since it makes us wonder how deep their love can truly be-and, by extension, how deep our own feelings may or may not run.