The Central Park Theatre Review: Shakespeare in the Park/Public’s Twelfth Night
By Ross
“All the world’s a stage,” Feste (Moses Sumney) sings with passion and charm, crooning most delightfully to the enthusiastic crowd that has come together inside the Delacorte Theater in Central Park for Shakespeare in the Park‘s gorgeous and delish rendering of Twelfth Night. And we feel the energy and love in the air— even after huddling under the newly renovated awning, staying safe against the tempest that blew through the park just before the Public Theater‘s fiesty and fast production of Shakespeare’s 1602 romantic comedy. But it was all worth the wait and the dashing across the lawn from our picnic to the awning, as this production lifts the remodeling up into the starry sky as big and as beautiful as those letters that boldly proclaim the secondary title of this romp of a play.
Much like our own adventure against the thunder and lightning, Twelfth Night centers its soul on the lost, shipwrecked twins: Viola, gorgeously portrayed by Lupita Nyong’o (Broadway’s Eclipsed), and Sebastian, lovingly portrayed by Lupita’s brother Junior Nyong’o (La Jolla’s The Outsiders). Separated and washed ashore on an unfamiliar beach, they find themselves confronting a world most foreign to their family and language, but not one unknown to them entirely. Their use of Swahili only elevates and endears us even more as we watch Viola disguise herself as a young page named ‘Cesario’, feeling lost and nervous on the shore.
Sebastian’s role, in this version, receives the shortest end of the stick in this romp through this melodic version of Illyria. While Junior Nyong’o’s performance is capable and competent, the part never quite finds its footing. Paired with a unique take on Antonio, b, the production doesn’t seem to know where to go with these two after they set up an unrequited love stance between Antonio and Sebastian with such muscular urgency, but then this Twelfth Night lets it just wander off behind the letters, handcuffed to a completely unpacked idea that is both fascinating but unexplored.
The focus stays on the disguised sister, after she quickly plants herself firmly in the servitude of the deliciously solid Duke Orsino, handsomely played by Khris Davis (Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman on Broadway), who proclaims undying (and unsubstanciated) love for the magnificent but mourning Countess Olivia, spectacularly well played by Sandra Oh (“Killing Eve“; ATC’s The Welkin). It is a framing that is well formulated on a love based on the idea of privilege, but not on heartfelt emotion. Standing proudly center stage, pumping and parading about like a finely toned peacock, Orsino, almost comes off as a pompous musclebound narcissist, but luckily for us all, he somehow manages to still instil some sincerity in the role, keeping us tuned into the affection that Viola feels for him, and for the growing affection he feels for his page, Cesario.
Those of us familiar with Twelfth Night eagerly anticipate that dynamic, but somehow, in Davis’s portrayal, that attraction element doesn’t seem fully present—especially in how this pampered, elitist character responds to his trusted and adoring Cesario. That undercurrent of romantic chemistry, prior to the unveiling, never sparks the kind of discomfort we are used to chuckling at and in the way this production shies away from. Pumping to “If music be the food of love”, that strain within this macho lover man is never given the room to flex that particular muscle. Yet I certainly wish this production played with this complication as much as it does when, perhaps more acceptably, Viola engages with the love-struck Countess Olivia, who falls hard for the fresh-faced, pretty boy Cesario, almost from the very first glance. That encounter feels full of the electric capital-sized spirit this production is striving for.
Yet Olivia’s gentlewoman, Maria, played captivatingly by Daphne Rubin-Vega (Public’s Miss You Like Hell), also has her own bit of missed spark opportunity with her eventual love-interest Sir Toby Belch, portrayed rambunctiously by John Ellison Conlee (Broadway’s The Nap). Unfortunately, I never felt any of that mischievous sexual tension between those two. Rubin-Vega does tend to ground the hijinks of the foolishly fevered Belch and the ridiculously wheelbarrowed-in Andrew Aguecheck, hilariously embodied by Jesse Tyler Ferguson (Broadway’s Take Me Out), who continually smokes the comic pot with an overflowing abundance of line-snorting giddiness in the hot tub, all with the faithful, yet underused Fabian, played by Kapil Talwakar (NBC’s “Night Court“), standing close by. Ferguson and Conlee are an absolute hoot as these two wild drunkards flail around the stage, making an overwhelming level of comic noise that requires Rubin-Vega’s character to constantly pull it down to a level that actually could serve the sped-up 115-minute adaptation by director Saheem Ali (Broadway’s Buena Vista Social Club).
And then there is the raging wonderfulness of the always fascinating Peter Dinklage (The New Group’s Cyrano) as the sharply and precisely portrayed Malvolio, who centers the subplot with a performance that is unmistakably memorable, sharply speedy, and engaging. Together, alongside the guitar-slinging Moses Sumney (HBO’s “The Idol“) in the role of Feste, deliver the focused emotional glee that is required to elevate the piece to its proper height up to the stars and behind the constantly rearranging TREE, a joke that keeps giving almost beyond its branches. It does feel like Ali’s staging and adaptation serve and balance the cartoonish comedy and the darkness of Malvolio’s imprisonment well, moving us through it at a speed that keeps the focus and the fever for the twins alive in our hearts.
The comic effervescence almost overflows the hot tub with its abundance of antique props and ascending fodder, assisted and expanded by heightened work of set designer Maruti Evans (Broadway’s Fat Ham); over-the-top festive costuming by Oana Botez (Public’s Good Bones); starstruck lighting by Bradley King (Broadway’s Water for Elephants); and a sparkling sound design by Palmer Hefferan (Broadway’s John Proctor Is the Villain) and Kai Harada (Broadway’s Dead Outlaw). But it is the delicious Oh, delivering the most profoundly honest and endearing performance of the night, who centers this big lettered production in all the right ways and means. This is where the clarity of Ali’s fast and furious adaptation of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is truly spelled out before us, glittering in the night air. And matched with Lupita Nyong’o and her delightful and intelligent interaction with Oh, the “What You Will” energy finds its colorful core and joyful delight under the stars at the sparkling, newly renovated Delacorte, thankful for its return to the center of a New York City summer’s eve.
