Twelfth Night

April 8th-12th, 1960

THERE is no pageantry or battle in Twelfth Night to divert the audience's attention from Shakespeare's intricate word-play, and this demands from the actors a mannered style and clarity of speaking that no amount of beef-cake humour or producer's distractions can displace. That schoolboy actors should fail to achieve subtle changes of pace in the delivery of their lines, while preserving the overall structure of the verse, is not surprising when many professionals fail here too; but they can be expected to bang straight in on their cues, to begin a scene as soon as it is set without awkward ten second pauses, and to declaim their lines distinctly. These virtues were not always achieved in this production; but it does not mean that it was in any sense a failure: this Twelfth Night had many imaginative and memorable moments.

The chief glory was undoubtedly the costumes. If anything helped to cover up the inadequacies of the speaking it was the dress. One remembers particularly Orsino's splendid tunic and cloak, Olivia's enchanting red and white bridal gown, and the pastel blue dresses of her three women attendants. In Mrs. Miller this Dramatic Society possesses a genius, quiet and unassuming, whose talents many a professional producer would be glad to draw upon.

The permanent set successfully tamed the temperamental School Hall; but less successful were the colours decorating it. Candy-floss pink arches supported by cochineal posts reminded at least one Northerner not of Illyria, land of fantasy, so much as Italian ice cream palais. One feared lest the old and antique song requested by the Duke would send Feste careering into Funiculi, Funicula. Much of the music was composed this year, and creditably, by boys. The setting of Come away, Death by M. Hill was most attractive: it is a pity that he was not given leave to set the two other songs as well.

Grouping and movement were throughout effective, and particularly so in the Letter Scene (when the Three Flower Pot Men overplayed for all they were worth), and in the final scene, when carefully arranged splashes of colour helped to relieve the tedium of that extended denouement. The convincing employment of the hands remains a K.E.S. dramatic bugbear, Feste and Malvolio alone excepted.

Of the acting, individual honours must go to Malvolio and Feste. It has been said that the actor's eyes are the windows of his soul. In the Malvolio of P. Johnson there was at last a schoolboy actor using his eyes skilfully to project character; his sense of timing too improved much during the run. P. Kenning's Feste was a well-studied performance: his fluid movement and gesture were a particular joy. He sang his songs well too, though he seemed to miss the ironic undertones of 0 Mistress Mine. The only real flaw in this performance was the naive tendency to express nimbleness of mind by running off half a dozen sentences on one breath, like a Gilbertian patter-song. Much of Feste's delicate word tracery was thereby lost to the audience—such a sad casualty was the exposition of a drunken man in Act 1, Scene 5. M. Lodge as Orsino was brilliantly dressed and made-up. This warm-hearted actor had a proper richness of voice, but his gestures were not eloquent enough. At the opening, instead of commanding the stage easily and gracefully, he seemed ill at ease, arms nervously riveted to his chest. The Duke's gentlemen seemed to have caught this nervousness too, for I have rarely seen a Court with so little to say and creating such a lack of personality and mood. The only person to capture the true languid air was S. A. Morant, one of the Duke's musicians. And I have never seen two such gentle and innocuous officers of the law as M. Hill and P. Gurney, but let that pass.

For the women, the Viola of N. Jowett looked just right, but he was inclined to hurry some of his lines without due care and articulation. Nevertheless, obvious sincerity and sensitivity were there, and he may well come to do great work for this Society in future years. D. Jones's Maria showed great promise too, though he played her nearer to the common serving-wench than to the sophisticated lady-in-waiting than she really is. The problem was Olivia. D. Watson spoke clearly and acted honestly, but had not the maturity and composure for this part. A more satisfactory solution might have been to cast an older boy in the part, even though losing the advantage of the unbroken voice. As it was, it would perhaps have helped if she had been allowed to sit down more often, especially when confronted by Malvolio's advances.

The beautifully designed programme acknowledged the help given by an unseen host of masters, boys and mothers, and presiding over and directing all this talent was the benign figure of the producer, Mr. Chalmers. No better testament to his ability can be made than by pointing to his consistent dramatic success at this school. One can only marvel; and wish him well in this perilous business for next year.

J. R. WILLIAMS.

[KES Mag May 60]