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tamaranthTwelfth Night. Sadly, the Marlowe Dramatic Society doesn't keep its web presence up to date, and I forgot to pick up a cast list ...
There's a review and photos here. (A lovestricken Duke in skinny jeans and a moody clown with a cheap guitar bring Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night into the 21st century emo cult)
I liked this production a lot, though there was the usual problem with actors speaking unfamiliar language too quickly -- the younger members of our party didn't always get the gist of what was going on. (Also, dear audience, I don't care if it's a Saturday matinee; murmuring 'oh dear' every time something bad happens is not necessary.)
Feste in particular was excellent -- not a jolly clown, but an edgy fierce punkish (or Puckish) presence. Malvolio was also splendid. The set was good, too: an elderly Christmas tree, Sir Toby in Santa hat and battered red velvet, interesting lighting.
They did something strange with the ending that I'm not sure made sense: but then I was dosed up on cold meds and perhaps not as attentive as I might've been.
(Yes, the sly joke about Olivia's writing is Shakespeare:
By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very
C's, her U's, and her T's)
There's a review and photos here. (A lovestricken Duke in skinny jeans and a moody clown with a cheap guitar bring Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night into the 21st century emo cult)
I liked this production a lot, though there was the usual problem with actors speaking unfamiliar language too quickly -- the younger members of our party didn't always get the gist of what was going on. (Also, dear audience, I don't care if it's a Saturday matinee; murmuring 'oh dear' every time something bad happens is not necessary.)
Feste in particular was excellent -- not a jolly clown, but an edgy fierce punkish (or Puckish) presence. Malvolio was also splendid. The set was good, too: an elderly Christmas tree, Sir Toby in Santa hat and battered red velvet, interesting lighting.
They did something strange with the ending that I'm not sure made sense: but then I was dosed up on cold meds and perhaps not as attentive as I might've been.
(Yes, the sly joke about Olivia's writing is Shakespeare:
By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very
C's, her U's, and her T's)
