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kindkitMy newly-rediscovered adoration of Danger UXB has got me seeking out other performances by Maurice Roëves, who was brilliant in UXB as Sergeant James. Since Sergeant James pinged my gaydar hard, you can imagine my delight at discovering that Roëves had played Antonio in the 1980 BBC/Time-Life production of Twelfth Night.
I got it from Netflix and watched it tonight, and it was better than any other play I've watched from that particular BBC series. (I read somewhere that part of the series's mandate was to avoid interpretation, which was seen as some kind of modern corruption of Shakespeare's Sacred Texts. This requirement, as you can imagine, generally resulted in soul-killing dullness.) It was a bit more cheerful than my own reading of Twelfth Night, but it didn't totally ignore the melancholy undertones or the way the play's happy ending structurally requires certain kinds of exclusion. And the costumes were very pretty.
The text was uncut, which was especially nice for me since Antonio's lines (especially, for some inexplicable reason, the really homoerotic ones) are often the first to go. Roëves did a good job, but seemed to be wishing for slightly freer rein. I can't blame him; the production didn't, to its credit, try to erase the homoeroticism either of Antonio's love for Sebastian or of Orsino's confused feelings for someone he thinks is a boy, but there was something unemotional and brisk about most of the play. People read their lines in a great hurry (the whole uncut text took only 2:08) and there was no time to develop emotional moments. I can't help thinking of what an amazing performance Roëves, who's extremely good at intense but tightly-controlled feeling, could've given if he'd had the chance.
I must confess to laughing when I saw that Felicity Kendal (aka Barbara from The Good Life) was playing Viola, but it worked. She was completely unconvincing as a boy, of course (why is it always tiny frail little things who are cast as Viola?) but she brought out Viola's charm and her witty intelligence.
The best thing about the play, though, was Alec McCowen's complex, nuanced Malvolio. All Malvolio's vices were clearly and amusingly on show--his self-love, his ambition, his kill-joy prudery, his hypocrisy--but never to the point of caricature. Malvolio remained human and not unsympathetic, which I think is vital if the play itself isn't to be cruel. The audience needs to wince with Malvolio as well as laugh at him, and McCowen gave the imprisonment scene and the revelation at the end the necessary desperation.
My favorite Twelfth Night on film is still Trevor Nunn's 1996 production (it has interpretation! awesome music! beautiful scenery! good acting if you ignore Helena Bonham Carter!). But if you want to see the whole play, uncut and un-rearranged, this one's definitely worth renting.
I got it from Netflix and watched it tonight, and it was better than any other play I've watched from that particular BBC series. (I read somewhere that part of the series's mandate was to avoid interpretation, which was seen as some kind of modern corruption of Shakespeare's Sacred Texts. This requirement, as you can imagine, generally resulted in soul-killing dullness.) It was a bit more cheerful than my own reading of Twelfth Night, but it didn't totally ignore the melancholy undertones or the way the play's happy ending structurally requires certain kinds of exclusion. And the costumes were very pretty.
The text was uncut, which was especially nice for me since Antonio's lines (especially, for some inexplicable reason, the really homoerotic ones) are often the first to go. Roëves did a good job, but seemed to be wishing for slightly freer rein. I can't blame him; the production didn't, to its credit, try to erase the homoeroticism either of Antonio's love for Sebastian or of Orsino's confused feelings for someone he thinks is a boy, but there was something unemotional and brisk about most of the play. People read their lines in a great hurry (the whole uncut text took only 2:08) and there was no time to develop emotional moments. I can't help thinking of what an amazing performance Roëves, who's extremely good at intense but tightly-controlled feeling, could've given if he'd had the chance.
I must confess to laughing when I saw that Felicity Kendal (aka Barbara from The Good Life) was playing Viola, but it worked. She was completely unconvincing as a boy, of course (why is it always tiny frail little things who are cast as Viola?) but she brought out Viola's charm and her witty intelligence.
The best thing about the play, though, was Alec McCowen's complex, nuanced Malvolio. All Malvolio's vices were clearly and amusingly on show--his self-love, his ambition, his kill-joy prudery, his hypocrisy--but never to the point of caricature. Malvolio remained human and not unsympathetic, which I think is vital if the play itself isn't to be cruel. The audience needs to wince with Malvolio as well as laugh at him, and McCowen gave the imprisonment scene and the revelation at the end the necessary desperation.
My favorite Twelfth Night on film is still Trevor Nunn's 1996 production (it has interpretation! awesome music! beautiful scenery! good acting if you ignore Helena Bonham Carter!). But if you want to see the whole play, uncut and un-rearranged, this one's definitely worth renting.
