On video: Curio Theatre Company's rich and strange steampunk 'Twelfth Night'

PHILADELPHIA — A cloud of steam emanates from a Brothers O’Dell 3,000-plus pipe—pipes that will become the bars of Malvolio’s prison--organ, and Curio Theatre Company’s glorious, erotically-tinged “Twelfth Night,” recorded on video by Brian Siano, is underway.

On the upper level of Paul Kuhn’s tiered set (which includes a fireman’s pole) that incorporates the English Gothic Revival architectural features of the performing space within the former once-derelict Calvary Methodist Episcopal Church in West Philadelphia, Nick Martorelli’s morose Orsino, caught in the thrall of unrequited love for Olivia, a cloistered countess, delivers the play-opening speech with “If music be the food of love, play on.” 

Below him, in a scene taking place at the same moment, Chelsea Bulack’s wildcard Viola, washed up half-dead on the shores of Illyria, asks, “What country, friends, is this?”

Deeper into the production, Liam Castellan’s Malvolio, target of a plot to deflate his ego, will, tricked into believing Olivia loves him madly, emerge in an outfit--perhaps not so coincidently--very similar to that which Judy Garland wore for the show-stopper number “Get Happy” in the 1950 MGM musical “Summer Stock,” but wearing canary-yellow stockings and a time-piece top hat instead.

Put all together, director Liz Carlson, with exciting costuming provided by Aetna Gallagher (who also is the production’s saucy Maria in Raggedy Ann-like stockings), has conjured an off-center Jules Vernesque universe of romantic ambition. Kuhn’s lighting floods pockets of this steampunk world with intense light, while other recesses are kept shadowy and ominous—an apt metaphor for this broody, bittersweet play, the last of Shakespeare’s “happy” comedies and the first of his dark.

The production's stagecraft and design are significant achievements in their own right, but the acting is also tasty--very much so. The ensemble work of the 10-member cast is uncommonly—for this play--strong.

The “Twelfth Night” characters in this staging are young--an approach that was particularly effective in the casting of Castellan as Malvolio. Here was not the calcified steward often seen in too many productions of “Twelfth Night,” but a Malvolio who realistically is a potential love match for Olivia, making the subverting of his ambitions even more devastating.

Bulack had some sweet moonstruck moments as Viola, although she could have delved even deeper into her relationship with Olivia—both as Cesario and Viola.

Jennifer Summerfield’s Olivia, in knee-high black boots, black-striped stockings, black leather bustle, and a hairpiece out of science fiction, breathed a quiet eroticism and sexual longing in her attraction to Viola-Cesario, the "man" of her dreams. Her Olivia was, in short, just what one would imagine this highly-sought after heiress, with beauty, brains and money, the prize of Illyria, to look like. And that such a person should fall in love with someone who doesn’t really exist made it all the more delectable.

Martorelli’s melancholy-sodden Orsino returned to real-world love in the final scene as he suddenly found he'd lost the two (or three?) people he loved most.

Ryan Walter’s Sir Toby Belch, Olivia’s uncle, was the embodiment of excess--crude, but not overdone and overplayed as often is the case to many a “Twelfth Night’s” detriment.

Gallagher’s Maria was a treacherous delight, but a sexual attraction between her and Sir Toby was barely hinted at. The reaction of the other characters to the revelation that the two had married at the end was nil.

C.J. Keller’s Sir Andrew Aguecheek was vacuous enough, but he was not always Shakespeare’s sad man who tragically may have no genuine talent or “gifts” to give the world. The poignancy of the line “I was ador’d once too” was lost.

Eric Scotolati’s excellent lyre-toting Feste, with a skull and crossbones sewn onto his black-leather “motley” coat, was more pervasive in this rendition, serving double duty in all of the smaller roles. The part of Fabian was cut—not an unusual occurrence—and his lines reapportioned among Feste and Maria. The impulse is to want to believe all Shakespeare’s characters—even Fabian—are playable, but Carlson, as John Christian Plummer did in his 2008 “Twelfth Night” for the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival, made a convincing case that “Twelfth Night” is a better play without Fabian.

The scenes between John Schultz’s Antonio and Jon Bulack’s (Chelsea Bulack’s real-life brother) Sebastian, Viola’s identical twin brother, whom she presumes lost at sea, worked well, with just a hint of sexual ambiguity in their relationship, but also leaving little doubt that theirs is a genuine friendship—something that has lost its meaning these days.

Many directors wreck the letter scene, in which Malvolio is cruelly made to believe Olivia loves him, but here Carlson and her actors showed remarkable restraint, resisting the endless quest for the next “Twelfth Night” Big Gimmick and letting things play out on Shakespeare’s terms. The scene, as a result, was a production highlight. Gallagher’s Maria, Walter’s Sir Toby and Scotolati’s Feste were a threesome with a streak of pent-up cruelty unleashed on Malvolio. But the play’s big dirty joke—Malvolio’s “These be her very c’s, her u’s, and her t’s, and thus makes she her great P’s,” was the one thing that didn’t work.

Pacing, especially in the act 5, scene 1 denouement with Orsino and Olivia fighting over Viola-Cesario, was an intermittent problem. Carlson also made some odd cuts in the text, including Maria’s “I pray you bring your hand to th' butt’ry bar, and let it drink,” in which some Marias force the insipid Sir Andrew’s hand to their breasts while others thrust it to their crotch.

Carlson’s cinematic cross-cutting between the play’s first two scenes was a bold artistic stroke, but not as entirely effective as it was in the launch of the late-night party scene, as Feste begins to play the melancholic “O Mistress Mine” for Sir Toby and Sir Andrew as the Orsino-Viola “Patience on a monument” scene begins above, stage right. Added as a third element was Olivia, above, stage left, isolated and lonely, exiting as Feste sings “Youth’s a stuff will not endure” below. As riveting as the cross-cutting among these three scenes was, it came at a high cost: Feste’s song “Come Away, Death” in the Orsino-Viola-Cesario scene was cut.

The comedy sliced through the play’s darkness beautifully and effortlessly. The duel scene, instigated by Sir Toby, between Sir Andrew and Viola was as much fun as it was from Sir Toby’s perspective.

The theme of obsession was somewhat muted in this production, and Carlson went with a straight, ambiguity-free ending, which felt inconsistent with the strange and alluring world she and her design team created. There was no suggestion of emotional consequences of the decision the unwitting Viola made on the beach at Illyria when she disguised herself as a man for her own safety and to honor the brother she believes has drowned.

Carlson could have been a little more daring in exploring the play’s convoluted sexuality, but the result was still a rare—again, for this play--achievement of melancholy laced with cut-to-the-bone humor. The majority of “Twelfth Nights” don’t even come close.

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The Curio Theatre Company's production of “Twelfth Night” was recorded on video by Brian Siano during the May 15 and 16, 2010 performances and can be seen on YouTube at http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=8ABF5A30BD735537

Kyle Cassidy's photographs of the Curio Theatre Company production can be viewed on the Web at http://www.kylecassidy.com/pix/2010/twelfth-web-gallery/noflash/content/ctc1_large.html

Wayne Myers is the author of “The Book of Twelfth Night, or What You Will: Musings on Shakespeare’s Most Wonderful Play,” published by Wheatmark Press in April 2010.