Twelfth Night

The Lord of Misrule has proclaimed the onset of midsummer madness at Eliot House, and a lovelier holiday feast-time never was. The great hall is filled with music, fustian, courtiers on carpet consideration, ladies with damask cheeks, and a fool in motley. This is a fine matter indeed for a May evening.

Caroline Cross (Director) has gathered the cream of local acting talent into one smooth and professional cast, put them in the three-quarter round of an extremely serviceable setting (designed by Yoshiaku Shimizu), and given them some of the world's wittiest lines to speak. Quite clearly, it was a great night for Harvard drama.

High comedy is often compared to the dance, but few performances justify that analogy with the grace that this one musters. Miss Cross, who began her career here as a choreographer, has blocked this production like a ballet. Her most apt pupil, David Gullette (Feste) capers and leaps about in endless motion. He and Adrienne Harris (Maria) continually struck just the right pitch of lightness.

Jill Shallcross (Olivia) tempered the usual icy tones of her role with a winsome warmth. Forbidding when she chooses to be, this Olivia can cast off her grey vizard at will, as she blows her nail wistfully and thinks of her lover.

Maria Livanos (Viola) and Peter Gesell (Toby Belch) add more robust comedy; Miss Livanos turns in her most flexible performance to date and all but overcomes the cloying cuteness of her voice with a newfound range of inflections and gestures.

Lawrence Martin's Aguecheek smacks a trifle of the music hall and misses some of Sir Andrew's pathos, but he is terribly funny all the same. John Casey, on the other hand, clogged the flow of mirth, especially in the opening scene. His timing lacked the elegance needed for Orsino's opening speech; however, he gained assurance with time, and achieved a certain nobility by the end. Allen Graubard (Fabian) was the only serious flaw among the principals; he spoke awkwardly and without much awareness of the show's airy pace and style.

Gregory Levin's music was very much "in style." His songs kept reminding me of Greensleeves, though they were quite original, and Feste's straining voice did not damage these hardy tunes much.

Twelth Night abounds in great talk, but the most perceptive remark of the evening belonged to Olivia, who said with a glance of pure delight: "Oh, most wonderful.."