Given the recent glut of Shakespearean productions on film, one could be
forgiven for feeling a little jaded about going to see yet another one. "Oh
no, not yet another exquisitely mannered costume drama starring Helena
Bonham Carter's hair!", one might well think.
Well, pause a moment. Al Pacino has been looking for Richard, Baz Luhman
was looking for a contemporary Romeo and Juliet, and Ken Branagh is
probably looking for an academy award (although with the viciously cut
version of Hamlet that is
being shown in New Zealand, we'll never know if he deserves it, but that's
another story). I am happy to say that the only thing this production of
Twelfth Night is looking for is the heart and soul of Shakespeare's play,
and it finds it. This is an honest and compelling film that cuts to the
centre of the Shakespearean text and conveys it with warmth and humanity,
and a commendable lack of hype.
The success of the film is largely due to the fine performances from the
cast, particularly Imogen Stubbs, Ben Kingsley, and Helena Bonham Carter
(who proves that she can do more than look fragile and ethereal). The
film also features a specially adapted prologue that presents crucial plot
information in an easily digestible form. When the action of the play
begins on the shores of Illyria, we are fully aware of the fact that Viola
and her identical twin brother (amazingly so, considering he's a boy) are
oblivious of each other's survival. The prologue clears up some of the
play's initial confusion and establishes the essential mechanisms of the
plot.
Imogen Stubbs is an energetic and likeable Viola/Cesario. Much of the play
hinges on her credibility when disguised as Cesario, and on the audience's
sympathy with her. Stubbs' Viola combines youthful enthusiasm with
melancholy and introspection, and provides the perfect foil to both Orsino's
affected melancholy and romantic langour, and to Olivia's passionate
personality that is being stifled by the constraints of mourning.
The youthful characters of the main plot contrast with the older characters in
the subplot, and this contrast echoes one of the play's themes. The main
thematic material - the contrast of youthful optimism and energy with age
and disillusionment, and the difference between romantic objectification and
real love between equals - is carried by both plot strands, with each
commenting on the other. The plaintive refrain to one of Feste's songs :
"Youth's a stuff will not endure", reminds us that ageing, pain and
disappointment are the background to the comedy of energy and wit.
The character of Feste has a crucial role here. He links the two sets of
characters and provides a focal point for the themes. In many ways, it is
Feste, rather than Viola, who is the emotional centre of the play.
Kingsley's performance here is a risky one. He gives us a jester who is a
deadpan clown, serious and scarred by life, but it's a gamble that pays
off. He creates a Feste whose humanity, even when he is torturing the
hapless Malvolio in a dark dungeon, is his most prominent quality. He goes
along with the fooling of Malvolio in deference to his betters, but he
gives us the distinct impression that it leaves a nasty taste in his mouth.
Kingsley's Feste is a man who has seen and heard more than any of the other
characters, a man who understands more but accepts less.
Bonham Carter gives us a more human Olivia than is often seen, making it
seem plausible that it should be her, rather than Orsino, who falls for
Viola/Cesario. Orsino is romantic and narcissistic, a kind of comic Hamlet
in love with his own inactivity. He can't respond to Viola because she's a
real person and not a romantic ideal. He is only in love with Olivia
because he has an unreal image of her, and, we suspect, because she won't
have a bar of him. Bonham Carter shows us an Olivia who is feisty and
strong, chafing at her restrictions and only too happy to entertain the
amusing Cesario.
The subplot involving Sir Toby and Malvolio is played for its full comic
effect. It is perhaps all the more funny because it treads the fine line
between humour and meanness, tempering the comedy with violence and dark
shadows. Mel Smith's Toby Belch conveys just the right amounts of pomposity
and menace, and Richard E Grant as Andrew Aguecheek is a fine combination of
ridiculousness and pathos. The fooling of Malvolio, while very funny, is
also meant to leave us feeling uncomfortable. There are some elements of
life and human behaviour that are difficult to laugh off.
As with most Shakespearean comedies, the ending is mechanical and contrived,
but this one still satisfies. We feel that Viola should be rewarded with
Orsino's recognition and love, because she is the only character who really
knows what love is. She is the only one whose suffering is the real pain of
unrequited love and not the romantic delusions of someone more interested
in elegant suffering than love. This outcome is also an appropriate
release of the tension between Orsino and Cesario that has been building throughout the
film. We expected from the beginning, of course, that the sibling would be
reunited after the inevitable confusions caused by having two identical
characters. The satisfaction here comes from watching how this comes about,
rather from guessing if it will happen. The Olivia and Sebastian pairing
provides symmetry with Viola and Orsino.
The only asymmetry is Malvolio, but this too is as it should be. As the
film's constant background of turning autumn leaves reminds us, winter is an
inevitable fact of life. So too does Malvolio's refusal to be incorporated
into the happy ending remind us that some of life's ugliness cannot be
prettied up. This is all part of Shakespeare's complex vision of life and
love, a complexity that is admirably presented in this film.
