TWELFTH NIGHT

Kew Gardens

★★★★

“a delight to watch, under the stars, where magic blends with mayhem”

The Australian Shakespeare Company’s press release promises to bring an “eventful” (their quotation marks) production of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” to the grounds of Kew Gardens this summer. For once, this is no mere promotional embellishment. Their lively take on the bard’s romantic comedy is, indeed, chock-full of memorable moments and offbeat surprises. They are the Lords of Misrule. Shakespeare would applaud their sense of mischief and bear no grudges whatsoever as they happily run amok with all the liberties they have taken.

It is a kind of creative chaos, but one that still allows the clarity of the text cut through. Each performer has a firm hold of the rhythm and a solid understanding of the verse and the prose. Occasionally reason gets left behind as some choices come with quite a hefty question mark. The shaky foundations, however, are strengthened by the brilliance of a top-notch cast who perform with the unbridled energy of rock musicians let loose at a summer festival. The tone is complemented by the uncredited costume design – although ‘design’ is a loose definition. A wonderful mix of New Romantic, Glam Rock, Commedia dell’arte, Alice-In-Wonderland and travelling circus. Viola (Louise Hoare) and Sebastian (Scott Middleton) are visually indistinguishable with their scarlet Ziggy Stardust mullets and Aladdin Sane lightning bolt (the face paint works better for Viola/Cesario, indicating – as it did with Bowie – the split identity of a new persona; but maybe we’re overthinking here).

The music, which veers towards an acoustic-driven folksy vibe, doesn’t always follow the visual aesthetic of the show. Alex Cooper’s Feste wear’s his guitar like a third arm and leads the musical numbers with his commanding singing voice. He wouldn’t be out of place in the back room of an Irish pub, although on occasion he leads the ensemble into anthemic choruses that feel like ‘Live Aid’ has gate-crashed a party at Steve Strange’s Blitz Club circa 1980. In another company’s hands this could be met with bewilderment, but the end effect here is quite magical. It is a touch odd, too, to witness ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ during a heatwave on the last day of July, yet it is as funny as it is incongruous.

Director Glenn Elston’s lively staging puts as much, if not more, focus on the household and supporting figures as the principal roles. Sir Toby Belch, despite being three sheets to the wind, rules the roost. Jackson McGovern plays the loveable rogue to perfection, fuelled by cheap wine. Along with Tony Rive’s Sir Andrew Aguecheek they make a wonderful double act; magnificently rounded off with Monica Nash’s Maria and Larissa Teale’s Fabian on full comedic form. The foursome are clearly having the time of their lives. Olivia is a dark and sultry Goth in mourning while Malvolio is a toff in a morning suit – both truly relishing their roles. Nicole Nabout slightly overdoes Olivia’s transition from ice-maiden to vixen when she falls for the mistaken identity of Ceasario, pursuing him/her with a ‘Carry On’ bawdiness. But in more restrained moments her sensual charisma shines. Maverick Newman’s Malvolio is suitably uptight until he uncoils, inviting at first our laughter and then our sympathy.

The anarchic humour, which is sometimes overpowering, still allows for subtleties; such as the sexual ambiguities. Hugh Sexton, as Orsino, conveys a certain confusion, unsure if Cesario is a boy or a girl (Bowie’s ‘Rebel Rebel’ comes to mind… so maybe there is thought behind the make-up). But if the characters are in a whirl, the audience are in a cyclone. The second act has a tendency to descend into full-on slapstick surrealism, throwing in some Southern-Gothic, Voodoo, gospel and wizardry into the mix. Oh, and an Italianate police officer in shiny blue hotpants.

The Australian Shakespeare Company’s “Twelfth Night” is certainly a rich tapestry. We are often not sure exactly what is going on in the minds of its creators. But it is a delight to watch, under the stars, where magic blends with mayhem. Just as Viola says of Feste; ‘this fellow is wise enough to play the fool; and do that well craves a kind of wit’, this adaptation is very silly indeed, but it is clear that intelligence, wit and profound skill are the driving force behind its nonsense and absurdity. A wonderful night of ‘midsummer madness’.

TWELFTH NIGHT

Kew Gardens

Reviewed on 31st July 2026

by Jonathan Evans

TWELFTH NIGHT

★

“It may be a perfect day for Renton, but sadly, not for us”

There is always controversy, and also a certain predictability, when the counterculture becomes mainstream. The classic example of this is punk rock’s aggressive rejection of the music industry and society in the 1970s, which eventually turned into a conventional consumer commodity. No longer a threat, but accepted everyday life. There is sometimes irony in this, particularly when the original meaning is lost on its new audience. Lou Reed’s song ‘Perfect Day’ was incongruously picked up as the anthemic Children in Need charity single back in 1997. Did nobody examine the lyrics? As a love letter to heroin, however, it was an ideal choice for Danny Boyle’s film adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s gritty novel about Edinburgh heroin addicts. Already a massive cultural landmark of the nineties, the film revitalised modern British cinema.

One would hope that the musical treatment would have the same effect on London’s West End. Especially with Welsh himself at the helm, adapting his own novel and co-writing the original music and lyrics (with Stephen McGuinness) that sit alongside snippets of the iconic soundtrack from the film. It could be a triumph. And indeed, it is. A triumph of ambition over direction. The result is a senseless concoction of ideas that make a kindergarten brainstorming session look like rocket science. Practically every theatrical choice has no thought behind it.

Hats off to the cast, though, who dive headlong into their roles with the determination of an addict after their next fix. The commitment cannot be faulted, despite the occasional hesitation that betrays an unease with the material they have been handed. There is a moment when Spud (Kieran Andrew) questions why his fellow druggies keep bursting into song, echoing the audience’s bafflement. A moment of lucidity in the writing, perhaps, yet the self-referential humour is unsustained, leaving the potential for full-on parody unrealised.

Welsh’s novel, the subsequent stage adaptation and Boyle’s film follows the five principal characters in a stream-of-consciousness style. Its nonlinear plot allows differing perspectives that lead to a three-dimensional overview of these desperate characters. Director Caroline Jay Ranger’s staging flattens them in what is essentially a series of vignettes and songs plucked from a goody bag without rhyme or reason, leaving the actors to muddle through a mire of disjointed nonsense. Frankie O’Connor has muscle as the sociopathic Begbie but lacks the requisite menace. In short, we fail to believe. The harrowing moment when Rosie Dignan’s Alison loses her baby while she injects herself with heroin is obscured in clunky blocking and distraction – we are too busy wondering if this is a cue for another ill-fitting musical number.

Lewis Kidd, as Renton, has the charisma to bear the bulk of the narration, but we are told too much rather than being allowed to watch and make up our own minds. Renton’s parents (Rebecca McKinnis and Gordon Cooper) make an appearance in this musical version as expositional add-ons. Like the whole cast they have fine singing voices, but put to bewildering use. There are glimpses, however, for example the gospel-tinged reprise of Iggy Pop’s ‘Lust for Life’ which shows off the company’s rousing ensemble harmonies. Harmonies that simply don’t belong here, however, in much the same way that this story doesn’t belong in the plush surroundings of the Theatre Royal Haymarket. It is homogenised beyond recognition. Gone is all sense of subversion. Take away the expletives and we could be in a suburban school hall.

The run up to opening night was peppered with the question of why Welsh’s novel should be a musical. But then again, anything can be nowadays. On a positive note, “Trainspotting the Musical” defeats that argument. This dubious sense of optimism is reflected in the closing moments of the show, during which Renton shafts his so-called mates, steals their money and gleefully scarpers. A bit of a misguided message, especially when accompanied by a stirring chorus of ‘Perfect Day’. It may be a perfect day for Renton, but sadly, not for us.

Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

TWELFTH NIGHT

★★★★

Kew Gardens

TWELFTH NIGHT

Kew Gardens

★★★★

“a delight to watch, under the stars, where magic blends with mayhem”