Theatre review: A bold, sensory feast as Bard on the Beach's Twelfth Night goes to the circus
A pitch-perfect cast digs into the foolery, original songs, and carnival whimsy of new production in the Vanier Park big top
Olivia Hutt as Olivia and Charlie Gallant as Sebastian in Bard on the Beach’s circus-themed Twelfth Night. Photo by Tim Matheson
Bard on the Beach presents Twelfth Night at the BMO Mainstage in Vanier Park to September 21
“FOOLERY, SIR, DOES walk about the orb like the sun, it shines everywhere,” observes Feste, the clown at the heart of Twelfth Night. And in director Diana Donnelly's staging, foolery dazzles brilliantly.
The Bard’s beloved antics—false identities, unrequited love, musical interludes, boozy escapades, and improbable coincidences—are heightened by a reimagined circus setting. With a glitzy air of mystery and magic swirling around Bard on the Beach’s big top, this Twelfth Night is a bold, sensory feast, blending Shakespearean wit with carnival whimsy and a large serving of popcorn-fuelled fun.
Our heroine, Viola, is washed ashore in the strange land of Illyria, mourning the apparent loss of her twin brother. After getting the lay of the land from a sea captain who doubles as a ringmaster (Andrew Wheeler), she swiftly transforms by putting on her brother’s blazer. Presenting as a man named “Cesario,” Viola stirs chaos in this already topsy-turvy world. On opening night, Viola was played by understudy Kate Besworth, who tackled the part with gusto, giving the astute character an endearingly giddy, almost adolescent energy. Viola’s wit and noble spirit earn her new employer Orsino's favour, a wealthy illusionist with enigmatic, rockstarish allure. Played by Aidan Correia with the right dose of melodramatic self-regard, we see him pine tirelessly for Olivia, the most famous of the circus performers.
Queer subtext abounds as the bond between Viola and Orsino evolves from bromance to tension-filled budding attraction. While carrying out her employer’s tasks, the clever Viola catches the eye of the glamorous and sought-after Olivia (Olivia Hutt, bringing poise and a standout singing voice to the role.) Stuck in her own period of mourning, Olivia tries hard to resist, but the headstrong diva finds herself falling head over heels for Viola’s sweet words.
If that love triangle wasn’t enough, the other members of Olivia’s household engage in their own elaborate matters of romance and trickery. Enter the delightfully dour Malvolia (Dawn Petten), gender-flipped to a female character from the original Malvolio and cleverly reimagined as Olivia’s stage manager. Tired of Malvolia’s stick-in-the-mud attitude that cuts their late-night musical jam sessions short, Olivia’s drunkard uncle Sir Toby Belch (Marcus Youssef), her cheekily conniving personal assistant Maria (Evelyn Chew), and another suitor, the bumbling Sir Andrew Aguecheek (a scene-stealing Nathan Kay), fake a letter tricking Malvolia into thinking Olivia is in love with her. Thus begins, as the ringmaster announces, the “Malvolia show”. Without giving too much away, the inventive staging places the trio of tricksters in prime spots to watch as Malvolia falls into their trap. The taunting of the uptight character is so outrageously funny and Petten’s genius characterization and comedic timing so precise, that it’s impossible not to laugh—even if it is all objectively cruel.
This production of Twelfth Night is full of music and circus spectacle. Photo by Tim Matheson
It wouldn’t be a Shakespearean farce without some melancholy mixed with the hilarity. We see heartfelt moments when Viola reunites with Sebastian (Charlie Gallant), the twin brother she thought was dead. The pirate Antonia (Ivy Charles), Sebastian’s devoted friend since the shipwreck, solemnly pours her heart out, heartbroken by Viola’s insistence that they’ve never met, believing Viola to be Sebastian. This mix of fun and sadness finds its heart in Feste (Anton Lipovetsky, who’s also the show’s musical director), the quintessential Shakespearean Fool. With his otherworldly appearance and near-omnipresence, he oversees the antics and wistfully imparts truths through clever reflections and musical interludes.
The show’s original songs, written by Vancouver singer-songwriter Veda Hille, enhance the characters’ emotions and the production’s overall vibe with arrangements that range from rocky to folky to Bauhaus-ian synth, as well as lyrics that stay close to the original text. The opening number, a high-energy anthem to Illyria, sets the stage and makes it clear the characters know they’re performers. Lines like “we live for love, and every day we strive to play to please you” echo through to the end.
The little shadows of existentialism the characters cast are never overwhelmed by the brightness of the humour and the setting. In a different staging, the pranks on Malvolia might serve as a stark commentary on the harshness faced by those who dare to be different and challenge societal conventions. And although there is a sobering moment when Malvolia realizes she’s been duped and curses everyone involved, her love-fuelled transformation—highlighted by a costume change that looks something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show—doesn’t feel entirely like a descent into self-delusion. Instead, it feels like an acceptance of her true self—awkwardness and all. After all, she’s been surrounded by showmen, clowns, and tricksters the whole time.
Pam Johnson’s set design takes the carnival theme beyond spectacle. Little details visually reinforce the foolishness of love: macho displays by Olivia’s suitors sheepishly hammering a strength-testing high striker; declarations of love atop a circus stand; or a plastic swan that the mistaken-identity couples parade—or rather waddle—in. Mara Gottler’s wardrobe is equally spot-on, giving each character a distinct brand of eccentricity and glitz in a colourful tableau of pattern clashes, sequins, top hats, tutus, and to-die-for shoes.
With all these elements and a pitch-perfect ensemble cast, don’t miss out—step right up and grab your tickets. The circus is in town! 
Related Articles
