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Last fall alone, Regis's Shakespeare class could, in the span of one trimester, have decided between Julius Caesar, Twelfth Night, Macbeth, Richard III, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Romeo and Juliet. Not willing to let this opportunity pass by, we decided to go to not one but two productions last year, settling upon Twelfth Night and A Midsummer Night's Dream. My one concern was that we were seeing two comedies. But these productions could not have been further apart. Nor, I'd argue, could they have been any better.
Twelfth Night was the critical darling of the season, and rightly so. Rylance as Viola was spectacular, but Fry was his equal as the stern but secretly sensitive Malvolio. With its all-male, cross-dressing cast, with its candelit atmosphere, with its period costume and makeup, with its seats on the stage, Twelfth Night allowed my students to experience, as best as possible, how Shakespeare's own company might have performed at the indoor Blackfriars theatre. There was an utter fidelity in the production to both the play and the period. With the exception of perhaps amplification an the dim houselights, one could feel transported in time to 1606.
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So, in a sense, we experienced two very different ways that a director might interpret and present Shakespeare's work. On the one hand, Rylance and company were letting the delightful language and the play's sheer fun speak for itself, provide the only magic needed. On the other hand, the play -- without its linguistic power being diminished -- became a platform for an altogether beautiful and moving and disturbing production. Again, two very different plays. Yet both did Shakespeare more than justice.