Twelfth Nite Review


		ever mind famed British theater director Trevor Nunn's minimal experience in film directing. His 18 years at the helm of the Royal Shakespeare Company (and soon replacing Richard Eyre as head of the Royal National Theater) have held him in good stead for his beguiling new movie version of Shakespeare's classic romantic comedy of mistaken identities and gender. And he has assembled a near-perfect (and rather starry) British cast which serve him and the text splendidly.
		lthough Twelfth Night is my very favorite of the Bard's comedies, I still went into it with my usual fear of two specific kinds of directorial tinkering: updating and the tendency to play for too easy, broad laughs. Happily, my fears were groundless. Nunn has updated the play -- but to 1890. And the matter of gender confusion within a Victorian context not only makes sense, but adds an extra ironic frisson. There are surprisingly few easy laughs, for Nunn has taken great pains to situate even the most boisterous clowning around of, say, Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek within a greater context of romantic longing and/or loss. The overall effect, accentuated here by some gorgeous shots of golden light falling over trees whose leaves are turning, is autumnal, with just a trace of melancholy -- and it is lovely.
		ccasionally, Nunn falls prey to the Kenneth Branagh school of Shakespearian filmmaking -- loud music crashing away on the soundtrack. But, mercifully, it's kept to a minimum (the only place the use of music really hurts is in Viola's emotionally charged outpouring to Orsino "My father had a daughter loved a man..." Surely Shakespeare's heartbreaking poetry in this pivotal speech is all the music one needs). The text is kept pretty much intact, though certain scenes, particularly the Viola/Orsino scenes, are split up and intercut with other scenes, to a slightly weakening effect.