The Royal Shakespeare Company's transfer of its lavish production of 'Twelfth Night' to London's Barbican Centre offers a theatrical feast so rich it risks overwhelming the senses. Directed by Prasanna Puwanarajah, this interpretation of Shakespeare's beloved comedy runs until 17 January 2026 and has divided critics, earning a three-star rating for being as overstuffed as it is opulent.
A Classic Plot Bursting at the Seams
Shakespeare's plot is famously intricate. It follows Viola, who, shipwrecked in Illyria, disguises herself as a man named Cesario, setting off a chaotic chain of mistaken identity and unrequited love involving the Countess Olivia and Duke Orsino. This core is surrounded by a menagerie of characters including the pompous steward Malvolio, the drunken Sir Toby Belch, and the fool, Feste.
Puwanarajah's vision, however, adds multiple layers on top of this already complex framework. The production is set within a massive, high-concept pipe organ designed by James Cotterill, immediately establishing a grand, if peculiar, aesthetic. New songs by chamber pop songwriter Matt Maltese and expansive dance sequences further pad the runtime.
Performance Within a Performance
The central theme appears to be the idea of performance itself. Viola performs as Cesario, Olivia performs her grief, and Malvolio performs the role of a worthy suitor. This concept is most literally embodied by Michael Grady-Hall's Feste, whose role is greatly expanded with lengthy, vaudevillian variety acts. While clever and engaging, these interludes feel tangential to the main narrative, contributing to a sense of indulgence.
Despite the sprawling nature of the production, several performances shine through. Daniel Monks brings a soft, uncertain vulnerability to Orsino, while Samuel West is perfectly officious and deluded as Malvolio. Joplin Sibtain also makes a notable mark with an aggressively alcoholic take on Sir Toby Belch.
Final Verdict: A Decadent Trundle
Clocking in at 2 hours and 55 minutes, this 'Twelfth Night' is a substantial commitment. The critic's analogy is apt: it feels less like a satisfying meal and more like consuming an entire box of luxurious chocolates. The individual elements—stunning design, talented cast, witty additions—are often impressive in isolation. Yet, collectively, they struggle to cohere into a streamlined whole, causing the comedy's pace to trundle where it should zip.
The production remains a significant theatrical event, especially for dedicated Bard enthusiasts. Tickets are priced between £25 and £115, with performances running through the festive period and into the new year at the Barbican Centre, easily accessible via Barbican or Moorgate stations.
