By bestowing Twelfth Night with the alternate title What You Will, Shakespeare gave directors a more than usually free hand. Viola's opening question – "What country, friend, is this?" – is particularly pertinent here, as the palm trees and peeling stucco feel far removed from the wintry wonderlands that usually accompany the play.
Director Paulette Randall has transplanted the action to Brazil – specifically, the old Portuguese colonial capital of Pelourinho, now a picturesque tourist trap, but once the centre of the South American slave trade. And by casting the play with black actors, she hints at the colony's troubled history – Pelourinho itself refers to the pillory where slaves were punished.
Brazilian Shakespeare may sound nuts: in fact, the play shimmies remarkably well to a samba rhythm, while the patois-inflected accents give the verse an unusual but far from displeasing lilt. In fairness, it's a world that sits more easily with the capers of Sir Toby and his cronies than with the chilly repression of Olivia's household. And the whole thing is almost capsized by a show-stealing turn from Seun Shote as Antonio.
Tracey Saunders's Olivia and Rebecca Herod's Viola make an attractive pair. David Webber's Sir Toby is a rotund delight, nicely offset by Nicholai La Barrie's dreadlocked Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Marcus Powell's ludicrously cross-gartered Malvolio seems not only to have abandoned his senses, but taken up golf. The performances are so laidback that pacing becomes an issue. It seems bizarre to place an interval shortly before the final act – why not run it all the way through? But for sheer style and skilful display, there are times when Randall's production is just like watching Brazil.
