DRAMATURG’S NOTE

This rootin’, tootin’ Wild West adaptation of Twelfth Night is the culmination of years of imagining between myself and director co-creator David Grapes.  The project first popped into our heads when we began collaborating at the Tennessee Repertory Theatre in 2000, and I am excited that we can finally bring it to the stage for you.

David and I have worked together on several “concept” Shakespeare productions over the years, including a futuristic Romeo and Juliet, a rock and roll Taming of the Shrew set in 1950s American suburbia, and a Rousseau-inspired tropical Tempest.  When we began discussing what new setting might best suit Twelfth Night, the Wild West seemed a natural fit for this classic romantic comedy, as images of wagon trains, cyclones, comic duels at high noon, and saloon showgirls quickly began to imprint themselves on the characters and situations

While this initial inspiration proved fruitful, we knew that Twelfth Night would require careful consideration when transposing it out of its traditional historical setting, for several reasons. First and foremost, it demands a social environment in which the main female character can believably take full advantage of her androgyny in order to pass undetected in a world of men. While sexual roles in the Wild West are fairly well-defined, we decided to capitalize on its history, which is full of characters such as Annie Oakley and Calamity Jane who buck society’s stereotypes of women. Not only did this provide us with a means to reinterpret Viola, but it also allowed us to liberate Olivia, Maria, and gender-switched saloon girl Fabian as strong women who can draw a pistol with as much speed and accuracy, not to mention down a shot of whiskey without blinking an eye, as any of the men in the play

Secondly, Twelfth Night is one of the most song-filled plays of the Shakespearean canon, and David and I knew that music had to play a major role in defining the new world we were crafting for the text.  Because one of the most identifiable images of the Wild West is that of the “singing cowboy,” we looked to Gene Autry and Roy Rogers for inspiration, and found that the music in our version of the play could not be confined to the role of the clown Feste (whose transformation to “Festus” was a no-brainer, for fans of Gunsmoke).  Once we settled on Orsino’s character type as a sheriff residing over a town with little, if any, crime to attend to, we knew that the key to the musical framework of the play would be found in the voices of a barbershop quartet of deputies who could also assist with scene transitions by singing songs of the open range made popular by the Sons of the Pioneers.

Shakespeare paints Malvolio (whose name literally means “ill will”) as an irrepressible Puritan, one of the religious and political zealots who successfully closed the public theatres in London on numerous occasions, on the grounds of legislated morality. Thus, as a surrogate for this artistic intolerance, it is natural that Shakespeare asserts that Malvolio’s ridiculous hypocrisy deserves to be punished. Our Malvolio has been transformed into a stern prairie minister, full of hell-fire and brimstone, whose ambition becomes trumped by his love for Olivia. His unrequited passion stands in sharp contrast to the ease with which the main characters fall in and out of love, and the punishment he is meted out by Toby and Maria’s pranks does seem a bit cruel. Yet, at the end of the day, it is nothing more than an assertion that good will trumps bad, and a sense of humor trumps a sense of moral superiority, and that there is as much a place for a drinking song in this world as there is for Sunday hymns.

- Robert Neblett