Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Jennifer Dick

Review by Dominic Corr

Bard in the Botanics

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night has long thrived on contradiction. It is a play that delights in confusion while searching for clarity, one that embraces absurdity while quietly examining loneliness, desire and identity. In Bard in the Botanics’ latest production, director Jennifer Dick leans confidently into those competing impulses, delivering an interpretation that feels relaxed, accessible and warmly entertaining without sacrificing the emotional foundations that make the comedy endure. It’s, perhaps, one of Bards’ most accessible points of Shakespeare’s language and stories in a fair time.

Set against the natural backdrop of Glasgow Botanic Gardens, the production benefits enormously from its environment; and if anything expands into the surrounding trees and foliage. If not for the winds of Clyde; you’d swear it could be Illyria. Heather Grace Currie’s design creates an immediate sense of openness, allowing Illyria to feel less like a distant fictional destination and more like a living, breathing community. Rather than competing with the surroundings, the design works alongside them. A deceptively simple structure dominated by shutters, balconies and climbing foliage evokes the coastal world of the play with impressive efficiency, transforming throughout the evening as colours and visual details emerge to reflect shifting moods and relationships.

Dick wisely avoids burdening the production with an overly conceptual framework. Instead, the emphasis remains on storytelling and character. The result is a Twelfth Night that trusts Shakespeare’s text while finding fresh opportunities for humour and connection. There is a distinctly Scottish sensibility woven throughout, not through forced reinvention but through tone – playful, self-aware and entirely comfortable allowing moments of improvised spontaneity to sit alongside the verse. 

At the centre of the production is Rebecca Robin’s Viola, offering a performance anchored in warmth and intelligence. Robin navigates the character’s emotional complexity with assurance, ensuring that Viola’s predicament never becomes lost amidst the surrounding chaos. Her interactions with Johnny Panchaud’s Orsino provide a steady emotional thread, grounding a narrative otherwise populated by larger-than-life personalities. Panchaud brings a measured sincerity to Orsino while also doubling effectively as Antonio, creating two distinct figures within the same performance. 

The comic energy, however, belongs largely to the supporting ensemble. A fantastic debut for Bard in The Botanics, Lawrence Boothman proves particularly impressive as Feste, balancing mischief and insight with remarkable ease. His musical contributions become highlights of the evening, delivered with confidence and charisma; and turn Illyria into a dangerously close Mamma Mia! Spin-off. The character’s role as observer and provocateur is maintained throughout, allowing Boothman to bridge many of the production’s tonal shifts seamlessly. His secondary role as Sebastian is equally assured, creating a clear distinction between the two characters despite their close narrative connection.

Not to be outdone, Lauren Ellis-Steele’s musical prowess rears itself through the shows finale, at the back-end of a performance which is a masterpiece in comedic facial expression, delivery, and a commad of the stage which puts the boys to task as they deliver an Olivia with presence and autonomy, while maintaining a personality and comprehensive action. Elsewhere, Stephen Arden offers a refreshingly sympathetic Malvolio. While the role often becomes little more than a vehicle for ridicule, Arden uncovers the character’s vulnerability, making his humiliation genuinely uncomfortable at points. The famous yellow-stockinged descent into chaos lands effectively precisely because it emerges from a recognisably human desire for affection and acceptance.

The comic trio of James Boal’s Sir Toby Belch, Tiare Hamilton’s Maria, Star Penders’ Sir Andrew Aguecheek generates much of the production’s momentum when apart from the principle leads. Their scenes crackle with chemistry, creating the kind of organised disorder upon which the play depends. Penders, in particular, embraces Sir Andrew’s earnest foolishness with infectious enthusiasm, while Hamilton brings sharp intelligence to Maria’s manipulations.

If there is a slight limitation, it lies in the production’s preference for charm over deeper exploration. Certain emotional undercurrents – particularly around identity, grief and longing – occasionally give way to broader comedy. It comes in the latter half; where these often-comedic performers demonstrate their excellent and tested drama and emotional core; especially from Arden, Robin, and Panchaud.

What emerges is an immensely amiable production that understands precisely what outdoor Shakespeare can offer. It captures the communal spirit of the text, allowing humour, music and romance to flourish naturally against a summer backdrop. Bard in the Botanics continues to demonstrate why it remains one of Scotland’s most beloved institutions, and a stellar model of the long-abandoned (semi)repertoire model. This Twelfth Night may not push for radical reinvention, but it succeeds through confidence, clarity and an undeniable sense of fun; a celebration of craft and community that makes Shakespeare sing anew.

---