I have been fortunate to see three performances of Twelfth Night: an all-male, “original practices” version produced by London’s Globe Theater, a mixed gender performance at the Guthrie and, now, an all-female show by remarkable Ten Thousand Things, an unconventional troupe who take stripped-down classic theater into prisons, homeless shelters and family centers. All three pleased me. But most memorable are the single-gender Globe production and Ten Thousand Things’s current merry mix-up.

In both single-gender shows, I surrendered to the enchantments of Illyria in a matter of minutes, essentially letting go of the cross-playing. When roles are thoroughly embraced, actual gender becomes irrelevant, regardless of whether it is men impersonating women, one of whom then, as a woman, impersonates a man (swallow that!) or, women playing men, one of them a dramatic impersonation of a man.

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night tells of Viola, a beautiful young noblewoman who survives a shipwreck and is washed up on the shores of Illyria. She believes her identical twin brother has been drowned. To be safe in a strange land, she assumes the role of a beardless eunuch, names herself Cesario and enters the service of the Duke Orsino. Powerful Orsino courts the young countess Olivia, who has recently lost her father and brother. Under the excuse of bereavement, Olivia refuses Orsino’s advances. But when eloquent Cesario comes courting on the behalf of Orsino, Olivia is instantly smitten with the young servant. However, Viola, as Cesario, falls in love with Orsino, creating an impossible love triangle. Meanwhile, Sebastian, Viola’s twin brother, is saved from the shipwreck and enters town, adding a new level of mayhem to the happy confusion of mistaken identities. And, being Shakespeare, subplots abound.

In a bare classroom at Family Perspectives, with a faint smell of cooked food in the air and ordinary room lighting, Michelle Hensley directs her strong all-female cast with paced panache. She has pared the script to a show that lasts two hours and 10 minutes. Gone are minor characters like Fabian and Curio, but the poetry and the plot lines are clear and accessible, and the whole is delightfully playful.

The small audience sits in a square and frames the stage space. Erica Zaffarano’s simple shapes of twined piping, twisted into vine-like forms are the only set pieces. The play opens on Orsino’s glorious speech, “If music be the food of love, play on,” and Sally Wingert, as the Count, holding an iPod, removes one ear bud and places it in Cesario’s ear. It’s a deliciously intimate moment, overlaid with faint homoerotic whiffs. The audience knows that these are two attractive people who are of the opposite sex in the story, but Orsino has no idea as he listens intently to music unheard by the audience, his forehead practically touching breathless Cesario’s. Wingert and Kate Eifrig as Cesario hold the moment and capture that unperceived attraction.

Expressive Eifrig plays both Viola and Sebastian, so that the identical look of the two twins and the confusion it engenders is entirely convincing. How this is accomplished when both Viola and Sebastian meet on stage I won’t say. But it is clever.

Almost everyone plays at least two roles and some, four. But with costuming, shifts in tone of voice and manner, characters become instantly recognizable, their ready versatility, adding to the charm of the production.

Outstanding as a chameleon of versatility is Barbara Kingsley. She is Orsino’s Parkinsonian manservant, well past his sell-by-date; she’s Malvolio, Olivia’s supercilious and Puritanical steward, then an officer of the law, and finally, priest.

Sonja Parks plays very female Olivia and the very male sea captain. Deft Sally Wingert switches from being manly Orsino to being pretty Maria, Olivia’s mischievous lady-in-waiting. As Feste, the wise fool, Maggie Chestovich sings and plays the ukulele well, and she also becomes the unfortunate Antonio. Isabell Monk O’Connor has obvious fun in her full embrace of meaty Sir Toby Belch, Olivia’s rowdy uncle; she’s a man in her movements, her big voice, her backslapping and general drunkenness. When Marie announces her secret marriage to Toby, Monk O’Connor’s tippling knight looks to the heavens and roles his (her) eyes in a yes-the wench-caught-me sort of moment. Elastic-limbed Kimberly Richardson, Sir Toby’s sidekick, plays the feeble Sir Andrew Aguecheek as a stringy half-wit.

Sonya Berlovitz dressed the show in whimsical, timeless costumes. The characters don scarves, remove them and thread then on the vine-like set pieces to become Olivia’s flower gardens. A sense of magical unreality floods this whimsical Twelfth Night aided, by Peter Vitale’s ethereal music, which sounds as I imagine the music of the spheres to sound.

The cast is having so much fun that it infects the audience, whom the players confide in, sit beside and appeal to for advice. With the play practically in the lap of the audience, this Twelfth Night has an immediacy that is irresistible. And it’s laugh-aloud funny.

Twelfth Night October 9 - 30, 2008. All free performances sold out. Public performances Friday to Sundays at Open Book, 8:00 p.m. Tickets $20. Call 612- 203-9502, or online at www.tenthousandthings.org. Ten Thousand Things, Open Book, 110, Washington Avenue, Minneapolis.

- Elizabeth Weir

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