"Some are born great.

Some achieve greatness.

And some have greatness thrust upon them." Oh Malvolio

I really didn't expect to have such a profound affection for this. Typically, most comedy fails to resonate with me, but Shakespearean comedy is truly outrageously funny. Merely reading this play only provides a partial understanding. I firmly believe that this is a play that absolutely must be witnessed in a live performance as well. I had the pleasure of watching a DVD version of the recent Globe production, and I was nearly rolling on the floor of my living room with laughter. It boasted an all-male cast, which somehow enhanced the experience even further. Mark Rylance as Olivia was nothing short of pure comic genius, and Stephen Fry as Malvolio was delightfully awkward and hilarious. It was simply astonishing.

The scene with the yellow stockings was堪称完美. Malvolio is smitten with Olivia, and as a prank, several knights play a trick on him. Olivia loathes the color yellow, yet they tell him that she adores it and that it makes her weak in the knees. As a result, Malvolio procures a nice, large pair of yellow stockings and flaunts them in her presence. She is disgusted by both the stockings and him; she then tells him to go to bed, which he misinterprets as "let's go to bed together." Consequently, he attempts his luck and ultimately ends up in a rather amusing-looking prison cell. That is just one small aspect of the plot, but arguably one of the funniest. I couldn't envision a better Malvolio than Stephen Fry; he came across as pedantic, arrogant, and amorous. It's a rather comical combination.

Love is a capricious and awkward entity. It is often won by accident and chance. All the deliberately sought-after love in this play is denied, while all the accidental love is pursued and granted. Viola/Cesario falls in love with Orsino while endeavoring to persuade Olivia to love Orsino, which leads to Olivia falling in love with Viola/Cesario. It's a complex and ironic love triangle, which is only resolved by it acquiring another dimension and transforming into a love square. Sebastian, Viola's brother, arrives, and Olivia mistakes him for Viola; she "saves" him from a group of knights and proclaims her love to him. Sebastian is confused and bewildered as he has never seen this woman before in his life; she swoons over him and claims him as hers. It's all very humorous and a bit of a headache if you've never read this play. Mistaken identity is the cause of all this chaos. Viola is pretending to be a man, which makes her resemble her brother and leads to the comic confusion.

This may sound convoluted, but it's not. It's perhaps one of the easiest of Shakespeare's plays to follow, especially if you struggle with that sort of thing. The all-male cast of the Globe production made the gender divides even more peculiar. There was a man portraying a female character who was pretending to be a man. It was all so excellent. Olivia was melodramatic and ridiculously exaggerated as a female, which made the production absurdly entertaining. If you have a few spare hours and are in need of a good laugh, I wholeheartedly recommend watching it.

I'm truly glad that I had the opportunity to read this in class. Otherwise, I might not have gained much from it. Shakespeare is, of course, Shakespeare, but I am also myself, and I know my tastes quite well. Before reading this, I thought, "Bro, I love certain pieces of your work, but I'm fairly certain this is not going to have a honeymoon ending." Comedies often make me nervous with their excessive glee, joy, and soap bubble ideologies. While the playwright did some wonderfully complex things with gender and the tropes of romance, this play would have been much better seen rather than read. The resulting decrease in reading comprehension and increase in visual hilarity would have made the actual honeymoon ending (is that really a spoiler? It's a comedy, after all) of the play closer to my own enjoyment.

I didn't start seriously contemplating this play until the first group presentation. (This and 'King Lear' are being taught with groups taking apart an act a piece. Group work. Ugh.) They put forward a discussion question about Orsino's ridiculous conceptions of romance. The great thing about these survey courses is that my brain's natural inclination to store away my most recent readings for random connection time with future reads becomes useful for more than just review writing. Before the class reached Shakespeare, we were studying King Arthur and Sir Gawain and all that religiously strictured socioeconomic academics like to call 'courtly love', a mental state that many a male sonnet writer in the line of Spencer and Raleigh utilized, and those such as Wroth and Shakespeare made a mockery of. Shakespeare does a lot more to deconstruct the ideals of love and its lot in his sonnets than in this particular play, but picking up on subtle critiques propagates its own breed of readerly pleasure.

As for the gender aspect, I'm also getting this from others in terms of character foils, which I rarely pay attention to and may need to start doing so in light of what can be derived from this work. If you think about it, Viola and Olivia are the sort of characters that rarely coexist because, at their most basic tenets, they're the same character archetype. They're both young, they're both within the same class bracket, they were both raised with brothers and are at the time of the play completely without parents. The clincher, of course, is that they're both female, a gender that is rarely going to be differentiated along complex and humanizing lines by the creator because, frankly, it's not going to be necessary with all the well-wrought men running around. The reason why this is worthy of note is how both characters would normally have both been rich, wilting, delicate flower beauty types, making out the condition as a natural tendency of women rather than the inevitable result of a constricting and emotionally deprived situation. Except, well, they're not. Sure, Viola disguises herself as a man, but no one catches her out for acting in such a way that could not be anything other than "womanly".

For further character foil business, see Malvolio and the treatment of his acted-out fantasies versus Viola's fully embraced desires of illusion and dreams. One cannot expect to play only half the fool and fully win the day.

"If music be the food of love, play on."

“Twelfth Night” is likely one of Shakespeare's most renowned plays. I don't plan to elaborate much on the plot, except to mention that it involves a case of mistaken identity and a kind of love 'triangle'.

'Twelfth Night' contains some of the most famous lines in English literature. However, personally, I felt that the device of mistaken identity was a bit of a stretch, even for twins, and it simply wasn't as humorous as another comedy, “A Midsummer Night's Dream”. Nevertheless, it does have several very funny moments. In particular, those involving two scheming drunken Lords, Sir Toby Belch (kinsman to Olivia) and Sir Andrew Aguecheek (a Don Quixote-like knight). And as always, one just has to relax and admire the writing.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.” This line from the play also adds to its charm and depth, making us think about the different ways in which people come to possess greatness.

This book is about the story of the only survivor of a sunken ship. The author, Gabriel Marquez, first published the story in small installments in a magazine after listening to the survivor's account of his struggle. Later, the entire story was published as a book.

The courage and the impossible will to survive of this survivor have fascinated me. For ten whole days in the open sea, alone, without any food, without water, wandering around in a lifeboat! Reading the book, one can understand how strong his willpower was to survive in the midst of all these hardships.

Since there was no food, he ate shellfish, raw fish meat, and even chewed on his shoes! Can you imagine?

When he returned to the local area, he became quite rich. People came to see him in groups. Although many considered his story to be false, his story brought him a lot of money.

Finally, he said that he would not want to go on such an adventure again for any amount of money!

Thoughts two seconds after having finished Twelfth Night:

Everybody was gay, and then, in the blink of an eye, the next thing you know, it was like, “guess we’re not?” Honestly, it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever read by Shakespeare. It’s not that nothing made sense, but rather that there were a whole bunch of secondary stories colliding with each other to form this main one. At times, it was really difficult to follow.

But yeah, it went from “welcome to the land of gays” to “no homo” in a nano second. For nearly the entire story, I thought we would get a f/f relationship. But then, huh, “it’s Shakespeare, Romie, you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

Basically, it’s a 2 or 2.25 read. It had its moments of confusion and unexpected twists, but overall, it was an interesting exploration of love, gender, and identity. Shakespeare really knew how to keep his audiences on their toes!

Twins: Freaky or Fun?

Twelfth Night is Shakespeare's answer to that age-old question. It's a play filled with mistaken identities, love triangles, and comical misunderstandings.


Viola and Sebastian are twins who, after a shipwreck, find themselves separated. Viola disguises herself as a man named Cesario and enters the service of Duke Orsino. The Duke, in love with Olivia, sends Cesario to woo her on his behalf. However, Olivia falls in love with Cesario, not realizing it's actually Viola.


Meanwhile, Sebastian arrives in Illyria and is mistaken for Cesario by Olivia. She proposes to him, and they get married. When the truth finally comes out, there is chaos and confusion, but in the end, everything is resolved, and there are happy endings for all.


The play also features a subplot involving Olivia's Uncle Toby, his drinking buddy Andrew, and Olivia's maid Maria. They play a prank on Malvolio, a self-righteous steward, which leads to some hilarious moments.


Overall, Twelfth Night is a fun and entertaining play that showcases Shakespeare's talent for creating complex characters and engaging storylines. It's a classic that has been enjoyed by audiences for centuries and continues to be relevant today.

I always experience a twinge of guilt whenever I come across these “Elizabethan English alongside modern English” versions of Shakespeare’s plays. While it is wonderful to appreciate the beautiful language of that era, it is truly amazing to actually understand what is happening.

This play has always seemed to be on the periphery of his works, in my opinion. It is not as prominent as The Merchant of Venice or some of the rather dull histories. However, I never thought it was on the same level of notoriety as Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet. It definitely doesn't seem to be performed as frequently either.

But as it turns out, it is great fun! The cross-dressing, the numerous love triangles (or perhaps squares?), unrequited love, insta-love, and rom-com-level misunderstandings all contribute to making this a wild and crazy ride. One has to suspend disbelief and then can begin to appreciate the layers of subtle commentary. You need to look closely, or you'll miss it.

Of course, the sub-plot is as boring as can be (as is often the case in his plays). All the sidekick boys were extremely annoying and I could never keep them straight. Malvolio, Belch, Aguecheek, Feste - You could eliminate all the scenes with them and not lose anything significant (the same goes for other comedic relief in his plays - Rosencranz and Guildenstern, for example). The girl characters are where the real action is. Viola, Olivia, Maria - There are fascinating things going on in their minds, and they don't tolerate anyone's foolishness.

What a truly beautiful gay fiasco this is!

The proportions of it are such that only a genius like Shakespeare could manage to pull it off with such finesse.

It's a hilariously irreverent play that not only tickles our funny bones but also serves as a precise staging of desire and gender.

It defies and thwarts all kinds of established conventions, challenging our preconceived notions and making us look at these aspects from a whole new perspective.

Shakespeare was simply, certifiably, That Bitch™️.

His ability to create such complex and engaging works that push the boundaries of what is considered acceptable is truly remarkable.

He had the courage to explore themes that were often taboo in his time, and his plays continue to resonate with audiences today, centuries after they were first written.

Shakespeare's genius lies in his ability to capture the essence of human nature and the human condition, and to present it in a way that is both entertaining and thought-provoking.

His works are a testament to his creativity, his imagination, and his unwavering commitment to the art of storytelling.

We are truly fortunate to have his plays as a part of our cultural heritage, and we should continue to study and appreciate them for generations to come.

My younger son's primary school staged a production of Twelfth Night when he was around 10 years old.

The majority of the cast was of an average standard, as one might anticipate. However, the child who portrayed Malvolio was truly outstanding.

He outshone everyone else to such an extent that it was not even fair to draw comparisons. He single-handedly carried the entire show and it was a remarkable success.

The teachers were well aware that they had a star in their midst and had pre-determined to record the performance.

At the conclusion of the evening, they announced that DVDs would be available for sale at, I believe, £5 each.

Like a good half of the audience, we eagerly handed over our money without hesitation.

But, alas! A day later, a sheepish announcement was made that, due to a technical glitch, there would be no DVD.

Perhaps they had forgotten to remove the lens cap or something similar. I am especially irritated because I cannot recall the name of the kid.

Consequently, I am unable to determine if he did indeed make it in the show business.

Certainly, I felt that he had a good chance of achieving success in that field.

**Title: A Review of "Twelfth Night" by Shakespeare**

\\n  "Nothing that is so is so."\\n

- Act IV, scene I



At the start of this year, when I reviewed \\n  As You Like It\\n, I emphasized that it was likely the last play Shakespeare wrote in the 16th century and symbolically the end of his silly romantic comedies, marking a transition to his more profound later works. It was a nice idea for a review, and it felt serendipitous as it was also the last Shakespeare play I read before the 2010s became the 2020s. But as it turns out, it was mostly untrue.

For some reason, before reading Twelfth Night, I thought it was one of Shakespeare's melancholy pseudo-comedies, more like the tonally ambiguous problem plays such as The Winter's Tale or The Tempest rather than his early goofy stuff. And while there is a hint of darkness, most of it is implied. Malvolio, who is maliciously pranked, storms off stage swearing revenge, and Antonio, the reformed pirate, may be left to languish in prison after risking it all for his best pal boyfriend.

But mostly, Twelfth Night is Shakespeare doing what he could do with ease after a decade or so in the comedy-writing business. Love triangles, clowns, pranks, puns, drinking, drag, songs, gay subtext - it's all there. It's fun, but for me, the comedies are rarely Shakespeare's best, and after nine plays with these tropes, it's hard to get excited about the tenth. Especially after As You Like It, which I still believe is the ideal for this type of play.

Luckily, Twelfth Night is still Shakespeare, meaning that along with the brilliant language, whatever it lacks in original plotting, it almost makes up for in tantalizing hints and thematic undercurrents. The gay subtext is more prevalent than in some of his earlier comedies, but I thought the gender play and homoerotic flirtations were more compelling in As You Like It. The hetero pairings in the final scene are tidier and less satisfying than in most Shakespeare comedies, straining the reader's suspension of disbelief.

I'm fascinated by religion in Shakespeare's time, and I was surprised when Malvolio was explicitly described as a puritan. It's no surprise that Shakespeare would hate the puritans, who were always trying to close down the theaters. But Shakespeare also makes it clear that Malvolio is more pathetic than anything else and doesn't deserve such a cruel punishment.

As I write this, I'm starting to wonder about the drunken Fools and tavern-dwellers in Shakespeare's middle-period plays. Sir Toby is like a dialed-down Falstaff, and his drinking buddies would fit in with the merry pranksters of the \\n  Henry IV\\n plays. Maybe there is more to these clown-y parts than I usually assume. There seems to be a mixture of celebration and guilt in these boisterous scenes, as if Shakespeare is revealing a bit of himself. But this is all speculation.

Anyway, as usual, I've said more about a work I found fairly mediocre than I would have if I'd loved it. But it shows what intrigues me about Shakespeare and what keeps me coming back. Even when the plays aren't transcendent, they're still keys to a world of interesting thought.

“Twelfth Night” is, perhaps, the most comprehensive of all the Shakespearean comedies I have read thus far. Its structure and thematic scope are both remarkable, bordering on the darkest side of his greatest tragedies.

Unlike his earlier comedies that sometimes bordered on shallow hedonism, this play begins with a shipwreck on the coast of the fictional town of Illyria. The twins, Viola and Sebastian, were on board the doomed vessel. Amidst the chaos, they lose sight of each other and both assume the other is dead. A series of improbable events then unfold, leading to several impersonations and mistaken identities that involve gender and class transformation. Viola disguises herself as a male servant in the court of Duke Orsino, who is vainly obsessed with the maiden Olivia. Olivia's grief for her lost brother prevents her from reciprocating the Duke's passion. Against all expectations, Viola becomes the Duke's confidant and gradually wins not only his heart but also Olivia's, creating a humorous situation that defies logic, as seen in Orsino's frustrated lament:

“One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!
A natural perspective, that is, and is not!”
Act V, scene 2.

The action of this play is somewhat disjointed, and the characters seem to act on impulse. This trait stands in sharp contrast to the deliberation shown by the most iconic protagonists in Shakespeare's body of work. The main allure of this comedy should not be sought in the parallel plots or the complex web of misidentified identities that challenge gender biases and preconceived notions about sexual orientation, heartbreak, grief, or mockery. Instead, it lies in the musicality of the language, which shines brightest in Orsino's speeches and the Fool's wise interludes.

The riotous undertone of this wild play appeals to the contradictions within us all, those that keep us awake at night, tossing and turning, wondering what we truly expect from life, about the longing to love and be loved, but mainly about the hidden desires that we dare not bring to the surface. Shakespeare never shied away from these. He challenges us to be brave, face them, and make our next step “what we will.”