I did not know that a fusion of Shakespeare and pop-punk bangers was missing from my life. I didn’t even realise I wanted it. And yet, Olli Gilford’s production of Twelfth Night hit that apparent gap in the market with such precision that I haven’t stopped listening to their chosen soundtrack since.
The Great Gatsby, with its stunning eloquence, complex characters and mirage of excess, is not ideally suited for stage adaptation. The text of the play relies too heavily upon the poeticism of Nick’s monologues to bridge the gaps between haphazardly strung together key scenes from the book. Therefore, this must have been an incredibly difficult piece for the whole team to have worked with, and the limitations placed upon the actors and director because of the script were evident throughout this production.
According to Oli Savage, it’s a cursed week. His actor was late to rehearsal. The room he walked into was cluttered with scones, tea, and more chairs than you could possibly guess. By his own admissions, his hands are covered in blisters after trying to work on his van over the weekend. But for a man with a curse, Oli Savage is surprisingly chipper. Not surprising, given that he’s got, as far as I’m aware, 2 projects on the go, not to mention being on OTR committee, teching for the Revue, being in a band and running his own theatre company. With that much on, being anything other than chipper is just admitting defeat.