SOURCE: "The Illusions and Frenzies of Love," in The Times, London, April 21, 1983, p. 13.

Quite a deal of poison has been seeping into this play over the past few years, but John Caird's production is the first I have seen that projects Twelfth Night as an all-out dark comedy.

This is good news not only for jaded old spectators who have seen the piece too often. There is a limit to the amount of fun that can be extracted from the drinking scene and permutations of Malvolio's letter in a play that was never more than intermittently uproarious. And there is everything to be said for muting the comedy for once and giving full attention to the central matter of the illusions and frenzies of love.

Illyria in this version contracts to a love shrine. Robin Don (making his Stratford debut) offers a gloomy rock-strewn promontory flanked by an...