A whip, a flogger (yes, there is a difference), a feather, nipple pasties, and a fishnet-clad male striptease ending in a ballroom “death drop”—if homoeroticism be the food of love, then “Twelfth Night,” directed by Mei Ann Teo at the Folger Theatre, plays on…BDSM handcuffs and all.
…a neon-lit spectacle that boldly foregrounds Shakespearean themes…bracing, bold, and frequently hilarious…
Following Theatre Prometheus’s recent revival of John Lyly’s “Galatea,” which gently teased Elizabethan gender play, Teo’s “Twelfth Night” doesn’t nod politely. It kicks the door down in thigh-high boots and screams. This is a neon-lit spectacle that boldly foregrounds Shakespearean themes: the disruption of social norms, gender identity fluidity (in Shakespeare’s time, only men could act—so Cesario would have been a man playing a woman pretending to be a man), and a heady brew of love, lust, and liberation. At its core, “Twelfth Night” is a mix of shipwrecks, separated twins, gender disguise, mistaken identity, and chaotic romance. It’s not for the faint of heart—and that’s the point.
The production opens with a breathtaking shipwreck sequence. The storm sounds are part of Be Steadwell’s opening song and sound designer Justin Schmitz’s work (they/he) as they conjure a tempest of echoing howls and crashing rhythms, while plastic covers mimic the roiling sea. Viola, believing her brother Sebastian drowned, dons a male disguise to serve the lovesick Duke Orsino. Orsino sends her (now “Cesario”) to court the grieving Olivia on his behalf—only for Olivia to fall for Cesario, Cesario to fall for Orsino, and Sebastian to reappear, igniting further comedic (and carnal) confusion.
Scenic designer David I. Reynoso’s brutalist concrete scaffolding evokes both castle and prison, creating a sterile yet seductive Illyria under the flickering glow of a neon X. Lighting designer Minjoo Kim (she/her) drenches the stage in nightclub reds, eerie greens, and steamy blues. That pulsing X isn’t just décor—it’s a symbol of crossed wires, cross-dressing, and crossed boundaries. The soundscape—featuring karaoke-style pop, beatbox layering, and soul-folk vocals—is the handiwork of composer Be Steadwell (they/she/he/Be), whose music blurs eras and genres as deftly as Shakespeare blurs gender and identity.
Lilli Hokama (they/she) as Viola is all grit and earnest yearning, emerging from the wreck like a sea-born prince(ss), gasping beneath the fabric waves. Their presence anchors the play’s emotional core.
Alyssa Keegan (they/them) oozes sensual swagger as Orsino. Their entrance, dancing to “If music be the food of love, play on,” is a full-body invocation of lust and longing. Clad in reddish leather and velvet, they grind and collapse to the ground in Shakespearean thirst—sultry, needy, and magnetic.
El Beh (they/them) plays Sebastian with androgynous cool and BDSM flair. In one unforgettable moment, they hand Olivia a pink flogger, guide its tip under their chin, and whisper, “Madam, I will.” Their chemistry with Todd Scofield’s Antonio (whose earlier embroidery hoop and half-kilt-jeans ensemble is a hilarious costume detail) ends in a tender kiss and a transaction: here’s my wallet, meet me at The Elephant. Is that a hotel? Or a toy shop? Either way—it tells us exactly the kind of Illyria we’ve entered.
Alina Collins Maldonado (she/her) steals scenes as a gloriously commanding Olivia—decked in sheer sleeves, black satin, and bedazzled boots, she lounges on a velvet throne like a regency dominatrix. Her tone, full of modern sass (“I heard you were saucy at my gates”), lands like an invitation to battle or bed—or both.
Futaba (he/him) as Feste is a mischievous mood board: bantu knots, clown makeup, a belt of men’s ties, and razor-sharp timing. “Better a witty fool than a foolish wit” hits differently when the fool is clearly the wisest in the room.
Nicholas Yenson (he/him) delivers a Malvolio arc that’s both hilarious and heartrending. He starts off clinging to refinement—substituting expletives with phrases like “Mother Falstaff,” “Henry the Fifth,” and “Go hang yourselves ye all.” But by the time he’s locked in the jail, all pretenses unravel. “Bring me f*** paper and pen and a candle!” he explodes—straight out of Shakespeare and into modern times—and absolutely unbothered. The audience howled.
Tricked by Maria’s (Shubhangi Kuchibhotla, she/her) forged letter, he later appears in a corset, cross-garters, fishnets, and a sheer ruffled robe—crooning “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” before collapsing in a ballroom-style dip (or “death drop,” for Drag Race fans). It’s a spectacle, yes—but also a moment of pathos, especially at the end of the play. Yenson allows us to laugh while still feeling the sting of betrayal.
And the costumes! Designer Olivera Gajic (she/her) pulls from Prince, Grace Jones, Harry Styles, and queer club culture—cheetah print on Sir Toby (Che Kabia, they/them), plaid chaos on Sir Andrew (Hunter Ringsmith, he/him), and enough groin protectors to raise both brows and questions. The show toys with drag, dominance, reverence, and ridicule. It’s camp, couture, and commentary.
Director Mei Ann Teo crafts a “Twelfth Night” that dares to strip the text of its disguises while dressing it in kink. This is a parable of longing, yes—but also of indulgence, transgression, and queer becoming. It flips Shakespearean convention into post-gender liberation. While it’s bracing, bold, and frequently hilarious, it’s not always easy to follow—audiences unfamiliar with the original play may want a quick refresher before diving in. Otherwise, they risk getting lost in the storm. Whether you leave laughing, shocked, aroused, or slightly uncomfortable—you won’t leave unaffected.
Running Time: Approximately two hours and 20 minutes, including one intermission.
Advisory: Includes mature content: sexual innuendo, stylized intimacy, adult language, and simulated alcohol and tobacco use. It also uses haze and strobing lights.
“Twelfth Night” runs through June 22, 2025, at the Folger Shakespeare Theatre, 201 East Capitol Street, SE Washington, DC 20003. For more information and to purchase tickets, please go online.
