This production reimagines Twelfth Night through the living ritual of Trinidad Carnival, where mas, music, and movement transform Shakespeare’s world into a band in motion. Here, Illyria unfolds across Carnival Monday and Tuesday — a space where identity is fluid, love is reckless, and order dissolves before it is restored.

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Carnival is not decoration in this production; it is the engine of the story. Mas allows characters to conceal who they are while revealing who they truly desire.

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Orsino appears as a flamboyant Fancy Sailor Captain, opening the play like a showtime performance, delivering “If music be the food of love” to the pulse of pan and brass. His excess sets the tone for a world ruled by emotion, spectacle, and performance. A stylised storm interrupts the band, separating twins Viola and Sebastian and launching the narrative into disguise.

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Viola survives through transformation, entering Orsino’s court as the junior Fancy Sailor Cesario. Her masquerade fuels the central love triangle: Olivia, envisioned as a regal Dame Lorraine, falls for Cesario, while Orsino confides in the very person he does not yet recognise as his equal — their connection expressed through playful extempo battles.

 

Within Olivia’s household, Carnival chaos reigns. Sir Toby emerges as a drunken Jab Molassie, Sir Andrew as a foolish Fancy Sailor, and Maria, sharp and unmasked, orchestrates events from the margins as the Jammette.

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Malvolio, dressed as a Midnight Robber, resists Carnival’s joy. His transformation into a boastful Robber — inseparable from his whistle of authority — is both hilarious and unsettling, revealing the fragility of order. Feste appears as a Pierrot Grenade, Carnival’s conscience, observing and unsettling the world with wit, song, and riddles. He reminds us that wisdom often wears foolish clothes.

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The production culminates in Carnival Tuesday’s Last Lap. The band returns. Masks fall. Twins stand mirrored. Viola reveals herself. Music surges — then stops — when Malvolio re-enters to confront the cruelty done to him. Only then can reconciliation begin.

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The play ends not in silence, but in motion: a final Last Lap celebrating love, identity, survival, and revelation.

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This adaptation honours Shakespeare’s comic structure while grounding it in Caribbean performance traditions, making Twelfth Night immediate, culturally resonant, and theatrically explosive.

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It leaves us with a timeless question, carried on a familiar rhythm:
Who are we when the mask comes off — and who do we become when we are finally seen?