Theatre review: Twelfth Night or What You Will(Shakespeare's Globe)

Despite its wintery title the season Twelfth Night is most commonly associated with is Autumn, usually accompanied by some variation of the dreaded phrase "Shakespeare's melancholy farewell to comedy" in the blurb. Well there's certainly something autumnal about Robin Belfield's production at the Globe, but it's more pagan harvest festival than sad falling leaves. Under a gold wooden sun and featuring a wicker man, Jean Chan's design is all brashly colourful carnival outfits. It's a mood that's infected almost everyone in Illyria, including its Duke who's often seen opening the play lounging moodily on cushions. Instead Solomon Israel's Orsino is definitely up for the party, and is just a bit annoyed that the girl he fancies isn't joining in, or returning his interest - and all because she's still in mourning for all the men in her family dropping dead over the course of a couple of months, honestly some people, such drama queens.

Theatre review: More Life

Billed as a sci-fi gothic horror, Lauren Mooney and James Yeatman's More Life is a riff on Frankenstein (something it acknowledges several times) set in 2075, when medical advances have allowed those who can afford them to slow down the ageing process by a couple of deacdes, but haven't quite eliminated human mortality altogether yet. But the next step towards that might just have been taken: Alison Halstead plays a synthetic human that doesn't need to eat, sleep or breathe. Vic (Marc Elliott) and his assistant Mike (Lewis Mackinnon) now need to find the right consciousness to animate it, out of many brains donated to their shadowy organisation over the years. Many can't handle the realisation that they've died and been brought back in a new body, but eventually the scientists find Bridget, a young woman who died in a car crash in 2026 (caused by one of the company's own prototype driverless cars.) A few adjustments to the code that stores her consciousness, and she's ready for a new life.

Theatre review: Princess Essex

Like most years the Globe ends its summer season with a new play, usually one that looks at historical events filtered through very modern concerns. Anne Odeke's Princess Essex doesn't buck that trend: Filling in the gaps in a true story many of whose details remain unknown, the play is inspired by a woman calling herself Princess Dinubolu of Senegal, the first black woman to compete in an English beauty pageant. So the play at times takes unflinching looks at issues of racial discrimination, particularly standards of perceived beauty, colonialism and racial fetishisation; but it does so mostly in the context of a pretty broad and bright comedy, which Robin Belfield's production approaches with energy and tongue in cheek. Odeke plays Joanna, a mixed-race housekeeper who knows nothing about her parents or early life, except that she ended up in the entertainment capital of the world: Southend-on-Sea.