Is it Shakespeare? No. Is it epic theatre, melodrama, burlesque? A horror show? Maybe. Is it good or bad? There are no clear answers. One thing is certain… This production is camp! Watching Twelfth Night: LGBTQ+ teenage edition feels like staring at a child’s finger painting—chaotic, confusing, and nothing like what it was trying to emulate. Yet, it radiates with an unfiltered joy in creation that is, somehow, magnetic. 

As you step onto the Logan Park High School campus, a man plays the violin off-key. He follows the last of the audience inside, still playing. Is he part of the show? No one acknowledges him. This is the first of many surreal moments in what quickly becomes an experience rather than a play. The lights go dark. From the back of the auditorium, an actor enters in white ‘masked’ makeup, plucking at a lyre. The rest of the cast is illuminated atop black boxes in full Brechtian fashion. And then—whiplash—a Britney Spears “…Baby One More Time“-esque prologue launches the show, leaving you wondering, “what adult let this happen?”

The dialogue is a jumble of Shakespearean English and Mean Girls. It’s fun, but layered atop epic theatre techniques like multi-role doubling, it turns the storytelling into a puzzle—one that doesn’t quite piece together. The cast is individually strong, yet there’s no cohesive stylistic thread: Maria and Feste channel ‘90s teen movies, Olivia moves like a marionette, and Orsino is a strong impression of a dude-bro. The conflicting styles of acting contributed to the overall disorder.

The humour in this Twelfth Night is sharp — often brilliantly ironic — but much of it seems to fly over the heads of the mostly parental audience, many of whom, I assume, were still processing the prologue. The younger crowd, however, enjoyed it immensely.

What stands out most, though, is the queerness radiating from this production. It is camp in the best way, echoing John Waters, drag queen lip syncs, pop culture both old and new, rave culture, and your worst nightmares. This is camp for a new generation and although it slightly misfires in its presentation, it does leave a lasting impact. The whole experience is a surreal, neon-soaked fever dream.

For the cast and crew, this show will be a time capsule of teenage chaos at its finest. For the audience – especially the parents who endured it — director Ava Brown has a message:

“I’m sorry to all the old people. But to the young people—you’re welcome.”

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