Twelfth Night is Shakespeare's most crazy-ass comedy. A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest at least use the pretext of magic to explain their characters' insane behavior. Not so in this cross-dressing comedy: The people of Illyria are just plain nutbags.
For example: A shipwrecked woman mourns her recently drowned twin brother for three quick lines, then promptly sets to scheming: She'll pass as a man, make friends with a local duke, and help him woo a stubborn lady who doesn't like him very much. (What? Why?) A drunk named Sir Toby Belch pursues two sadistic—potentially fatal—practical jokes, landing one man in an insane asylum and two others in a swordfight. By the end, the stubborn lady has fallen in love with the drag-king castaway, mistakenly marries the castaway's twin brother (who shows up at the last minute for maximum zaniness), and doesn't care when she figures out the mix-up. When the duke discovers his new BFF is a woman in disguise, he immediately forgets his love for the stubborn lady, which drove most of the play, and marries her instead (after getting a peek at her gams).
Twelfth Night is counter-titled Or What You Will—Shakespearean for "whatever." "Whatever" is this play's spirit animal. (The play also contains Shakespeare's most explicit cunt joke, with "cut" a period equivalent to "gash." A pompous servant, Malvolio, thinks he's found a love letter from his employer, the stubborn lady. He parses her handwriting: "These be her very c's, her u's and her t's, and thus makes she her great p's." Get it? Great peeing from her cut. Har har.)
Stephanie Shine's production is appropriately frenetic, with live flamenco guitar pushing the action forward. Costume designer Melanie Taylor Burgess is mad about plaid, dressing the cast in bright Dickensian checkers, spats, and tall hats. Newcomer Susannah Millonzi has a loose-limbed grace as the castaway drag king Viola—everybody else, except the Greek fool Feste (Chris Ensweiler), maintains good and constrained upper-class posture, but Viola squats and sprawls and gestures broadly, trying to seem like a boy. The prim servant Malvolio (John Bogar) lives on the other end of the spectrum, uptight and stiff as a gull who thinks he's a peacock. Darragh Kennan has a small but mighty role as the indignant, stuck-up drunk Sir Andrew Aguecheek, the stupid sidekick to the burly, Falstaffian bon vivant Sir Toby Belch (Ray Gonzalez).
The greatest virtue of this Twelfth Night is its clarity. Very few of the jokes, even the slangy or obscure ones, get rushed or sidelined. By the end, you might hope the deus will hurry up and ex machina (for such a senseless play, it's overly concerned with tying up loose ends), but the majority of Twelfth Night is an energetic, entertaining distraction: a very pleasant "whatever." 
