Reviewed
by Robin Breon
In
1833 history was made when an African American named Ira Aldridge walked out
onto the stage of Theatre Royal, Covent Garden in the role of Othello - the
first black actor ever to do so in the heart of the Empire. He was booed by the
audience and denigrated by the critics, some of whom were actually insulted
that a person of African descent would have the temerity to assay the role!
Almost
175 years later the first Canadian of African descent has finally been given
the opportunity to portray the tragic Moor of Venice at the Stratford Festival,
and Philip Akin's
performance, backed by a sumptuous supporting cast, has engendered standing
ovations and mostly positive reviews.
Make
no mistake about it, although full page newspaper advertisements may hype the
mainstage productions King Lear, Merchant of Venice, and Oklahoma with the most visible adverts,
extolling the talents of Brian Bedford, Cynthia Dale, et al, Othello is the breakout hit of the
Festival's season with Philip Akin and Jonathan Goad its stars.
In
fact, one of the ironic diktats of our age in which art and commerce both pay
rent to the same landlord, would suggest that it is the play which is doing
fine that gets the least amount of help by way of advertising. The smaller
seating space at the Tom Patterson Theatre will sell out quite nicely with this
production, so book your seats now.
When
Margaret Webster directed her benchmark version of Othello on Broadway in 1943 with Paul
Robeson in the title role and Jose Ferrer playing Iago, she wrote: "When
Paul Robeson stepped onto the stage for the very first time, when he spoke his
very first line, he immediately, by his very presence, brought an incalculable
sense of reality to the entire play." I believe it is this hyper sense of
reality - of seeing an old play anew as if for the first time, that is the striking
achievement of this production.
In
the current Stratford version, director David Latham wisely (and thankfully) let's
Shakespeare's genius carry the day. With period costumes (designed with
inspiration by Carolyn M. Smith) and a bare stage that makes effective use of set pieces
and lighting (by Michael J. Whitfield), the actors are free to do what they do best - act.
The
beginning of the play is slow and, in fact, almost inaudible at times with
Goad's tentative Iago giving new meaning to the term "underplaying".
It is not until Iago constructs his marvelous improvisation with Cassio over
the need to have a few drinks before assuming the watch Othello has assigned
them, that Goad seems to really kick into gear and the play takes flight,
building inexorably to its tragic end.
This
bit of binge drinking is really a remarkable scene (augmented nicely by the
fighting choreographed by Nicolas Van Burek) in which this sense of hyper
reality (to get that drunk in real life would take a few hours) takes us swiftly
through the berth between thought and action. When the apprehensive Cassio
gives in with: "I'll do it, but it dislikes me" you know he's doomed
as doomed can be. When a drunken brawl breaks out and Othello has to step in
order to separate the antagonists, we realize its starting to get ugly and that
Iago is gaining the upper hand.
Philip
Akin's Othello is a straightforward, utterly compelling and believable piece of
work with none of the false embellishments one may associate with the role.
Nowhere is this better exemplified than when he enters Desdemona's bedchamber
for the last time with the words: "It is the cause, it is the cause, my
soul." How many baritones have affected a false sounding tremolo in place
of real emotion? Not so with Akin. His final approach to Desdemona is all the
more chilling for its lack of feigned emotionality.
And
all nitpicking aside, Jonathan Goad as Iago is a wonder to behold - pure evil
sugar-coated with a sense of blasˇ nonchalance, barely masking his driving
ambition to overthrow the Moor that has the audience groaning audibly at the
unmitigated audacity of his nefarious scheming.
Jeffrey
Wetsch as the
ill-fated Lieutenant Cassio and Gordon S. Miller as the noble but not too nimble
Roderigo are nicely differentiated while Stephen Russell's Brabantio is so arresting as
the enraged father of Desdemona that we are sorry Shakespeare uses him only to
explicate the basic plot of the play, which is it's ok for the state to use a
black soldier as a mercenary in the field of battle but don't bring him home to
dinner with my daughter.
But
it is left to Claire Jullien and Lucy Peacock as Desdemona and Emilia respectively, to enhance
their roles with a new reading. Jullien's Desdemona is not the compliant
ingˇnue enamored with the great man, but rather a woman who has freely chosen a
husband and insists upon equal standing. Her final scene in which she asks to
be allowed a prayer sounds more like a demand than a supplication.
This
is equally true of Peacock's Emilia, who may be carrying over feminist echoes
of her hit play, The Blond, the Brunette and the Vengeful Redhead which is being remounted again
this season in the Studio Theatre. From her very first interaction with Iago we
know that she hates the man. No false pretense here - she's lived with him and
she knows. Her final admonition to Desdemona on the fate of women in the world
just hovers ominously in the air: "Let husbands know their wives have
sense like them...Then let them use us well. Else let them know the ills we do,
their ills instruct us so."
Shakespeare
worth seeing and believing.