OTHELLO - ARTS THEATRE
In the hallowed words of Cole Porter, ‘Just declaim a few lines from Othella / And they'll think you're a hell of a fella’. OK, without wearing my heart on my sleeve or confessing that when it comes to theatre, I love not wisely but too well, I was really looking forward to the Marlowe Society’s new production of the Moorish tragedy. Noted director John Haidar corralled his student cast into giving a compelling (if not wholly successful) production with several very high spots nicely peppered through the two plus hour drama. His set was simple but had power: a very dark landscape of black drapes and a large circular area of staging at least two metres or so above stage level. This gave the ensemble lots of opportunities for multi-level exposition and some chances of leg dangling precariously over the edge. A huge halo-like circle of light, shifting in hue to suit the mood of the scene, completed the visual set up.
Christopher Deane was a genuinely unsettling Othello – glowering, snarling, full of physical as well as poetic menace. His descent into fits of jealous madness was so convincing that one felt as threatened as poor, unfairly accused Desdemona. Georgia Vyvyan in the part of the Moor’s hapless wife was quite outstanding in every department: she dominated the stage whenever on – strong-voiced, full of tragic energy, fizzing with character. She was really well supported by Anna Wright as Emilia, Iago’s wife and attendant to lady Des. The astonishingly modern scene between the two women as they muse over the role of women in a dominantly man’s world, was outstanding in its power, humour and language.
Some scenes especially in the first half, were a little rushed and over enthusiastic at the expense of diction and plot clarity; the scene in which nasty Iago finishes off the daft Rodrigo in which some of the dialogue was shouted in total darkness, really didn’t work. Bilal Hasna though portraying the scheming Iago with gusto didn’t really get to grips with the beguiling charm of this villainous liar. Chris Dodsworth was strong as the falsely maligned Cassio; everyone was word perfect and fully committed. A surprise gunshot moment (you have been warned at least by me) was a directorial misjudgement as was a rock ‘n roll party scene which seemed anachronistic even in this modern dress version.
This was a solid, occasionally exciting and competent production reminding us once again that Shakespeare was a hell of a fella.
