One of Shakespeare’s best-known and probably most controversial pieces takes a leap in time through this new version starring Tracy-Ann Oberman, and set during the East London riots against fascism. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if its reinvented approach deserves a pound of flesh.
No one hates stronger than those who do it out of love. We find expressions of that poisonous mercy everywhere we look. From the soft, manipulative touch from toxic friends and relatives to the most heinous acts of violence in the name of a greater cause, nothing serves evil better than that blind belief in doing good. Amidst the heat of one of the most controversial and divisive conflicts in the recent years, the justification for prejudice and abuse towards certain groups seems to be back in vogue – that is, of course, if its appeal ever wore out. Whatever the case, one can’t help but shed a tear of grief and a few more of frustration where reflecting upon the indelible bigotry that blemishes the human soul. A trait we’re doomed to deal with time after time.
Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice is probably one of his most debatable works. An ongoing discussion about the true intentions the author buried beneath his words, it may come as a surprise (to some) that this piece has been used as an homage to the courageous revolt that took part in Cable Street back in 1936. Written in an age where antisemitism peaked all across Europe, scholars have questioned the actual morality that lies behind the Bard’s seemingly comical narrative: the story of a Jewish usurer who’s tricked by his (now, her) methods when reclaiming their part of the agreement. Not too favourable a depiction of the Hebrew community, the doubts about where it stands solidify through its world-famous speech about compassion – given by an alleged (though questionable) antagonist, but probably penned as a sign (and reply) of disgust to Marlowe’s unapologetically deprecatory Malta tale.
Whatever the actual motive was, the intentions for this montage are rather clear. The Merchant of Venice 1936 is a harrowing portrayal of the brainwashed prejudice that leans towards the outsiders. Similarly to other popular plots like Cabaret‘s, the production introduces us to a volatile place where hostility quivers underneath its shallow surface – and sooner and later, it’s bound to break through. The story of a struggling misfit fighting for survival in a predatory universe, the show is a vivid painting of the lowest passions that enrage the heart and contaminate the mind – creating traditional yet veracious archetypes of victims and offenders, who are often masqueraded as the opposite.
Directed by Brigid Larmour, this version boosts the gloominess of the subtext – erasing a great deal of the humourous traits for the sake of a more conscious homage to those who stood up against the xenophobic ghost that, stronger and stronger, was materializing across the nation. With a simple but dynamic (and quite transporting) set design by Liz Cook (also, the name behind the costumes), 1936 succeeds at drawing a tangible picture that almost achieves documentary realism. Nonetheless, there’s still a few important flaws to be taken into account.
Though staged seamlessly through beautiful transitions and remarkably transformative lighting (credit to Rory Beaton), the appeal of its visuals does not fully translate to this storytelling. Despite a generally well-structured tension in constant crescendo, the climax fails to solidify in its full form – abruptly interrupted by a new scene that pays tribute to the fighters from the East London riot. A brilliant addition if used as an epilogue, the lack of a proper bridge that leads into that finale makes the ending feel rushed and, above all, partly unresolved – leaving us with a mild feel of dissatisfaction that, unfortunately, compromises the whole piece.
The same cannot be said about the cast, anyhow – with some renditions excelling due to their poised and highly transmissive energy. Raymond Coulthard makes the most memorable appearance as Antonio, providing his character with an insidious charm that both propels and asserts his dominance onstage. On the other hand, Gavin Fowler earns a mention through his portrayal of Bassanio, sharing a similar allure as his partner in crime – both complementing each other through the maliciously infectious chemistry they’re able to project. Finally, Tracy Ann-Oberman gives a committed performance in the lead role of Shylock, laudable for her determination in honing a frail yet resilient image of the misunderstood foreigner.
Almost as conflicting as its source material, The Merchant of Venice 1936 presents us with audacious themes and sincere profundity, but still can’t manage to tie those elements altogether into a completely firm outcome. A better paced last section as well as some slight polishing in some of the performances would help (and probably, guarantee) a more than alright show to become a superb one. “All that glisters is not gold”, warns the Prince of Morocco. This montage may be the exception, though – as there’s true brilliance shining through its scenes. But for it to fully irradiate us, there’s still some clouds to evaporate.
The Merchant of Venice 1936 plays at London’s Criterion Theatre until 23 March. Tickets are available on the following link.