Review: A Pandemic ‘Othello,’ Socially and Otherwise Distant

I admit I’ve an issue with Shakespeare’s tragedies. Most are good till the center of Act III, at which level they shortly slide down a hill of blood right into a heap of undifferentiated corpses. The 70 characters who’re stabbed to demise should not actually compensated for by the 2 who’re far more creatively baked into pies.

“Othello” is the exception for me. Yes, the title character smothers his spouse, Desdemona, then kills himself along with his sword. A few others die within the line of dramaturgical responsibility. But the villain, Iago, lives — and the play as an entire does, too. Swift and brutal, it makes a toxic beeline from premise to conclusion with out a lot gore or digression alongside the best way.

This retains its fascinating psychology entrance and heart. Why does Desdemona marry Othello, a much-older basic who’s battle-scarred and — as a result of he’s Black and she is white — positive to shock her highborn Venetian household? Why is Othello so simply tempted by his ensign’s ruses right into a jealous dementia? And why, most curiously, does that ensign, Iago, got down to destroy him within the first place? Is it racism? Ambition? Disgruntled Employee Syndrome?

Shakespeare by no means lets on. “Demand me nothing,” Iago snarls on the finish, in one of many nice evil brush-offs of literature. “What you know, you know.”

And Williams, with her professional technique and polished presence, does stand out from the mostly raw, non-Equity company that took the other roles. She operates at more than one volume level and in more than one key, and can make herself understood in all of them. Still, it seems that she and McSweeny have let the novelty of her casting stand in for interpretation; they deliver the story but not the mystery.

To be fair, the pandemic that created the casting problem is also exacerbating it in another way. The company embraces what it calls “Shakespeare’s staging conditions,” including minimal scenery on a mostly bare platform and “universal lighting” that reveals the auditorium as well as the actors. Neither of these conditions, however they may work on the Elizabethan thrust stage at the Blackfriars Playhouse, where this production was recorded, translates well to the camera. Often shot from a middle distance, with occasional cutaways to the masked audience in their sad, discrete clumps, the cast too often seems broad and unfocused, with more energy than intensity.

Even so, “Othello” can’t help building power as it hurtles toward the climax you keep thinking could still be avoided. Here, Mia Wurgaft as Desdemona is particularly effective, not believing, any more than we do, that what is happening is really happening. Once it does happen, though, the production’s diffuseness instantly returns; the brief coda in which justice is rendered is too rushed to achieve the chilling gravity it deserves, and Iago’s last line seems like less of a curse than a snit.

That’s a shame because “Othello,” in my experience, is not only the greatest of Shakespeare’s great tragedies but also the timeliest. (OK, maybe you’d have a good contest on that count with “Julius Caesar.”) That a Black man is essentially killed by a white man who is pledged to protect and serve him is just the start. “Othello” also asks us to think about a number of interlocking and seemingly mutually incompatible traits that humans nevertheless insist on possessing in sets: the warlike and the amatory, the trusting and the suspicious, the clever and the manipulative, the passionate and the possessive.

And, in a rich production, it asks us to consider one more thing: how easily leadership can be perverted by cynicism. It isn’t very far from “What you know, you know” to “It is what it is.”

Live performances through Sept. 19 at the Blackburn Inn, Staunton, Va.; then through Oct. 18 at Blackfriars Playhouse, Staunton, Va.; streaming online through Sept. 14 on Marquee TV.

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