Although Patrick Page Playing Iago is Bright, Rest of Cast is Dull
by Lisa Troshinsky
Never has there been a more delightfully evil Iago than the one being dished out by Patrick Page in the Shakespeare Theatre’s current production of “Othello.”
Even peace lovers will secretly find themselves enjoying not only the flying carnage that results from his destructive path, but the pure emotion that is his motivation.
Not many people would admit to identifying with such a sinister sociopath, but when the lights go down and the villain, in soliloquy after soliloquy, makes the audience his only confidante, it would almost be inhuman not to be drawn into his world. In fact, we find ourselves sharing a satisfying and sinister laugh with his unadulterated immorality.
Plus, Iago is not a stupid character. In fact, he is much more clever than is his gullible, unsure nemesis Othello. Page plays Iago with su
ch razor-sharp edge, wit and intensity, that none of Shakespeare’s lines is lost to our ear—from his first furor over being passed over for a promotion to his more direct, seemingly unfounded, but completely believable, “I hate the Moor.”
All of Page’s choices are convincing and engaging—necessary traits for the required suspension of disbelieving such a genuine fiend. Page is hardly recognizable here when compared to his sedate performance in the theater’s production last year of “Macbeth.”
However, his brilliance only serves to elucidate the dullness of the rest of the production, which Michael Kahn has chosen to direct with a straightforward hand, including traditional casting and a sparse, almost empty, set.
Past Shakespeare Theatre renditions have played the race card in “Othello” in various ways. In 1997, Patrick Stewart was cast as the only Caucasian against a backdrop of African Americans—an eye-catching and thought-provoking race reversal. In 1990, Othello and Iago were both played by black actors, Avery Brooks and Andre Braugher, respectively. This version has Avery Brooks as Othello, the only African American.
There is no reason why conventional casting—Othello as the “other,” the Moor, the African American that stands out to be taunted by a jealous, wicked and bigoted Iago—should be boring. And the starkness of the scenery—nothing more than mammoth, bare wooden floors and walls—could have been a carte blanche for any magic conjured up by the Bard and the actors.
But unfortunately, little magic arrives. The flatness of the other actors’ deliveries results in a self-conscious audience that is left watching a cheerless play, not experiencing a tragedy.
Even Brooks, who starts off strong with jovial sexuality, loses valor in Act II when he seems to have swallowed the transition needed to transform himself into a cold-hearted killer. Turning on his first love with second-hand gossip should be heartbreaking; instead, it is vacuous.
The relationship on stage between Brooks and Colleen Delany, who plays his wife Desdemona, never really heats up. Delany, a graceful beauty, adequately portrays the feeling of helpless servitude toward her husband, but we never see, at least on stage, the chemistry that would inspire a woman to obey a man to her detriment.
These lack of connections, after a while, make the play feel something of a staged reading and dilute Page’s performance and credibility. For if nothing much is going on, why is he making such a fuss?
The contribution of supporting actors is mixed. Gregory Wooddell is a young, wooden Cassio, without much personality. David Sabin, who plays Brabantio, Desdemona’s father, and Erik Steele, who plays Iago’s sidekick Roderigo, flesh out their parts. And Bianca’s (the courtesan and Cassio’s mistress) dance/seduction scene in the bar room is a lively slice of animation, though it doesn’t fit in, even as tragic juxtaposition, with the play’s overwhelming gloom.
A positive is Jess Goldstein’s innovative costumes. In keeping with period pieces, Goldstein manages to intertwine form-fitting leather trench coats, pants and boots for the men and beautiful flowing gowns for Desdemona. Even Bianca’s garb is a stylized, flowing, hip-hugging skirt and midriff.
The final scene—always the anticipated climax, no matter the caliber of the production—is a visual worth waiting for. Large-bodied, dark Othello and slight, fair, long-haired Desdemona lay side by side in a huge bed facing downstage, carefully strewn out, and dead. On the floor beside them is a tangled mess, the murdered corpse of Emilia, Iago’s wife, sprawled out haphazardly. Here, death unites race, but makes a large distinction of class. It’s a jarring concept that the production pulls out of the text, but it might be a bit too late to rescue the overall effort.
“Othello” runs through Oct. 30 at the Shakespeare Theatre, 450 7th St., NW. Tickets are $14.25 to $71.25. For more information, please call (202) 547-1122 or visit www.shakespearetheatre.org.
Lisa Troshinsky is the theater reviewer for The Washington Diplomat.
