Othello is a tragedy of a foolish hero condemned to self-damnation by apparently motiveless evil. Ian Moore’s adaptation of the Shakespearean tragedy, which ran at the Manoel Theatre between May 13 and 15, retained its emphasis on this tragic unfolding, finding its way back to it at every turn.
Set in a contemporary military setting, Othello (Shawn John) is a general in the Venetian army. His friend Iago (Edward Caruana Galizia), who has long served with him in battle, is intent on destroying him: “I hate the Moor,” he tells us. He feels slighted that Othello has overlooked him and bestowed the position of lieutenant on Michael Cassio (Alex Weenink) instead of him.
He begins his dastardly deeds by employing the daftness of Roderigo (Kyle Borg) to his advantage, using him to relay to the senator Brabantio (Stephen Oliver) that his only daughter Desdemona (Greta Agius) has wed the Moor in secret.
Brabantio interrupts a senate meeting discussing the Turkish invasion of Cyprus to swear vengeance on Othello. Desdemona and the Moor defend their marriage before him and the duke (Mikhail Basmadjian), showing their devotion to one another. Disowned by her father and choosing to join Othello in Cyprus, she plans to travel there with Cassio and Emilia (Simone Ellul), Iago’s wife.
The ensuing celebration scene contained such gems as Iago singing Blake’s Jerusalem and a drunken chant of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline, beer cans flying and an odd, long-haired drunkard stumbling across the stage.
Although certainly an appropriate reaction to learning of the Turkish fleet’s dispersion by storms, perhaps the joviality was a bit too… prolonged, but effective enough to make Cassio’s drunken outlandishness (provoked by Iago’s manipulation of Roderigo) rather natural.
Othello with his new wife Desdemona (Greta Agius).Slithering across the play with an air of nefarious intent, Caruana Galizia’s Iago exudes what Samuel Taylor Coleridge deemed “motiveless malignancy”. His chilling soliloquies, in which he ropes the audience in on his dastardly plans, implicate us and draw us into his villainous mind. His plans escalate in grievousness the more his plans succeed and the more disorder is unleashed.
He speaks mockingly to the characters he manipulated like putty, and is visibly repulsed whenever he must feign concern, showing, for example, sheer displeasure at having to give Desdemona faux comfort in the face of Othello’s accusations.
Othello is undone by Iago because his confidant stirs something dark within him, planting the seed of his wife’s betrayal into his head and kindling in him the “green-eyed monster” of jealously, blurring his vision and pushing him into a frenzy. This is given fodder by Othello’s concern with appearance, of which he is highly protective.
Iago draws us into his villainous mind
Knowing full well that he is looked down upon for being a Moor, the prospect of being betrayed reveals in him a weakness that Iago prods at with full force. John’s Othello descends into madness with weighty ambivalence, transforming this into resoluteness the more convinced of Iago’s lies he becomes. He is not so much characterised by moral ambiguity in this rendition as he is by gullibility – stupidity marks his downfall, foolishness his hamartia.
In the face of Othello’s seemingly senseless accusations, Agius’s Desdemona expresses distraught exasperation that radiates within the audience; she is entirely credible as she pleads at Othello to believe her. Her interactions with Emilia, particularly as she prepares for bed near the final scene before Othello kills her, cast a human and layered light on the female characters – all the more reason to ache at her unfounded demise.
Much in line with Shakespeare’s intention for Iago in his original play, Moore’s adaptation is faithful to the ending that retains Iago’s ambiguity. There is no explanation available for audiences to mull over, nothing to justify his misdeeds. Instead, he declares resolutely, “Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. / From this time forth I never will speak word.”
Othello as he strangles his wife Desdemona.Soon after, Othello aims a gun at his head. “Look on the tragic loading of this bed,” admonishes Lodovico (Matthew Grech). “This is thy work,” he tells the fallen Moor. Perhaps foolishness is the greater malignancy.
The 21st-century military setting was generally well-executed, with the opening torture scene devised by Moore inducing palpable tension in the theatre. A second torture scene midway through the play had a different quality, though, involving a hooded figure yelling unintelligible cries, feeling rather out of place and mildly confusing.
I felt the music and soundscapes in the play were the production’s weakest component, with trumpet sounds stopped abruptly and music ebbing and flowing in scenes in a somewhat fragmented manner. The set design, on the other hand, suited the play greatly, the attention with which it was forged lending itself well to the story.
The production of Othello at the Manoel Theatre proved a delight, faithful to the weighty moral scope of the original and replete with the same tragic chaos. As we suffer from this age’s latest bought of misinformation and manipulation, we ought better to be vigilant of the Iagos in our midst.