OTHELLO WRITERS’ THEATRE
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Weird how little Othello’s blackness really matters. That other Venetian, Shylock, absolutely must be Jewish or The Merchant of Venice just plain falls apart. But as large as Othello’s skin color looms in our perception of him, it doesn’t actually do much. Sure, Desdemona’s father, Brabantio, goes into a racist rant when he finds out that Othello’s secretly married his baby. And you can argue that being so visibly alien primes the Moor to doubt his white wife’s fidelity, thereby triggering the sad events of Shakespeare’s play. There’s precious little, however, to suggest that Venice has been anything but hospitable to this particular black man. He’s a general, for God’s sake–proven in battle, trusted to fight the Turks and administer Cyprus on the doge’s behalf. Secure enough to woo a nobleman’s daughter. Brabantio’s complaints are entertained only out of politeness, because the old man’s a member of the doge’s council, then dismissed with good humor as soon as etiquette allows.
Which is why it’s disconcerting to see James Vincent Meredith in this Writers’ Theatre production, directed by Michael Halberstam, playing an Othello who radiates keen intelligence, projects enormous gravity, and makes no sense at all. After seeing the show, my elder son put it pretty well when he remarked that Meredith’s Moor “said so many stupid things so thoughtfully.”
