The Merchant of Venice by the RSC: A universe of divine discord

Introduction

Just to get it over and done with: NEVER UNTIL NOW have I seen such a bunch of incompetent actors assembled on one stage as in this production of “The Merchant of Venice”! I don’t think even in the “dark days”, when I was one of the two most faithful “followers” of my provincial theatre at Augsburg where I must have seen lots of bad productions. (As usual, I only remember the good ones.) But, most of the time, there was at least SOMEBODY who knew what they were doing … Well, there always is somebody who knows what they are doing, and maybe it’s best - and fastest! - to start with them and avoid mentioning the others. I already mentioned Brian Protheroe for reassuring “us” that we actually are in a Shakespeare play (- and maybe shouldn’t leave the theatre in the interval, which, actually, we SHOULDN’T have done …). But he played Aragon for what felt like about … three minutes. And there was Jacob Fortune-Lloyd who played the only INTERESTING Bassanio I have seen so far – after having played the only interesting Cassio I have seen so far, in the RSC’s production of “Othello” I liked so much. And Ken Nwosu was good as well. He played Gratiano and the Prince of Morocco “with the caskets”, and in that scene he went one step further and gave the most significant statement on this production, as far as the ACTING is concerned. He shrugged off the fancy jacket already on his way off the stage, as if to say: Done – THAT’S RIDICULOUS!

It might have been more of a personal statement, though: Now I have done my due and played the black guy again, but that’s it, let’s go and play SHAKESPEARE! (He has my blessing.) The important thing about this statement is that, apparently, more than usual, the actors were allowed, or encouraged, to make statements. The visible expression of this state of affairs was that most of the actors sat on benches ON THE STAGE during the performance, as if they were on the rehearsal stage, checking on what the other actors were doing. Of course there is a large range of possibilities as to what this might signify. For me, in this context, it became an expression of: We did this TOGETHER, and we decided – unanimously - that THIS IS CRAP! At least we won’t play it the way it is “always” played because we JUST CAN’T …

I am exaggerating, of course, but something like this became my general explanation for so much bad acting from people who should at least know what they are doing. As I wrote, playing Shakespeare is a universe of its own, and actors who are otherwise good may just be in the wrong place there. And there is probably no high-ranking Shakespeare production I have seen without at least one actor who fucked up, but I have never seen so many actors “systematically” fucking up one play. There were a few who were not in on it, see above, but they “kept quiet”, I suppose, and just did as they saw fit. And, in the end, it didn’t work anyway, I suppose to the gratification of the whole cast, but of that later …

As, miraculously, it didn’t work I could consider it as an interesting statement to concede that “Shakespeare” CAN be ridiculous – a lot of “Shakespeare” actually IS ridiculous, by the way, especially if we are looking at it out of context – or crap, or inacceptable. The more personal we take it, the more we dare to supply OUR OWN context, the more ridiculous or inacceptable it will probably become. Why should we always muster so much tolerance for what was written in “inhuman” times where dogs killing each other or burning heretics was considered entertainment??? … Well, having just read a lot of Philippa Gregory and being stuck in “Wolf Hall”, I could at least sympathize with this point of view. I suppose, though, that a “democratic” approach couldn’t be more than an experiment, and that, in the long run, ACTING will always be more important, but, if it was, it became an interesting experiment. The more so as, in the end, “Shakespeare” prevailed.

“Statements” and metaphors: There is nothing so difficult as justice …

I suppose that it couldn’t have been because of the acting that I came out “on the right side” of “Shakespeare” after having seen the RSC’s production, but it explained a lot about the play that I didn’t understand seeing the perfectly “smooth” production of the Globe BY METAPHORS displayed on the stage. It is not something I usually like very much, but sometimes I do, as I liked the discreet presence of skulls in the “woodwork” in “Richard III”. (Much better than the buckets of blood I would need for “Macbeth” …) The giant golden pendulum in the middle of the stage of the Swan Theatre was anything but discreet, but I somehow managed to ignore it until I had a theory about why it might be there …

Talking with my friend about the play alerted me to something important that I had forgotten during my long voyage “on” “The Merchant of Venice”. It was important because I had forgotten where I started, and with what baggage, but after we had talked about it I could assess much better HOW FAR I had come. As she is always much better at what is generally thought or known about a given Shakespeare play she mentioned the “two parts” of the play, and I knew what she meant without ever having read or heard it mentioned before. I have always “read” the play in two parts myself – one of which I kind of refused to read. And I have always been fascinated by the first part, about Shylock and Antonio and the bond, and bored, respectively repelled – as I remember now! – by the second part about Portia and the caskets. And I never questioned that there were in fact two parts, or stories, that were blended together in one play without really fitting, or really having anything to do with each other. And when we were talking about it I first realized that, with the help of the RSC, I overcame this concept and, I think, came to a deeper understanding of the play.

One thing that helped me on the way, and which, I think, came out of the RSC’s production, was the realization that the content of the play was contemporary at the time. There are very few plays, I think, in “Shakespeare” that were “modern” (in a 20^th century sense). Though, probably, that’s just my own perception because I could never keep track of the comedies. And, in my complete edition, “The Merchant of Venice” is listed with the comedies. Not without reason if we look at the “second part”: matters of love were considered “comedy stuff” at the time. Thinking about “The Shrew” (or, by the way, about what happens right now in my own family) I can say I REALLY DON’T understand why … And “The Merchant of Venice” offers a very deep – and kind of grim and sad – insight into what love can be like if we are looking at the relationship of Antonio and Bassanio. I think that this contemporaneity – about what people did with love relationships, or religious minorities and so on – is what lends this “sharpness” and depth of focus to the comedies that I don’t encounter in the tragedies, or ancient rape and splatter stuff like “Titus Andronicus”. I don’t know if this is cynical, but sometimes killing and dying seams less agony … (As I wrote, I gave credit to Jamie Ballard as Antonio for ONE thing: coming onto the stage IN TEARS for what he will never get, not even knowing it himself …)

What happens in the comedies is almost always less “literary” and more contemporary than what happens in the tragedies and histories, and as such I know that it will become interesting when I will have overcome the difficulties of figuring it out. For that, I knew, I had to get closer to the people I disliked, basically Antonio, Portia, and Bassanio, and was looking for “input” on that matter, with little success. Antonio is the most interesting, as the “interface” between the two parts of the play and in his own right. I’ll never know if I dislike Antonio because Jeremy Irons played him in the film (whom I stubbornly dislike as an actor, and in this case I stand to it because I ALWAYS see an actor when he is playing, besides the character he is playing.) It might have been the other way round, though, because I first became aware of him playing Antonio and might have begun to dislike him because of this. Anyway, no matter whom I will see playing Antonio and how they will play him, I will always dislike him because he uses his love - and money! - to “blackmail” the person he loves. Which doesn’t mean that he is not one of the most interesting (and “modern”!) characters Shakespeare has ever written. Doing justice to the fact that he – not Shylock! – is the title character of the play definitely became useful.

Thinking about the predicaments in which these characters stand – which I refused to take seriously before – certainly pointed me in the right direction, but I think I took repeated shortcuts, using the “metaphors” the RSC displayed in their production. I remember precisely the moment when I “became aware” of the pendulum, standing on the platform waiting for my train and thinking what I would do with “The Merchant of Venice”. And I became aware that I would want giant scales on the stage – to visualize the “equation”. This is not even something I like, though, and I thought it wouldn’t do anyway because it would be misunderstood, grossly pointing at Shylock’s pound of flesh. But there was this giant pendulum … Maybe THAT had something to do with it?

I think that was when I became fully aware of WHY I was doing equations. To keep track of the complex interpersonal situation, and how it evolves. And how all these relationships are coming into it, not just those that concern Shylock. I had already closed the rift between the two parts, including Portia and the caskets – and potentially every “ancillary” character or relationship, as, for example, the one between Jessica and Lorenzo, or Antonio and his other friends. Basically, WHY is he lonely, in the middle of so much company … ???

Music as metaphor: A universe of divine discord

Metaphors big time in exchange for the acting: that was the RSC’s “Merchant of Venice”. But I understand that it appeared more important to them to have a fresh perspective on the play. And one thing they did I really, really, REALLY loved, which was the MUSIC. I don’t remember, though, if I even noticed it before I had figured out why. They put a few singers on top of the big wall at the back of the stage who made really beautiful polyphonic music – which was contemporary but reminded me of early polyphonic music as, I take it, we would have heard in Shakespeare’s time. And I think this was ingenious because, when I noticed the metaphor, I became aware that they had understood the play the way I had come to understand it in the course of my “voyage”.

I looked it up, to be sure, but I was basically right about this. The 16^th century was the time when polyphonic music reached its (first) peak. So it was “state of the art” but still kind of “new”, and scandalous because the church still wanted to suppress it. They wanted the spoken word at the centre, and to be discernible, whereas polyphony gives precedence to the music, and the words come second. In the light of reading in “Wolf Hall” what had just happened in the church, in England and elsewhere, this became especially interesting. The efforts to suppress the MANY INDIVIDUAL VOICES that had just sprung up in so many places had led to serious political repercussions (basically: lots of burnings and beheadings, and worse …) which were still fresh in people’s memories.

I often have this feeling of contemporaneity when I am reading Shakespeare, and I am always trying to “find” it. That’s probably why I cherish the few episodes of “Shakespeare Retold” so much which the BBC regrettably doesn’t make anymore. Usually, I have it more about the comedies, but I have it as well constantly reading “Macbeth” (and am looking forward SO VERY MUCH to seeing the newest version of the RSC in June …) I think I am always trying to have it with “Shakespeare”, and I am sure many people do, in totally different places. My friend repeatedly said that she has it about “Titus Andronicus”. I understand what she means, but I am probably an incorrigible optimist and STILL don’t see our world QUITE like that. Though I never tire until I have “made up” the cruelest version of a comedy I can think of.  

In this case it was about something that was still rather new AT THE TIME: people making THEIR OWN lives and speaking with THEIR OWN voices, but we still “have” it and, quite often, it still leads to repercussions that are not entirely desirable. But we are used to it, I think, and even like it, like to watch it and find the polyphony of life beautiful, which explains a lot about “Shakespeare”, or “House of Cards” and the like … Sometimes it JUST HURTS. What I loved most in the entire production was when, at one point, the singers didn’t end their interlude in harmony but in a big, kind of DIVINE DISCORD – which sounded as if each voice closed on a different note. It was the biggest, most beautiful metaphor I can imagine for my ongoing experience that IT DIDN’T ADD UP. When there are so many people with so many different voices and so many different predicaments IT NEVER WILL.

Conclusion: Unlocked the casket!

So, it didn’t add up, in the end, but, in the case of the RSC, it came right. I don’t know anything about this, of course, but the production might have suffered from a lack of directing, at least in the first part. Actors who don’t know what to do won’t emerge as great actors, even if the potential is there. But the fact that they, maybe, had more of a DISCUSSION about the play instead of a proper rehearsal, might have turned out good in the end. That is, when things were running towards their climax in the big court scene where Shylock demands his bond and gets systematically dismantled. This scene is so scandalous in so many ways that, every time I see it, I can’t believe it. I CAN’T BELIEVE that anyone might have had the genius to write it … And when there is REAL discussion, real disbelief, and no ready acceptance, this scene turns out even more dynamic. I think that these dynamics, in writing, just developed from the story being set up as cleverly as it is, to create maximum effect. And if it is PLAYED like this as well it will infallibly make us feel bad and clueless – though, like in a real trial, we have the solace that justice was served and the villain got duly punished.

Well, this scene was still so much better – or worse! - than in any other production I have seen. There really WAS NO NEED, after that, to show Shylock being cruelly baptized, as the Globe did. (And it made me think about if my own vision how Shakespeare should be played isn’t right, after all … Well, it will never be proved, or disproved. And it would be rather a dangerous method …)

So, I must give great credit to this production, in the end, not least for taking risks. Metaphors, Music, dynamics, and the way they tried to make the discord bigger and point at the ambiguities - the things that don’t add up! - in people’s relationships, furthered my reading in the direction it was already going. For example, they showed the relationship between Jessica and Lorenzo as failing. I don’t know if I would go that far because it came out kind of gross, but it first made me aware of how much text Shakespeare has given to them that is quite ambiguous. It certainly could turn out either way …

And this was also, I think, why I took a closer look at the caskets. This part of the story had appeared stupid to me until the end, and I kind of ignored it, but after having “completed” my reading in the way I described I found an explanation even for them. The risk of FAILING is even bigger when we manage to take the relationship between Portia and Bassanio seriously. Not consider it as the kind of fairy-tale and comedy stuff it is to begin with. I think Shakespeare contrived to make it quite serious, as he usually does with “comedy stuff”, by showing their relationship to be endangered by Bassanio’s “unfaithfulness” – which is, in fact, faithfulness to Antonio! The heartbreak of having the world where he had this EXCLUSIVE relationship with Bassanio come to an end is Antonio’s tragedy – which, understandably, he UNCONSCIOUSLY tries to prevent by all means. But it is Bassanio’s and Portia’s relationship that is endangered by him “collecting his debt”.

In this case, “we” know that they will be alright – even though Antonio will still be “there”. (In EVERY production Antonio is left alone on the stage in the last scene. On second thought, I very much doubt that … But, from that day, he will only be a guest in Bassanio’s life.) And the reason that they will be alright is that they made the RIGHT choice. IT HAPPENS – though, I fear, not often. And I think that the point of the caskets is about how difficult, respectively IMPOSSIBLE, it is to make the right choice. I remember thinking that, even though they are ridiculed by the relieved girls, Morocco and Aragon are not actually STUPID. Their choice of caskets is not stupid but they chose rationally, according to WHO THEY ARE. They are not bad men or bad people, or insufficient, they are just who they are and, as such: NOT THE RIGHT PERSON. And because being set up for life often goes catastrophically wrong the choice of the right person is THE IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE. “We” choose, in the end, because love induces us to it. But what is love? Seriously, I think, only very few people ever come to know that. The closed casket is a great symbol for that choice. We choose without knowing WHAT we choose, and it will, IN ANY CASE, turn out different. Actually, Portia’s father was more clever, and “fatherly”, than she gives him credit for. He obviously knew what he was doing and set the whole thing up so as for her to be chosen FOR THE RIGHT REASON. There is no guarantee in that, by the way, but it might reduce the odds …

Right now, I appreciate “The Merchant of Venice” very much for providing me with such a complete experience of “Shakespeare”. As if there was no substantial part of the play left that is not covered by it. But, about this, I must certainly be wrong???

“The Merchant of Venice” by the Globe: On justice …

To begin with, there will be just one thing about the old BBC production. I remember that, seeing it for the first time, I wasn’t able to process so much text, though I had read it before, probably because I had already begun to THINK about it and thinking got in the way. Watching it for the second time, when I had seen the other productions, I noticed that, having started on consciously making “equations”, I could never make up my mind on a crucial point of the equation until I heard the COMPLETE text again, in the “complete cycle”. (As this is the great thing about it – apart from seeing favourite actors when they were quite young: There are not just all the plays – quite a few of which nobody has ever recorded on DVD – but there is, basically, the complete text!) It is about my favourite scene, the one where the terms of the bond are negotiated between Shylock and Antonio, which is so complex and full of ambiguities that I like it just because of that. And where a lot of questions are raised which will have to be answered by and by if we want to come to a “verdict”. (I came to a verdict, by the way, about Shylock, which is “guilty”, though I never really liked it and tried everything to reverse it, and couldn’t, in the end. But maybe the point of making equations was even more to establish all those little “guilty” verdicts on the way there … As in real life, everybody is guilty of SOMETHING.) The crucial point on which I couldn’t make up my mind was: “WHY does Shylock make this proposal (which nowadays wouldn’t have any legal status anyway, being regarded as immoral)? Does he make it with a clear intent of revenging himself on Antonio with something that doesn’t make sense in the first place??? Or does the bond develop from the way the conversation is going, actually like some kind of tasteless joke? I very much favoured the last option which makes the scene so much more intriguing, opening up more options which will make it ever more impossible to “close” the equation … Regrettably, there is one sentence IN THIS SCENE where Shylock clearly states his intent to revenge himself on Antonio – and which I would be very tempted to drop if I was a director. As, obviously, directors generally are. (The “complete cycle” suffered from a lack of directing, I believe, but not from leaving out relevant text!) I still don’t think that it is wrong to do this, by the way, but there is no doubt here as to what SHAKESPEARE intended to say – though he kind of contradicts it by the ambiguity of the scene and, later, by the effort he takes to explain and “justify” Shylocks inhuman proceedings.

Maybe it was because of these contradictions that looking at the complete text convinced me even more of how serious Shakespeare was about making his argument on JUSTICE. As if he did the same thing that I did, trying to make equations, and, maybe, all things considered, was reluctant to decide. Which is the same “we” usually feel about actual court cases – if we can be bothered to consider all the fine points, not just want someone to be guilty. We DON’T FEEL GOOD about giving a verdict.

As usual I was impressed with the complexity of the analysis. How thorough and comprehensive Shakespeare was about the status justice – and, not to forget: money!  – has in people’s dealings and relationships - not least the relationship they have with themselves! Not to consider all these other issues – as love, friendship, and humanity – which come into the equation, and which “we” would like to be so much more important … The “real life” assessment of a complex interpersonal situation like this would always lead to this kind of equation, and here I liked, more than ever perhaps, how Shakespeare doesn’t ALLOW us to regress into a child’s universe of good versus bad. Which is what I was always trying to do when I tired of the equation! And this is already, I think, the greatest and most special feature of “Shakespeare”. That we aren’t allowed to fall back onto the talk show and twitter level of discussion that surrounds us. And the way “Shakespeare” is helping us climb to this level of complexity by means of structure and beauty of language. We have to “exercise” to rise to it, but “we” are doing it because we are seduced and rewarded by beauty, feeling that complexity, as such, must be a beautiful thing. Which, I think, it is.

(And this is why I am so infinitely grateful for INTELLIGENT – and beautiful! - series like “House of Cards”, or “Doctor Who”, and so on because they show me, in the first place, that I am not alone. Let’s face it: Who is reading Shakespeare in the twenty-first century? We cannot count on him and great writers from the past anymore to rescue our brains from the muck of German TV, but series like this are watched by millions all over the world and are therefore responsible for raising the level of sophistication of entire “audiences”. There was a time I didn’t even KNOW that I was wrong to assume, looking at German television, that most people actually ARE that stupid. Now I find that nobody I KNOW actually watches the (thrice-)daily soaps and three crime stories a day, only the news and the football. The rest who must be doing it I don’t pity, they may rot in hell … O, that’s the first time, I think, that I wrote something I shouldn’t have put on facebook! Now I see what’s the problem with it: The people charged with picking the slander might not have a sense of humour?! Well, nobody will find it HERE, though I should put a smiley face, just in case …)

Now, the Globe’s version of the play is perfect “Shakespeare” in the sense I have just stated. Before I’ll come to this I’ll make a note of something about the character of Shylock which I found intriguing but cannot explain in any way so far. So I’ll just put it here to have it on record. It struck me that, whereas I have seen three completely different Antonios, Shylock in all four productions basically is the same person. Even the accent is the same (- though in the case of Makram J. Khoury of the RSC, who gives the most uninspired Shylock I will probably ever see, it is less convincing.) There is no other character in Shakespeare so far about whom I have observed this, and I think there has to be some kind of reason for it.

I still liked Al Pacino’s Shylock with his appealing mixture of childlike innocence and cunning and remembered why. The most important thing about Shylock is to make him appear like a HUMAN BEING that doesn’t DESERVE not to be treated like one. Having got this, I preferred Jonathan Pryce of the Globe Theatre BECAUSE his Shylock didn’t strike me as special in any way. He basically appears like a contemporary businessman whom we might see in the street and never think about as being “good or bad” in the first place, merely, maybe, what he might be doing in the city, or in the pub where we are just having a beer with a friend. And the same applies to Dominic Mafham who played Antonio ENTIRELY as a contemporary character, transcending completely the historical setting of the play. So much so that it should have felt odd, but it didn’t, and this was the first thing I especially liked about the Globe’s production. Though there were beautiful period costumes and, basically, a “conservative” application of the historical setting the theatre provides, the CONTENT struck me as NO LESS CONTEMPORARY than when I saw the RSC’s production where the costumes and set WERE contemporary, (though, I must admit, only AFTER I had seen it.)

This contemporary spirit of the Globe’s recent productions I noticed also in “Titus Andronicus” whereas older productions I have on DVD, like “Romeo and Juliet”, or “Twelfth Night” where all the female characters are actually played by men, appear more old-fashioned. I like it not least as proof of how flexible and sufficient this historical theatre actually is, even, in certain respects, superior to a contemporary stage.

But “Titus Andronicus” is a very different play, a very different material to play with. Another important discovery, which will become even more relevant “reading” the RSC’s production, was that “The Merchant of Venice” was a contemporary story AT THE TIME. It is an entirely different matter if the events took place in ancient Rome, or if there is this kind of “timeless” tragedy, where there might be greater freedom how to deal with it. Without being able to explain why, just because of what happened when I saw the different versions, the contemporary approach struck me as the only thing that would work for this play. I remembered “Richard III” with Ralph Fiennes where the cohabitation of smartphones and swords didn’t appear the least bit odd but struck me just as the thing to do – and which can be done ONLY on the stage! Nonetheless, I could image to see a historical version of “Richard III” that works, whereas for “The Merchant of Venice” I can’t. I think it actually depends on this kind of contemporary story or material – which, for us, shouldn’t be “contemporary” though! – and that this is the reason why the old-fashioned BBC production, which, as I already wrote, isn’t “bad” or boring - yielded no interesting discoveries.

(I forgot to mention that, though I was disappointed with Gemma Jones, I discovered John Rhys-Davies, playing Salerio, as a brilliant Shakespeare actor in the making. Somebody to whom “Shakespeare” does seem to come as naturally as breathing. Another footnote on the subject of “Shakespeare actors” in the Tolkien films which couldn’t be suppressed, see my last post …)

Apart from the contemporary approach I like the Globe’s way of “just playing” Shakespeare without “making statements” in the first place but rather to follow exactly what Shakespeare has written. Statements can be good, though, to better understand the play, and I’d say that the Globe’s and the RSC’s version completed and illuminated each other. The best thing about the Globe’s production I only noticed after having seen the RSC’s where I realized how complex the equation actually is: It is that they really TRIED to answer my question about Shylock’s intent. Not by making a statement but by Jonathan Pryce playing Shylock in a subdued but clever and sensitive manner, clever and sensitive enough to “reach” the fine points of the equation, though I wouldn’t be able to say what his solution was. But the important thing, I think, is to jump-start the equation in this scene and keep it going, for which I was particularly grateful. (And, as usual, very pleased to be able to say that it was an actor who DID IT.) To be continued …