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Friday, July 08, 2011

"The Devil Can Cite Scripture for His Purpose"


Much anticipation for last night's performance of Merchant of Venice in Stratford-upon-Avon, not the least of which was surrounding Patrick Stewart portraying "villain", Shylock. We had heard rumors that the play was set in present day Las Vegas, and those rumors didn't disappoint. Vegas, on many levels, seems absolutely appropriate to breathe sin into the souls of all of the players, especially Shylock--the notorious money lender (who happens to be a Jew) who demands to be repaid with a pound of Antonio's flesh if he defaults on the loan. So is where we begin--at a casino in Vegas where Bassanio and Antonio agree to ask Shylock for the money that will allow Bassanio to travel to "Belmont" in order to pursue, and woo, a wealthy heiress, Portia (Insert an Elvis impersonator, portrayed by Lancelot, crooning tunes throughout the rest of the play).

Yet we do not ever get to "Belmont", rather we travel to a stereotypical, Debutante yielding, southern town. Portia is supposedly a southern belle, with a creepy resemblance to Dolly Parton, both in appearances and speech. She and her mistress, Nerissa, are presented as talk show hostesses preparing for some type of game show that will allow Portia's suitors to compete for the chance to marry her. They look, and sound, like bimbos. And though we soon learn that this public Portia is merely a facade to protect the vulnerable and HIGHLY insecure private Portia, I have a very difficult time appreciating this artistic license. One of the reasons I always admire Portia as one of Shakespeare's greatest heroine's is due to her strength and wittiness. I could barely see a glimmer of her in this version.

There were also quite a few stereotypes that were brought to the forefront in this version, and though they subtly exist, peppered throughout the original version, these were uncomfortably evident. The only conclusion for the superficial southern belle, the incoherent Mexican, the gangster-thug-best-friend and the neanderthal-brute Prince of Morocco is to try and spread the politically incorrect stereotypes around so the play doesn't overtly drip with anti-Semitism. But the play IS anti-Semitic and in the 21st century we have to recognize that, not try to bury it beneath comic relief. Has the world learned ANYTHING about the dangers in turning someone else's suffering into laughter? And is it REALLY accurate to say that a southern belle suffers as much as a Jew? Or even MORE than a Jew? But maybe that's the point--in keeping true to Shakespeare's time, who would have cared if a Jew suffered, even the loss of his only child? (Which brings me to a brief blip about Jessica, rather, the actress who played her: She. Was. Awful.)

As I have always said about this particular play--it makes me uncomfortable to see it billed as a comedy, albeit a tragic comedy. In this version, Shylock's conversion to Christianity was painless, unemotional and inconsequential. His yarmulke was taken off his head, his tallit slid from his shoulders and he turned and walked out, with the most emotion coming from Gratiano, who violently spit at his back. The saving grace of this production was it's closing scene, which was speechless except for Elvis singing "Are You Lonely Tonight". The lights faded to blue and each character was left standing alone on the stage, whilst Portia twirled uncomfortably in the middle of them all, having only one of her 5 inch heels, weeping. That was the most powerful and tragic scene of the performance, and well worth the 3 hours leading up to it.

"I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,-
A stage, where every man must play a part;
And mine a sad one." Antonio, I.i.77-79


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