Theater Review by Carol Rocamora . . .
Igor Golyak’s brilliant, bold version of The Merchant of Venice, now playing Off-Broadway at Classic Stage Company (CSC) through December 22, is not a revival. Nor is it an adaptation. Rather, it’s a sharply satirical study of why and how we adapt the classics for the contemporary theater, and the radical lengths to which we’ll go to do so.
Eager to poke fun at the recent reckless updatings of Shakespeare, Golyak has intentionally chosen the most preposterous premise imaginable: namely, a TV show that has decided to put on The Merchant of Venice, hosted by Antonio, also the name of Shakespeare’s protagonist in this play.
From the moment the production starts, you know you’re in for a wild time. A very strange stage manager named Steve is roaming (and sometimes crawling) around the theater floor in preparation for the airing of the TV show. Enter Antonio (a magnetic T.R. Knight), who captivates us—as today’s show hosts do—with an engaging introduction. “It’s Shakespeare’s so-called ‘problem play’,” he explains, about a work that Shakespeare called a comedy and at the same time featured the most infamous portrayal of a Jewish character in theater history. “So you have to do research,” says Antonio, who gets entangled in a thirty-foot-long banner that features the full title of the play (the long-standing literary joke is that Shakespeare’s original title is way too long). Based on their research, Antonio explains, they have come up with the stylistic choice of commedia dell’arte (an Italian form of broad comedy popular in Europe in Shakespeare’s time) for their TV presentation.
What follows is a roller-coaster ride of selected, streamlined scenes from Shakespeare’s original, each introduced by Antonio and performed on the theater floor and a balcony above (clever set design by Jan Pappelbaum). The original plot is preserved: Bassanio (Jose Espinosa), in his pursuit of Portia (Alexandra Silber), appeals to Antonio to help sponsor his courtship. Antonio, in turn, borrows money from Shylock (Richard Topol), the local Jewish moneylender and a victim of vicious prejudice and humiliation. When Antonio’s shipping ventures fail, however, Antonio cannot repay the loan. The persecuted Shylock retaliates by insisting on calling in his bond—namely, a pound of Antonio’s flesh. In the crucial trial scene, Portia appears in disguise as a prosecutor whose convincing arguments defeat Shylock. To punish the detested Jew, the court seizes Shylock’s wealth and forces him to convert to Christianity.
Consistent with his intent, Golyak keeps introducing extreme and extraneous theatrical gimmicks, one more outrageous than the other. The opening scene (“In sooth, I know not why I am so sad”) is performed by Antonio together with two ridiculous puppets. The dashing Bassanio and the seductive Portia are as agile as acrobats, leaping and tumbling across the stage, dancing to wild rock music played by a guitarist (Fedor Zhuravlev) on the balcony. At one point, a giant parade-size unicorn cavorts across the stage (for no apparent reason). Lorenzo (the suitor of Jessica, Shylock’s daughter) sings like a rock star and Jessica dances like one (Noah Pacht and Gus Birney play the roles respectively . . . and delightfully). The silver, gold, and lead caskets featured in Antonio’s contest for Portia’s hand are represented by huge colored balloons that are ultimately perforated. A giant, wobbly Christmas tree is featured on the TV set throughout, becoming a running prop-joke.
Golyak is a mischievous director who can’t resist a tempting satirical moment. During the Lorenzo-Jessica love scene, for example, when those famous lines (“soft stillness and the night . . . ”) are uttered, a tiny toy “knight” appears in Lorenzo’s hand. These touches—and there are many, like the one where the Christmas tree is decorated with Shylock’s fake noses—add to the madcap entertainment that his commedia interpretation provides. The production abounds with fabulous slapstick and physical comedy (pratfalls, tussles, tumbles, etc.), performed by a brilliantly agile company of actors, colorfully costumed by Sasha Ageeva. (I was relieved to see the names of a fight consultant and physical therapist in the program.)
But there is method to this director’s madness. And that is to provide a sharp focus on what matters most to Golyak: namely, the role of Shylock and how he is depicted over the ages. As played by the marvelous Richard Topol, Shylock is first introduced as a grotesque caricature of the villainous Jew, wearing a black cape, a huge fake nose, and vampire fangs, his doublet smeared with blood. (A historical note: in earlier centuries, the actor playing Shylock would wear a red clown nose.)
But when the play arrives at Shylock’s famous speech (“Hath not a Jew eyes, hands . . . etc.”), Topol suddenly strips off his villain’s costume and recites it realistically with such clarity, simplicity, and feeling that it stops the show. All the frenetic absurdity of the production vanishes in that moment, and the heart of the play—as Golyak sees it—is revealed, as it is once again during the trial scene where Shylock fights for his dignity . . . and loses.
In those moments, Golyak reveals his priorities and his purposes. A Ukrainian-born, Jewish director, he has passionately dedicated much of his work to Jewish themes and the tragedy of antisemitism, most recently in his stunning Our Class, also presented this fall at CSC and produced by Arlekin Players, Golyak’s Boston-based company.
So despite the outrageous theatrical antics, we leave the theater more shaken than entertained—intensified in the sudden, serious, final moments (no spoiler alert). In our troubled times, when antisemitism is rising with frightening intensity, we can turn to a daring, visionary theater artist like Igor Golyak to revisit The Merchant of Venice and address the tragic injustice it depicts. Though you can’t stop antisemitism, you can—as this courageous, committed director has done—call urgent attention to how absurd, grotesque, and inhumane it is; and how much senseless devastation it has brought throughout the ages.
The Merchant of Venice. Through December 22 at Classic Stage Company (136 East 13th Street, between Third and Fourth Avenues). www.classicstage.org
Photos: Pavel Antonov
