Originally written for Exeunt.
The night I saw Frantic Assembly’s revived touring production of
Othello,
the Nuffield Theatre in Southampton was full to the brim with excited
school groups. What was even better was that the kids had been set an
assignment to review the piece, so it was pretty endearing to watch as
they tried to scribble notes in the dark after the most poignant
monologues and altercations. Best of all, though, was a moment when
Steven Miller’s satisfyingly slimey Iago weaved his arm through
Othello’s, standing behind him to likewise point towards the deed
apparently committed between his wife and Cassio. The girl sat next to
me, having clocked this symbolism, turned to her friend and mimicked the
movement beautifully. What better character study could there be than
to get out of the classroom and not just see the physical language, but
to want to replicate it?
I loved Shakespeare at school (yes, I was that girl). But I had
grown disdainful of his plays of late, purely because I couldn’t turn a
corner of the world of theatre without seeing an advert or a review for
yet another reimagining, restaging, rehashing of the same old stories we
will seemingly play out forever more. However, in the same way that
Frantic Assembly inspired excitement in the school audience at the
Nuffield (cheering, whooping, rapturous applause), they have reawakened
my love for the Bard.
To put it simply, it is due to the way that Frantic Assembly put
together a production that makes this retelling the stunning piece of
work that it has been heralded as. It is in the purposeful symbolism of
the set design, the costume, the music. The calculated movements, the
searing performances. It is due to framing the bar where this play takes
place with a series of flats that move and bend to disorientating
effect, communicating drunkenness or mental and emotional discord. It is
the pool table, played throughout, that comes to its own climax when
Lodovico tells Iago to “look on the tragic loading of this bed”: the
careful setup of all the balls to pot both the black and the white.
Most provocatively, it is in having the ladies’ toilets on stage,
while the gents’ toilets are out of sight. What is the meaning of this?
Must we have the women’s private deeds flaunted infront of us, primed
for criticism and slut-shaming, while the men can slip discreetly out of
sight? Sounds familiar. I’ll leave you to wonder whether Shakespeare
was simply ahead of his time.
There are more, so many more, moments of pure visual genius. The
production is bulletproof. Everything has already been questioned before
it reaches the stage so the implications of what we see are undeniably
purposeful, rich in possibilities. And, let’s face it, Shakespearean
verse is not most people’s common tongue to express lust or love, anger
or jealousy. The physical gestures, however, are universally understood.
Pass a pool cue through a girl’s hand at just the right angle and an
audience will know exactly what you’re aiming for.
But, my opinion that all of this clever set design and physical
language makes the original play clearer will not be shared by all, and I
would wager that this is something very specific to already knowing it
reasonably well. But Frantic Assembly have not brought this play into
the tracksuit clad, party hard 21
st Century to accurately restore the production of
Othello from the 17th Century. Although, neither is its stance as a
direct response to the Yorkshire race riots of 2001 very obvious, except in hindsight.
Regardless, between a misplaced handkerchief and Scott Graham’s
source of inspiration, the piece’s relevance prevails. What we see is a
black man, feared and respected by his peers, who is manipulated by his
friend to believe his white wife is betraying him for another white
man.We see Iago and Emilia’s poisonous relationship, the sisterhood
between Emilia and Desdemona, the comedic post-rendezvous debrief
between Bianca and Cassio. We see women battling for equality, men
humbled by their own masculinity and the furtive importance of trust and
forgiveness in friendships and relationships.
Frantic Assembly tell those stories
in a way that is more relevant, accessible and engaging, with all the
fire that is less easily found in the text, but that music and physical
gesture can evoke. That’s why we reproduce Shakespeare, and that’s why a
Frantic Assembly retelling works so well. I have no doubt that the year
11s will look back on this production in 10 years’ time, when we are
facing the next all-female/all-male/digitally
enhanced/staged-on-the-moon production of
Othello, and what they will remember is how much they enjoyed it.
Thank you, Frantic, for reminding me why I ever loved Shakespeare.