Saturday With the Moor

Another cold February Saturday was saved by the Stratford Festival.  It was a day for not even drawing the curtains.  (Sure, it might have been sunny out, but cold just the same.)  English football (albeit a bad day for Liverpool), a good novel (more on that later), and then an evening performance of Othello made for a quite pleasant home-bound day.

The Shakespearean portion of the day was courtesy of Stratford's free stream-at-home largesse.  Again, it was a wonderful gesture on their part for their south of the (Canadian) border friends.  The 2019 production of Othello was not one that I was able to see on stage, so this was a great opportunity to get caught up.

Othello was the first Shakespearean play that I studied.  It was sophomore year of high school,  Advanced English.  (Nothing in freshman year?  Nope.  Odd reading list that.)  In a year of difficult reads, many of which I might appreciate more now, Othello was the Shakespearean contribution.  Having seen the name Iago in many crossword puzzles, I finally was able to meet the source of those clues.  What stands out now was the teacher, a Jesuit priest, explaining what the "beast with two backs" was.  Honestly, I don't remember much else of our study of the play.

Two years later, having jettisoned the advanced track for a more pleasant English experience, I chose an elective on Shakespeare.  The tragedy offering was...Othello?  Why would a class cover the same play that had been studied two years earlier?  Bad planning on the part of the English Department, methinks.  That brief experience was noteworthy for the BBC film starring Anthony Hopkins as Othello and Bob Hoskins as Iago.

Forward twenty-eight years to yesterday evening.  This version of Othello was set in modern times, with characters largely in military dress--lots of camouflage.  The set design was particularly inventive.  It was a black box writ large, with backdrop lighting used to simulate scenery.  The darkness added well to the mood of the play, and the white light provided a stark contrast.  As enjoyable as it was to see it on TV, it must have been quite striking to see it live.

The cast was tremendous.  Several of them had appeared in the Festival production of The Merry Wives of Windsor (see 2/7/21 post).  Michael Blake as Othello was terrific in showing the terrible psychological and physical effects of jealousy.  Gordon S. Miller was particularly vile as Iago--a supreme compliment.  His was a treacherous, quite horrid portrayal.  (It helped that he bore a physical resemblance to someone I used to know who shared some of those unpleasant qualities.)  Amelia Sargisson's Desdemona was piteous; one could not help to feel sorry for her husband's treatment of her.  Johnathan Sousa, a personal Stratford favorite, as Cassio and Laura Condlin as Emilia were excellent as two characters snared in Iago's web.

The play had good direction and pacing overall.  Admittedly, I did find myself checking the clock late in the 160-minute running time.  Things picked up with the final scenes, though.  Desdemona's death scene was difficult to watch; it was a very realistic strangling.  In fact, it made the death scene in Hamlet seem almost comic by comparison.  The play ended on a decidedly dour note with a final fade to black.  The standing ovation given by the audience was very well deserved.

It seems that this may wrap up Shakespearean viewings for a bit, having exhausted the Stratford offerings.  I won't discount fate, though; something likely will arise.

Speaking of fate...  What about Saturday's novel?  It was Herman Wouk's A Hole In Texas.  I saw it for sale at a library used book sale and thought about it for a moment, having family in Texas (and missing visiting there).  Instead, I went to the shelves and checked the book out on loan.  I started it on Saturday morning and had it finished by the end of the day.  One line in particular stuck out:  "You were smuggled in and out in a laundry basket, like Falstaff!"  Wait!  That was last Saturday's Shakespeare.  Funny how things work out.

The Stratford Wives

A rather glum February Saturday was made considerably brighter, thanks to the Stratford Festival.  Earlier in the month, an unexpected gift arrived via e-mail inbox--free streaming access to the Festival's recent production of The Merry Wives of Windsor.  Although a frequent visitor to the Festival, this production was not one that I was able to see live.  That situation very happily was remedied!

The Merry Wives had been on my viewing list for a time.  I had read the play in college, part of a project analyzing the evolution of Falstaff.  Back then I was not savvy enough (and had not done enough outside research) to pick up on the obvious differences between the historical Falstaff and the comedic Falstaff.  Years (and additional research) later, it makes more sense.  Previous Saturdays had found me working through Shakespeare's Henriad on film.  (See posts from April 2020.)  It was only natural to finish off the Falstaff saga, and the opportunity presented itself perfectly.

Reading the cast list during the opening credits was like seeing old friends again.  Numerous actors I had enjoyed in previous Stratford trips were there.  Geraint Wyn Davies as Falstaff reprised his role from the Stratford production Breath of Kings (see 8/1/16 post).  Ben Carson, Graham Abbey, Mike Shara, and Johnathan Sousa, favorites all, featured in this production as well.

The play was an absolute delight!  Set in the 1950's, the set and music worked very well with Shakespeare's words.  Bringing the action into a modern context did not detract or distract.  The entire company did an excellent job, conveying well the play's humor.  In addition to the aforementioned actors, Gordon S. Miller as Caius was hilarious, especially with his awfully ludicrous French accent.

One glitch was the stream's captioning.  For the first act, there were no issues.  Following the interval, however, the captioning was not synced to the actors, running earlier than the spoken word.  It got to be annoying enough that I had to shut the captioning off.  Fortunately, the dialogue was still understandable without it.

And so another of Shakespeare's canon is in the books.  Hopefully the world situation will allow for this U.S. resident to visit Stratford in person again someday.  Until then, home viewing is the next best thing!