Othello - Young Vic

The Times; London; Oct 8, 1975; Irving Wardle;

Iago without evil, Othello without wrath
Shakespeare at the Young Vic means simple staging, energetic performance, and prices teenagers can afford. Put like that it is obviously worthwhile. But since the departure of Peter James I have found it hard to work up much enthusiasm for productions as eccentric as Frank Dunlop's Macbeth or as inept as this directorial debut by Alfred Lynch...

Clumsiness of this kind abounds in the staging. In the first scene, Iago carefully hugs the shadows under Brabantio's window, and then chips into the conversation right under the old man's noce; a move which makes nonsense of his pretended aussalt on Roderigo in the next scene. Again, at the end, he stands fuming at the top of the steps as Emilia prepares to spill the beans about the handkerchief, with no one restraining him from silencing her; then he has to wound her, motivelessly, in the course of a long, running exit.

The exits generally are long and noisy; and Mr Lynch tries to cover them with laughter or by taking them at a gallop. Anything approaching crowd action defeats the showl and when we reach the night climax in the street, Iago has to carry the whole thing himself with blockish figures standing around holding lanterns and registering thick-witted amazement...

The casting is extremely odd. Iago and Emilia look more like son and mother than husband and wife; and Roderigo (Michael Graham Cox) more like a crony of Brabantio's than a young Venetian fop. With Iago and Othello themselves we seem to have wandered into other plays altogether. Entering to langurous offstage harmonies, his warlike parts entirely subdued to the melting mood, David Burke converts Othello into an Orsino who managed to carry Olivia off. Michael Kitchen's elfin Iago, likewise, is a dead ringer for Puck. Othello is apt to tousle his hair like a toy golliwog, and watch him scampering about with a parental smile.

Somne truth does develop between them, in their duets. Mr Burke does convey a sense of agonized perplexity, and he achieves passages of impressive, quiet eloquence. It is also natural for him to suspect no evil in Iago, for the good reason that there is none in Mr Kitchen. He sounds like a plaintive, worried little boy who outlines villainous plots like an exciting team game and drops poison in Othello's ear as if shamefacedly betraying a classroom prank to the headmaster.

An Iago with no evil; an Othello with no wrath. It does not leave much of the play.

Many thanks to Deb for digging out this review.