Review - The Merchant of Venice: The Flesh Failure

It would certainly be an interesting experience for modern playgoers to travel back in time and see how The Merchant of Venice was first received by Shakespeare's audiences. Those only familiar with the play's famous, "Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions..." speech, spoken by the moneylender Shylock, might just assume the author meant it to be a drama attacking anti-Semitic tendencies of the day.

But The Merchant of Venice was first billed as a comedy; a merry romp of amusing lovers who get their happy ending by outsmarting a nasty villain, whose fate might have been seen in the play's premiering days as a hilarious punch line, or maybe even an inspiring opportunity for reformation. It took over 200 years for actors to start interpreting Shylock as a sympathetic character. Before then (and in German productions Hitler supported during his reign) the character was traditionally interpreted as a hideous stereotype. But maybe Shakespeare was pulling something over on his audiences because Shylock does absolutely nothing villainous in the play. His "crime" is simply being a Jew who dares to stand up for his rights when he is wronged by anti-Semitic Christians, but back in the day that might have been enough to send audiences happily out having enjoyed witnessing his downfall.

Director Daniel Sullivan's completely engaging and emotionally troubling production at the Delacorte certainly plays up the comedy. Much of evening is very, very funny, though never at the expense of the Jews. But as the evening progresses, it becomes more difficult to laugh at the romantic antics because the supposed heroes have grown unlikeable, particularly after a horrific silent scene added by Sullivan that brings Shylock's story to a humiliating close. The director buttons the play with an equally chilling visual.

Jess Goldstein's costumes set the evening in the Edwardian Period, a continuous reminder of the troublesome decades approaching, with the Christians looking snazzy in their colorful getups as opposed to the shadowy tones worn by the Jews. Mark Wendland's set places a ticker tape machine center stage with a manually operated exchange board dominating stage right. Tall black iron gates that circle the stage on multiple tracks suggest both the exclusivity of high finance and the entrapment of the ghetto.

The drama begins (or the comedy, if you prefer) when the title character, Antonio (the excellent Byron Jennings playing the role with understated arrogance), arrives at the office of moneylender Shylock (Al Pacino) to secure a loan of 3,000 ducats on behalf of his friend, Bassanio (a goofily romantic and charming Hamish Linklater), a youth of noble birth who has squandered away his money. Bassanio wants to use the cash to travel to Belmont and woo the wealthy and available Portia (Lily Rabe). The merchant would have loaned the money himself but with all of his ships out at sea he has no ready cash available.

Shylock and Antonio do not have a pleasant history. The Christian regularly cuts into the Jew's business by loaning out money interest-free and once spat upon him for good measure. So the moneylender plays a little game with his rival by foregoing the normal interest and instead requiring a pound of Antonio's flesh if the loan is not paid in three months time. Happy to not pay interest and confident that his ships will be returning in plenty of time, Antonio agrees to the terms.

Of course, if Shylock was a villain he would have gone into the bargain with some previous knowledge of Antonio's ships being detained or would have done something to cause a delay. But no, it's pure fate that makes Antonio unable to come up with the cash and Shylock intends to be paid exactly as is stated in their agreement.

Pacino's soft-spoken, hunched over Shylock is a man who has learned to play humble, perhaps at his most acidic when speaking civilly with the merchant, but who is capable of violent proclamation in response to attacks claiming he is being unduly vengeful. Sullivan peppers the production with everyday reminders of the indignities Shylock and his people suffer every day (including a parade featuring a horned Jew puppet), increasing pathos for the character, so that when his own daughter, Jessica (Heather Lind), steals a good hunk of his wealth, converts, and runs off with her Christian lover, Lorenzo (Bill Heck), the actor's rage is frightening and heart-breaking.

But Shylock, no matter how well played, is still a featured role and in Lily Rabe, Sullivan provides a Portia more than worthy of starring status. As the romantically frustrated prize whose deceased father's will demands can only be wed when a suitor of noble birth correctly chooses one of three metal casks, Rabe exudes a hilariously dry wit when ruminating on the flaws of her would-be husbands (though a crack about the Prince of Morocco's skin color has been deleted) and radiates with world-weary, intelligent charm.

Nyambi Nyambi has a marvelously comedic cameo as the pompous Moroccan Prince attempting to win Portia's hand, as does Max Wright as a self-effacing Duke taking his shot. Jesse L. Martin as Bassanio's genial and lusty pal, Gratiano, Marianne Jean-Baptiste as the maid who entices his heart and Jesse Tyler Ferguson, in the clowning role of Shylock's employee, Launcelot, all contribute fine supporting turns to this excellent production.

Photos by Joan Marcus: Top: Al Pacino; Center: Lily Rabe and Marianne Jean-Baptiste; Bottom: Hamish Linklater and Jesse L. Martin.

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"I didn't do anything."

"You're white."

That's what justice, at least in this particular case, boils down to in playwright/director David Mamet's emotional button-pusher, Race. The truth is irrelevant and the winning side is the one that can make its fiction the most believable.

On Monday, Race will be the only new play running on Broadway. A week from Monday it will be the only play on Broadway period. And while I wasn't especially fond of Race when it opened in December, the boisterously responsive audience with which I took in a performance from the play's new cast suggests this one might be in for a very healthy run.

Newcomers to Mamet will probably find Race more interesting than those familiar with his other works. All the characteristics that satirists use to spoof the style of the author's more familiar plays are there; the clipped, testosterone-driven dialogue, the uncensored language, the self-centered characters with a cold, unsentimental view of the world. Race is a bit like what would happen if the professor from Oleanna was getting legal advice from the Hollywood execs of Speed-the-Plow.

But in replacing three of the four cast members with actors who give very different takes on the characters, Mamet, who also directs, has given the play an interesting new angle and a surprisingly healthy dose of vulnerability.

But first, a recap: Richard Thomas, the only holdover from the original cast, plays Charles Strickland, a wealthy white man accused of raping a young black woman in a hotel room. He's left his previous attorney and is now asking black and white partners Henry Brown (Dennis Haysbert) and Jack Lawson (Eddie Izzard), men with a reputation for winning by any means necessary, to take on his case. He insists he's innocent but the attorneys are more concerned with the guilt and anger Americans feel when confronted with black vs. white situations than they are with the facts. Observing and assisting is a young black associate, Jack's protégé, Susan, played by Afton C. Williamson. The Situation regarding how she came to be hired by the firm also comes into play.

As with Oleanna, this is more of a theatrical discussion than a play. The characters are representatives of points of view and make provocative pronouncements that can stimulate lively post-theatre conversations. ("There is nothing a white person can say to a black person about race which is not both incorrect and offensive. Nothing.") But unlike James Spader and David Alan Grier, who cruised the dialogue along at a confident, articulate, masters-of-the-universe pace, Izzard and Haysbert give us partners that perhaps are not as accomplished as the previous pair. The rough edges of Lawson and Brown suggest the boys have much more to lose this time around.

Whereas Grier's Brown was a dark-humored shark, Haysbert gives us a no-nonsense pit bull; dominating discussions with deep-voiced directness. There is no finesse to his Brown's style but he sure ups the tension of the evening. As his partner, Izzard's version of the character also lacks the slickness of his predecessor's interpretation. Hints of panic and confusion visibly rise as he finds himself trapped corners that his talent for quick-thinking thought he had covered. The biggest gain to the play is the addition of Williamson, who began the run as an understudy. She adds texture to a role that might seem underwritten with slight slips from Susan's professional manner that hint at a more streetwise past. The clashes between her and Brown, both verbal and silent, resonate more forcefully as the two black characters suspiciously evaluate each other's method for survival in their white-dominated world. Thomas continues to impress in his small role, projecting the proper privileged naiveté that is almost comical in its earnestness.

The play's strength lies in its cynical humor ("It's a complicated world full of misunderstandings. That's why we have lawyers.") and explorations of the complexities of plotting a defense. But the conclusion, at least in Mamet's world, is predictable, even if the motivation for it is unclear. Race surely entertains, but for an issue-related theatre piece it tells us nothing we haven't already heard. However, those who enjoyed the play the first time around are likely to find a visit to see this new company's take on the material very worthwhile.

Photos by Carol Rosegg: Top: Eddie Izzard; Bottom: Dennis Haysbert and Richard Thomas.

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