Honesty: A Review of the Merchant of Venice at Stratford Festival

Jim Zhang, November 2013

It is not uncommon for those viewing a performance of The Merchant of Venice to leave the theatre

partway through the play on the verge of tears. Although Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice has

traditionally been classified as a comedy, modern scholars now consider it a “tragicomedy” for its frank

and brutal treatment of such heavy themes as racism and discrimination. The play, once a comedic

glorification of a prevalent anti-Jewish sentiment, has become a stark depiction of cruelty.

Antoni Cimolino takes full advantage of the dual nature of The Merchant of Venice with his production

at the Stratford Festival. Swinging between tragedy and comedy with the same aloof grace of a

wrecking ball, he uses the numerous episodes of comic relief found in The Merchant of Venice not only

to ease tension, but also to emphasize the play's more serious scenes by contrast.

When Antoine Yared plays his role as the Prince of Arragon, he plays it in a whimsical, almost self-

mocking manner. His highly exaggerated flourishes draw out boisterous laughter from the audience. He

establishes a trivial, lighthearted environment. We all join in the persection of Spanish stereotypes. And

this makes Scott Wentworth's impassioned recitation of Shylock's soliloquy in the very next scene all

the more shocking. While some of us are still recovering from laughing fits induced by Yared's spins,

Shylock laments his monstrous treatment at the hands of a prejudiced society — and this is directed not

only to the offending characters on stage, but also to the audience members who were, just minutes

ago, ridiculing the Prince of Arragon out of the same kind of prejudice. Cimolino insinuates that we are

all part of a great evil inherent in society, and that's a hard pill to swallow.

Yet there is another dimension in Wentworth's Shylock. He is not a lying dog whose sole purpose is to

be kicked about mercilessly by the Christian cast. He has fangs. And, when brought over the edge by

the bullying of Venetian street children, the vandalism of his mezuzah, and his daughter's elopement

with a Christian, he very understandably goes rabid for vengeance. His aim in life becomes the

collection of a pound of Antonio's flesh, rejecting even Bassanio's offer of twice the original loan. But

while some interpretations would present this as evidence that Shylock has become an uncontrolled

monster, Cimolino takes a more dignified approach. He presents Shylock's vengefulness as a tragic

flaw rather than a base characteristic. He may be filled with rage, but in the context of his misery, his

rage becomes oddly justified. It contributes to his humanity rather than detracting from it.

Portraying Shylock as neither a stock villain or stock victim, Cimolino imbues him with all the flaws

and ambiguity of a fully fleshed human being. His character demands sympathy, yet he wants neither

pity nor scorn. And that makes his suffering far more believable and sympathetic.

The great virus of bigotry, meanwhile, propagates to the rest of the cast. Antonio, no longer a valiant

selfless merchant, seems to acquire an ideologically motivated marytr complex. Jessica and Lorenzo

become narrow-minded hedonists. Even Portia's actions betray her derision for her suitors' national

stereotypes.

So who does the audience have left to root for? There remains one major character who manages to

remain detached from the indiscriminate bloodbath: Bassanio. Indeed, Tyrell Crews plays a

wonderfully airy Bassanio, perhaps to the point of flatness, but a welcome foil to the rest of the play's

characters who have become excruciatingly contemptible. Focused only on winning Portia's hand in

marriage, Bassanio simply has no time to develop a deeply set hatred for any particular race or religion.

Bassanio has a simple, childlike innocence, satisfied as long as he stands by his friends and achieves

his goals. One can't help but feel genuinely delighted when he achieves his happy ending with Portia.

Happy ending? Then again, Cimolino's choice to set The Merchant of Venice in 1930s Italy, at the time

of Mussolini, subverts the traditional happy ending of the play. Although this change in setting is only

very subtly referred to throughout the play, it creates a potential for discrmination that, as we have seen,

was thoroughly utilized. Actions that are monstrous by today's standards are made eerily accepted. And

an ominous radio broadcast alluding to the beginning of World War II turns a joyful end bitter,

emphasizing with rigid finality that the play was not an endorsement.

Indeed, in a world that has seen the atrocities of the Holocaust, it has become impossible to see The

Merchant of Venice without recognizing its dark undertones. And Cimolino's production for the

Stratford Festival attests to this. A modern retake of one of Shakespeare's most vicious plays, Cimolino

reshapes The Merchant of Venice for a more sensitive modern audience. Although Shakespeare's

original title page for the play emphasized “the extreme cruelty of Shylock the Jew”, Cimolino opts to

emphasize the extreme cruelty of everyone but the carefree Bassanio. And it can't have been more

honest.