November issue - Magazine - Page 19
Glenside
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ENTERTAINMENT
Othello the Musical
This is the time of year when we might treat ourselves to a live stage performance.
Rose Bakker recounts her memorable visit to a provincial theatre production of
Shakespeare’s tragic tale. A Moorish military commander, Othello, kills his
wife Desdemona out of jealousy, egged on by his resentful ensign Iago who was
passed over for promotion. But this version was anything but tragic...
Maybe the theatre should have stayed closed that
night, perhaps that would have been best. For them,
though, not for us. Our crowd was celebrating
something - a divorce, possibly, or even a driving test
failure - we needed little excuse and always had a
cheerful time. And being a cultured lot, we chose the
Shakespeare play rather than the ‘Shakespeare’s
Head’. I am ever grateful.
It was a production in a small new theatre
struggling to rekindle the provincial flame of theatre
going doused by the demolition of the old Royal
theatre. The actors were young and enthusiastic and,
as we knew later, valiant. I hope any survivors now
prefer no scenery at all to clever but insecure
fabrications that wave at the audience, which was, in
this case, a largish lump of uniformly resentful
schoolgirls stuck dead centre before the more-thanintimate tiny stage. Bordered by 10 of us and a
scattering of other adults, it was neither a big nor a
sympathetic gathering.
In order to avoid scene-shifting in so small a
place, the various sets were all provided by one
changeable structure that was sometimes a castle
wall or or a tent, sometimes furniture or a rustic
bridge, all of a similar bilious green. This must have
been an early attempt at such dramatic space-saving
for obviously a lot still needed to be learnt. It was far
from steady, and the great wonder was not so much
that it could be used in so many ways but that
disintegration was not its next great transformation.
In the middle of this dangerous-looking stage set
was a sort of wishing well. You could see it was
made of cardboard. Perhaps in order to add
movement to his speech, the actor playing Cassio, a
soldier, sat down very cautiously on its edge. He
should have done this even more carefully, for he sat
on his sword. And unfortunately when he got up
again you could see that it was also made of
cardboard. Within its scabbard it curved gently round
his very ample rear. This got a big happy laugh.
Things were going well - the early giggles of the
schoolgirls were vindicated.
If they had deliberately staged that play for farce
it could hardly have been improved on. Cues were
missed, characters came in unexpectedly at the
wrong doors, wigs sat awry, lines were forgotten,
actions were inappropriate and vital props mislaid.
Reproachful and aggrieved looks from the stage, plus
the threatening appearance of the scenery, only fed
our steadily rising hilarity. We enjoyed everything.
The significant scene where Desdemona drops the
handkerchief Othello gave her was bungled - we
loved it. Iago started to enjoy himself, too, and
proved a fine ham-actor. It was utterly in keeping
when, in the murder scene, the bed, recently
converted from a drawbridge by some cunning
scientific drop mechanism, collapsed under the tragic
pair. With a squawk Desdemona disappeared, and
presumably expired beneath it. Othello extracted
himself with a misplaced balletic agility, though
otherwise with poor grace. He had not quite caught
the spirit of this possessed performance and its gifted
Grand Finale. (Poor chap, a man of imposing
appearance and African ancestry, he lacked the acting
experience to ride out our gales of laughter. Amid
dark mutterings of racial prejudice he left the show,
and the production, despite further gallant efforts by
the remaining cast, subsequently folded.)
Othello about to murder Desdemona on a rather more
substantial bed than featured in Rose’s memorable production!
There is a trend now to turn everything, including
classic stark drama and bleak tragedy, into a musical.
So quite apart from the conventional opera it’s only a
matter of time before we see announced That Fella,
Othella! perhaps, or Not Dead Yet, Desdemona? I
look forward to this. It will probably be a competent
and smooth production. And if in the death scene,
accompanied by a 12-piece band and a large dancing
chorus, the bed falls to pieces, I shall be very
surprised.
But if it doesn’t, extremely disappointed.
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