The Classical Theatre of Harlem’s poignant outdoor staging of the Bard’s play emphasizes the effects of the tragic protagonist’s war trauma.
By Charles Isherwood
In an early scene in “Othello” the title character recalls in lush language how his recounting of the daring and dangerous exploits he endured as a warrior transfixed and moved his new wife, Desdemona:
I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;
Of hairbreadth ‘scapes i’ th’ imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe
And sold to slavery. Of my redemption thence
He concludes with the stirring lines: “She loved me for the dangers I had passed, and I loved her that she did pity them.” But in the Classical Theatre of Harlem’s absorbing new production of “Othello,” performed outdoors in Marcus Garvey Park and starring a magnetic James Udom in the title role, it becomes clear that the dangers this noble general endured have not really passed. In addition to winning him the hand of Desdemona, they have left an invisible scar behind, a grievous case of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Among the climactic scenes in the play is the harrowing moment when Othello, goaded into a frenzy of jealousy by the invidious machinations of Iago (Nick Westrate), collapses to the ground in a fit. Here, however, that is merely the most severe sign of Othello’s mental fragility: The character has previously appeared to be subject to sudden moments of distress, when his mind seems to stall and stutter as the psychological wounds of war overcome him.
It’s an insightful and effective innovation in director Carl Cofield’s otherwise straightforward—and effectively streamlined—staging. (The evening runs under two hours, with no intermission.) We intuit how the horrors of his past make Othello more susceptible to Iago’s manipulation, provoking him to see danger, and evil, where it is absent: in the unspoiled souls of his beloved Desdemona (Isabel Arraiza) and the loyal Cassio (Orlando Grant).
PTSD was not, of course, a recognized mental disorder in Shakespeare’s day, or the unspecified period in which the play is set. Mr. Cofield’s production takes place, like almost all versions I have seen in the past couple of decades, in the contemporary world: The soldiers are clad in camouflage, guns (mostly) replace daggers and swords, and characters stalk the stage with electronic tablets in hand.
In a brief prologue, a trio of military promotions are announced, with Iago named ensign while his rival Cassio becomes lieutenant—second in command to Othello—and Iago’s wife, Emilia (Keren Lugo), here also a member of the Venetian army, earns staff sergeant status. This lends an intriguing additional layer to Iago’s festering, consuming hatred: Even his own wife is a potential rival, in addition to, he believes, having slept with Othello. (Hence the promotion, you can imagine him viciously thinking.)
A scene from the production. PHOTO: RICHARD TERMINE
Mr. Udom, born in Nigeria, speaks with a slight accent that underscores his status as an outsider, a Moor among Venetians. He brings a supple lyricism to the verse that has a gently captivating quality—the accent brings its own beauty—making Othello’s gradual loss of his eloquence under the psychic strain of his growing jealousy the more pitiful to watch. His is a naturally noble and gracious Othello, grave, dignified and touching in his devotion to Desdemona, so when he is driven to murder her—the killing is staged with chilling realism (no pillow necessary)—the shock of it has a searing force.
Mr. Westrate makes for a cleanly spoken and brutally cool Iago. There’s no snarling menace in his interpretation, just the eerie, relentless pragmatism of a strategic mind at work. He takes no sensual pleasure in his destruction of Othello and Cassio, just the studied satisfaction of a sociopath watching with appreciation, as if from a distance, the malignant results of his handiwork.
As Cassio, Mr. Grant gives a likewise polished performance, full of youthful sincerity and guilelessness. The scene in which he is prodded into drinking too much has a frat-boys-at-play quality that underscores how he is an easy mark for Iago. The friendly passages between Cassio and Ms. Arraiza’s Desdemona have an easygoing warmth. And while Ms. Arraiza has trouble, as some other actors in the role have in productions I have seen, reconciling the character’s innocence with the contemporary context, when Desdemona fights for her life it is with an arresting, combative force that feels true to today.
Ms. Lugo’s Emilia, her role as Desdemona’s companion or maid now transformed essentially to close friend, has an appropriate military bearing and exudes a formidable intelligence bordering on the cynical when it comes to espousing her opinions on men’s hypocrisy on matters of sex and gender. And in the small role of Bianca, with whom Cassio has a dalliance, the terrific Rebecca Ana Peña makes a fiery impression, savagely fighting back against Iago’s brutality.
But Mr. Udom’s affecting turn in the title role appropriately dominates the production. His Othello is hounded into a betrayal of his probity and hard-earned honor not just by the villainy of Iago but by the demons of his past. The toxins bred in his mind by the brutalities of war cannot be eradicated, even if he can describe his sufferings with such deceptively majestic language.
Othello
Richard Rodgers Amphitheater, Marcus Garvey Park, 18 Mt. Morris Park West, New York; free; cthnyc.org; closes July 26
— Mr. Isherwood is the Journal’s theater critic.
Photo by Richard Termine