Othello Review

Othello’s cult-casting, reuniting Dominic West and Clarke Peters from box-set favourite The Wire, has made this Crucible show a sizzling hot ticket, and yet despite the showbiz buzz there’s not an ounce of gimmickry in Daniel Evans’ muscular production.  The setting is about as far away from the urban sprawl of modern Baltimore as you can imagine, a traditional cutlasses and codpieces set-up which allows us to focus on the psychological clarity of Evans’ direction. The action is as carefully choreographed as the geometric design of Morgan Large’s deceptively simple set. On Desdemona’s first entrance her veil prefigures the white chiffon with which Othello will strangle her; in Cassio’s extravagant embrace of her we see a physical ease between them which Iago will later exploit to rouse The Moor’s jealousy. Many such details and gestures in this rigorous production build to lend a sense of tragic inevitability to a familiar story.

The same careful coherence can be seen in Dominic West’s performance as Iago. By choosing a Sheffield accent West builds upon the conspiratorial relationship with the audience already afforded him by Iago’s many soliloquies. But it’s not simply a trick to get the locals onside, there’s a clear class distinction at work. This Iago has nothing of the princely bearing of Peters’ Othello or the urbane wit of Gwilym Lee’s Cassio, tellingly revealed in the line, “he hath a daily beauty in his life that makes me ugly.” It’s clear that West’s shaven-haired, rough and ready, soldier has been at the bottom of the pile and resents his officer-class peers who can think of no better description of him than ‘honest Iago’, a patronising epithet which becomes increasingly ironic as his deception deepens.

This brawling and brutish Iago also opens up a deal of comedy in the role often missing from many performances, especially with Brodie Ross’ whingingly pathetic Roderigo as a foil.  Iago’s meditation on the praise of women has all the banter of a pub raconteur but also reveals his own misogyny and fractured marriage. But West’s Iago is not all mugging to the audience and Yorkshire bluff, there are glimpses of chilling evil when he clinically advises Othello to strangle Desdemona rather than poison her and in his glassy-eyed stare at the corpse-laden bed in the final scene.

Peters’ Othello is less consistent. He makes an impressive entrance full of dignity and elegance belying the animalistic language Iago uses to denigrate him. His initial tenderness to Lily James’ girlish Desdemona lends a touching pathos to the murder scene. While his decision to give Othello an African accent lends a cooing quality to his lover’s vows and conversely a sharp edge to his jealous rages, although sometimes at the cost of diction. It’s a compelling performance, and yet Othello’s corruption from stately general to wrathful avenger can at times be erratic, losing the psychological credibility seen elsewhere in the production.

In a play that tessellates around masculinity and male relationships, Alexandra Gilbreath’s Emilia is a finely wrought performance of a worldly wench so affection-starved by Iago that she steals the incriminating handkerchief simply to get his attention rather than out of any more malign motive.  When she realises this small action has contributed to his deadly web of deception she fearlessly reveals his villainy, desperately attempting to avenge her dead mistress in a show of heroism unmatched by any of the male characters.

Othello runs at the Crucible in Sheffield until 15 October, call 0114 249 6000 for tickets.