Shakespeare Theatre's Merchant of Venice

The Merchant of Venice is a production of the type that is becoming all too frequent at the Shakespeare Theatre: tons of style, not much substance. Director Ethan McSweeney sets the play in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, during prohibition. Twenty-four actors fill the stage as gangsters, newspaper boys, devout Jews, and Italian playboys. Suits, hats, dresses, even a real life dog and full size car appear in this production. But for all this, the production doesn’t manage to make you care about the characters.

The Merchant of Venice is maybe the third of fourth production that solves the problem of how to use the enormous space of Sidney Harman Hall by putting a giant staircase center stage (set design by Andrew Lieberman). But McSweeney isn’t as capable of making this set work as the previous directors have been. No character actually climbs these stairs as if they are going anywhere. Instead, they all run up ten or so steps, turn around, deliver a speech, and run back down. It feels unnatural; especially in contrast with the realism McSweeney has worked so hard to put into the rest of the production, with multiple accents, and detailed costuming.

The accents certainly create a believable Manhattan world inhabited by all types. But they do more harm than good, because for the most part they slow down the text delivery and inhibit understandability. The play becomes rather lifeless in the wake of these many voices. The Prince of Arragon (Vaneik Echeverria) is played as a silly man who spends his day on a yacht, petting his fluffy white cat. It might have worked well had it not been for the fact that even knowing this play, I could not understand a single word he said.

Amidst this world of commerce is trapped the agonized Shylock. Mark Nelson’s performance gets rather buried in this production. He is stuck in a permanent state of woe. He growls his lines in his throat, and his voice shakes on every vowel. The result, again, is that the text is not being driven forward.

Bringing a much-needed breath of freshness is Julia Coffey’s Portia. She plays Portia as a spoiled rich heiress, one who is used to a life a privilege. Coffey creates a likeable character, all the while refusing to shy away from Portia’s faults. As such, she is the most engaging person on that stage.

Nerissa (Liz Wisan) is less Portia’s maid, and more her personal assistant, or even chief of staff. She dresses in business suits and carries portfolios. On the one hand, you absolutely know who this Nerissa is in this world. On the other hand, the costuming makes the actress look older and rather dowdy, so her relationship with Gratiano (Aubrey Deeker) makes no sense whatsoever.

The Merchant of Venice is a nasty play, and the most successful productions I’ve seen are the ones that embrace that quality. Those are the productions that make you think about the way we treat each other, the ones that stay with you after the curtain has fallen. But this Merchant isn’t nasty at all. There is hardly any danger. Through the talents of Coffey and Deeker, the final scene really picks up, but when the argument over the rings is the most dangerous part of the play, there is something fundamentally wrong with the production. Props to Deeker for creating the only other moment of true tension, at the end of the court scene: Gratiano runs up the stairs after Shylock, who has been told he must turn Christian, and rips off his yarmulke.

There are a few other small moments that shine. During the contract scene where Shylock promises the ducats to Antonio, this production has the clearest reading of the line “If it please you to dine with us” I have ever seen. The line is a taunt to Shylock – his religion does not permit him to eat with Gentiles, and it is a moment easily lost. But here the line is infused with malicious teasing, emphasis on the word "dine," making it absolutely clear to us what is happening.

When Bassanio reads the letter from Antonio, the final line reads, “if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.” Portia’s response is "O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!” Textually, she is referring to Bassanio as “love.” Coffey plays the line as “O” (I see what’s up) and “love” as referencing the love mentioned in the letter. It’s a realization of the men’s relationship, and it plays beautifully.

2 stars
Though July 24