With its fibs, delusions and mislaid props, Shakespeare’s Othello is structured almost like farce – one that goes horribly wrong. In performance, cruel comedy and melodrama can lurch to the fore – but Tim Carroll’s sculptural new production stays serious. Intelligent, if too even-toned to thrill, it unfolds with rare clarity.
John Douglas Thompson’s Othello appears the epitome of calm – an unruffled, spellbinding speaker. Beaming when Desdemona arrives, it’s hard to believe their love could falter. Thompson and Juliet Rylance played these same roles in New York in 2009; the now mature casting (also including Edward Hogg’s ill-at-ease Cassio) would suggest cool heads who could easily resolve misunderstandings. These are no callow naifs – but that won’t save them.
Will Keen’s shaven-headed Iago is all gripe and snipe. His unassuming chat deflates people’s confidence like a slow puncture. In his plain buff uniform, he sounds calmly uninflected, the only sign of agitation fingers thrumming at his scabbard. He quietly crows at the idea that Othello will never again know peace.
The nastier Iago’s words, the softer he speaks. Similarly, goaded into jealousy, Othello sounds more sorrowful as his thoughts turn violent: Thompson’s “I will tear her all to pieces” is hollowed by distress. Carroll digs into characters who seem strangers to themselves – far later into the tragedy than you’d think possible, he locates nuggets of teasing affection for Thompson and Rylance, moments when their connection might rekindle.
Voices build in James Oxley’s plangent a capella score and the Jacobean costumes are sombre from beards to boots. On Judith Bowden’s set, a canister of tight threads descends to contain characters or create a thicket of their worst imaginings. Paule Constable’s lighting brings the drama – glowering at the textured back wall or transfixing speakers in shafts of light. On this spare stage guilt has nowhere to hide, except in hearts and minds.
Measured speaking illuminates characters such as Colin Hurley as Desdemona’s garrulous and intemperate father. Anastasia Hille’s troubled Emilia, worn down by Iago’s jibes, moves through upset and into late courage. Unusually, Carroll doesn’t shape Othello as a tragedy about race, and nor does he urge the pity of it. Rather, this production keeps a steady gaze on wavering humanity.
• At Royal Shakespeare theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until 23 November
