Review by Raphael Kohn
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Why does it feel so strange to see a Shakespeare production performed in period dress? So many productions nowadays seem to define themselves by a new, edgy take, setting the action in an unusual location (or complete lack of a location entirely), in modern, or futuristic, or downright confusing contexts. So when the cast step out in the RSC’s 2024 production of Othello in period costumes of the 1500s-1600s, all puffy lace and silks, it’s almost revolutionary.
It’s not exactly an easy task to stage Othello in 2024 in the first place. A director must contend with the racial politics of the text, and somehow resolve the tension between its values and today’s. They must also make it relevant, and fresh, to a modern audience. Tim Carroll’s production avoids getting too deep into the racial politics, with each reference to the titular character as ‘The Moor’ feeling somewhat brushed aside, delving deeper into characters’ relationships and mentalities.

Instead, this production at times feels centred on the antagonist, Iago, infested with jealousy and racism for army general Othello. He’s infuriated that Othello has married the daughter of a senator, and devises plot upon plot to bring Othello down. It’s a Shakespeare tragedy, so the ending won’t surprise anyone as far as the plot is concerned.
But despite the aforementioned use of ‘traditional’ costumes, Carroll’s production quickly establishes itself as anything but traditional. Actors may be draped in costume and set designer Judith Bowden’s period garments, but they find themselves on a bare, abstract stage, devoid of furniture. LED bars frame the stage above and below, as if forming ropes of a boxing ring.

The minimalism extends to the staging and performance too, with possibly one of the most static productions of a play I’ve seen. This isn’t to suggest that’s a bad thing. Rather, in staging much of the first half almost completely motionlessly, there’s a tension in the air you could practically cut with a knife. Most dialogue takes place between actors firmly planted in their places, with each soliloquy performed motionlessly. It works.
It's mainly centred on Iago, a spectacular performance from Will Keen whose bristling anger and jealousy is contained and compressed, an insidious antagonist rather than a caricatured villain. In his jittery and anxious energy comes a racially-motivated jealousy that seems to bubble under the surface, escaping in bursts rather than boiling over. Combined with a thin, almost trembling voice, he becomes something of a 17th-century incel, devastated by jealousy for Othello’s success with a beautiful woman (and of course, an intersectional hatred of others, with racist undertones throughout).
Meanwhile, John Douglas Thompson’s Othello, full of authority in his delivery of the text, delivers a mostly meaningful performance, in keeping with Carroll’s stylisation with his restraint. At times, his characterisation becomes inconsistent, bursting into anger at random moments, not quite delivering a unified and consistent portrayal. He’s paired with Juliet Rylance’s Desdemona, a victim of the plot with little of her own agency, but whose performance nonetheless which finds ways to break out of her passive role.

When it works in unity with the stylisation, it works wonderfully. Scenes blend one into the other, with frequently no lighting or set changes to delineate them. Each soliloquy, delivered centre stage and lit by Paule Constable darkly in spotlights, becomes a revelation of Shakespeare’s text, as if the words themselves come alive. James Oxley, composer of the play’s new music, gets the memo too: scoring it completely a capella for a lead quartet of singers, backed by the rest of the cast, the entire score a funerial and foreboding soundscape. But the music is never overwhelming, and rarely appears much of the time, instead letting scene after scene play out in near-silence.
And then, it begins to not work at all. As the second act progresses, the text-focussed stasis crumbles and disintegrates, staged much more fluidly and traditionally. The halves are completely disconnected, as if Carroll had only rehearsed half of the play and then left the other half to be created in the space of a day. It’s not exactly clear why it’s so inconsistent, but the end result is a play which seems to have been fractured by its interval and not put in a cast to fuse back together.
It's a shame, because what worked so well in its stylisation in the first half falls apart so badly. It comes back in flashes, with the stasis returning at times, especially in what should be a pulse-racing fight scene in the second half. Perhaps it’s an odd choice of when to return to the first half’s ideas, lit in motionless spotlights and with the peak of the action staged in a way that can only be described as weird, unfortunately provoking unintended (though scattered) laughs from some of the audience. The result is a bad reflection on the creativity of the start of the play, which is more of a shame than anything else.

It's not all a mess. The most heartbreaking and tragic moment of the play is staged wonderfully, stripping the action down in darkness to provoke real gasps from those seated near me on the press night. It’s moments like this that prove the core ideas really are there, and are excellent, but have simply got lost in translation a bit from notepad to performance.
It could do with a hefty trim as well, clocking in at over 3 hours (including an interval). But if it did, and if its acts were better reconciled thematically, then the creative centre of this production is something very strong indeed. Frankly, it’s worth seeing for Will Keen’s Iago alone, less a heavy-handedly brutish racist, but something more insidious, more dangerous, and more fearsome. If only the production’s overall execution matched his precision.
Othello plays at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 23rd November 2024. Tickets from https://www.rsc.org.uk/othello/
Photos by Johan Persson