I am honored to witness thunder and lightning. I am humbled to watch Shakespeare in pure English form and to see the Merchant of Venice in the hallowed halls of the Globe Theatre is something a Shakespearean neophyte can only hope, no…pray to experience. To review the performance of The Merchant is to mock the production. I have a confession to make; I’ve never seen a solid production of Shakespeare live. Never.

I’ve performed in one, but I am a neophyte…I have rolled around the iambic enough in my mouth to make it completely natural, second nature but to listen to RADA / LAMDA / National Theatre alumni unleash their souls in a flurry of quick witted banter, heart pulverizing exclaims and lung wrenching tears is the reason why Shakespeare is still holds performance water.

I’ve seen multiple screenings of Venice. I witnessed Stewart’s Shylock but completely preferred Suchet’s. Pacino’s was off the CHAIN. Yet Johnathan Pryce’s Shylock…I can only describe him in a single word: justified.

 

This is the Shylock I longed to see; the Shylock who is sensitive enough to be a man, a honorable man who curdles as sweet milk under the sun of oppression and Christian malice. To see the actual spit on his gaberdine; a venomous dribble that is frantically wiped, yet never quite clean.To absorb his methodical sharpening of the knife on the heel of his boot during the trial. To bear witness to the snatching and stomping of his yarmulke…to end the production with the soulful Hebrew chant as he is forcibly baptized as a Christian.  Unexpected tears ran down my cheeks. Chastised, stripped of kin, depleted of coin and then to be bleached of cultural identity? How much more must Shylock pay?

I am an initiate to Pryce’s work and he moved me. I am not a Game of Thrones fan, but if he is playing High Sparrow, I will become one.

Rachel Pickup‘s Portia was utterly AMAZING. Light, crisp…a shiv in the ribs yet a gentle nuzzle to the neck. Usually Portia is haughty, demeaning and verbally abusive like a crack of a wet whip, but Pickup’s take was genuinely humane turn:

‘Take the ducats, Shylock…walk away…just walk away. I know Antonio was/is an asshole but walk away.’

 

The supporting cast were just as lovely; sharp and tight and gave a roller coaster performance in the cold Spring night. A very poignant piece as the British elections and the struggle over immigration loom its shadow over the population.

 

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I’m not above asking for tips!

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