Sunday, April 12, 2015

Othello (1965)

Year 7, Day 102 - 4/12/15 - Movie #2,002

BEFORE: Laurence Olivier carries over for the first of three Shakespearean adaptations, and I might as well start with the most recent and work backwards, considering how this year's been going.  



THE PLOT: A general's marriage is destroyed when a vengeful lieutenant convinces him that his new wife has been unfaithful.

FOLLOW-UP TO: "O" (Movie #1,526)

AFTER: I really haven't covered that much Shakespeare so far - I watched that modern version of "Romeo + Juliet", plus adaptations of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and "The Merchant of Venice". On the other hand, so much of modern drama draws from his work that when you consider adaptations like "O" and "10 Things I Hate About You", perhaps I've viewed much more Shakespearean stuff than I realize.  Remember how "My Own Private Idaho" turned out to be a re-working of "Henry IV, Part I", and isn't every romance indebted to "Romeo and Juliet" in some way?  But this week, I'm going back to the original source material.  What feels strange is trying to get my ear to recognize the Bard's long, flowery prose, after a week of listening to the Marx Brothers' staccato-like puns and insults. 

For this one, the best way to watch it was to keep the Wikipedia plot summary up on my iPad as I watched the film, trying not to look to far ahead, but noting each plot point as it passed so I could fully understand Iago's intricate scheme to discredit Desdemona and further his own ends. (I think.)  I'm also reviewing the plot points of the basketball-themed adaptation "O", and I appeared to have some problems with that one in the arena of character motivations.  

Olivier was the first artistic director of the Royal National Theatre (carrying over the core repertory company from the Old Vic at the time), and this staging of "Othello" was their third production, running in 1964, and the film was, more or less, a capturing of that event.  Allegedly the great Olivier developed a terrible case of stage fright during this production.  The creation of the film was justified at the time because of how hard it was to get tickets for the stage production.  

However, we now have to discuss Olivier's use of black make-up, there's no getting around it.  Technically, Shakespeare's play doesn't say how dark Othello's skin was, the term "Moor" at the time could have referred to someone of several ethnicities, possibly Arab, possibly Indian, but clearly old Will was trying to make a point about being different, and skin tone was the most obvious way to accomplish that.  Does that justify the very Caucasian actor Olivier covering himself in dark body paint, and lowering his voice substantially to create his version of an African man?  I'm not so sure.  

"How about playing Iago, Mr. Olivier?  Jeez, he's got more lines than Othello does, and he's more devious, he's the architect of this whole convoluted plot, wouldn't you rather play him?  Just think of the money we'll save on make-up alone, right, Mr. Olivier, sir?"  But no, Othello's the character with the raw emotions, the part with the most drama attached to it, essentially he's the screamiest character on stage in this one.  No, there's no dissuading creative types sometimes when they seem to be crossing a line or pushing the envelope (just trust me on this point, OK?).  

Still, at a time like 1965, smack dab in the middle of the Civil Rights movement, knowing that there were actors out there like Sidney Poitier who could have played this role, Olivier's choice to forge ahead as the Moor Othello seems downright questionable, to say the least.  I tried really hard to get past the casting and just take in Shakespeare's play the way it was intended, but it was difficult for me.  Being 2 hours and 45 minutes long didn't help my concentration either.

Also starring Maggie Smith (last seen in "California Suite"), Frank Finlay (last seen in "The Pianist"), Derek Jacobi (last seen in "My Week With Marilyn" - hmm, that's odd), Joyce Redman (last seen in "Tom Jones"), Robert Lang, Kenneth Mackintosh.

RATING: 3 out of 10 Venetian nobles

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