Murder in the Park

A captivating Othello

by Bill Rodriguez

OTHELLO: THE MOOR OF VENICE. By William Shakespeare. Directed by Sanford Robbins. At Westerly Shakespeare in the Park through August 9.

There's something magical about any Shakespeare In the Park series. The one at Wilcox Park in Westerly has been especially enchanting over the years, especially when the play's setting has been outdoors, such as a midsummer night's frolic or a tempest under the stars. But I haven't seen a more impressive production by them than this year's Othello, which goes to show that human nature can be the most captivating nature of all.

Theaters have been trying to make the motivation of the Moor of Venice convincing for 400 years now, and the task hasn't become less challenging. It's now more so, in fact. Back in Elizabethan England, any action committed by someone as exotic and unfathomable as a blackamoor could be accepted as quixotic and arbitrary, like a tantrum from a cannibal. Whenever Shakespeare had hot-blooded actions to be performed, the setting tended to be Mediterranean. And military leader Othello, the archetype of jealous husbands, wasn't just Mediterranean, wasn't one of those assimilated Spanish Moors fondling astrolabes, but rather a North African version.

Since blacks aren't inscrutable outsiders to modern audiences, viewers of Othello may wince when his murderous rage is prompted by flimsy evidence. But director Sanford Robbins and actor Ricardo Pitts-Wiley manage to give us an Othello whose temper we can believe could short-circuit his judgment. Pitts-Wiley's Moor starts out self-confident enough under racist accusations ("an old black ram has been tupping at your white ewe," Iago anonymously torments Desdemona's father) -- it's a battle, like many before. But he flies into a fury at the first suggestion by Iago of infidelity -- a risky level to reach early, since there can be no higher step left to take. But confrontations with his new young wife reveal emotions that are more complex, and by the time Othello takes matters into his own throat-clenching hands, we do have a murderer more nuanced than most.

As in many a production of Othello, the bad guy steals the show. Iago is not only Shakespeare's most malevolent villain but all of English literature's. His evil is so pure. The ensign is passed over for commission as Othello's Lieutenant, and the act sends him into a kind of ethical free fall. Everyone involved must suffer with him, in spades. From word one, David Anthony Smith is a perfectly convincing and fascinating Iago. Wisely, the character isn't allowed to twirl mustachios as an unctuous villain. No, this is a knave capable of delight in his black work. Unmoored, if you'll pardon the expression, from moral compunctions by Othello's bruising his ego, he schemes with the zeal of someone discovering a true vocation. Yet the character's sometimes whimsical enjoyment of his plotting is like decorations on a dagger that remains ready to strike deep. When the amusing idea dawns on Iago to frame Cassio (Lex Woutas), who was made Lieutenant, Smith ever so slowly, rigidly, rises from stooping, and suddenly there is nothing funny about this tower of vindictive wrath.

Desdemona is another pleasure to behold, as Melissa Chalsma brings her to life. So many of Shakespeare's beset virgins are as much endangered by their one-dimensionality than by their particular peril. Chalsma rescues Othello's bride from wide-eyed vapidity, showing her innocence by making her earnest, and trusting that to be enough. By the time Othello asks her if she lost the handkerchief that he gave her, and which was planted in Cassio's room, we see that the actress's choice of making her feel so intensely was good for the plot as well. This spirited young woman loves too thoroughly to easily give up her new husband's trust in even a minor matter.

Other actors stand out as well in this capable Equity cast. David Melville as co-conspirator Roderigo can whine with his posture as well as his voice. Woutas's Cassio gains our sympathy without getting goody-goody on us, and Iago's wife Emilia is every bit her husband's match in determination. Even the incidental Act II character Bianca, Cassio's strumpet, gets considerable presence from Kelli Kerslake. (She also gets a hilariously bawdy, and subtle, dress from costumer Mary Myers.) Director Robbins stages this breezily all but never rushes a key moment.

One puzzling touch is the set design by Marcus Abbott. His six squarish columns, each simulating a stack of four cubes, look like either Japanese modern lighting fixtures or a magician's stage illusion. Either way they distract rather than contribute to the atmosphere, even when they are wheeled about to arbitrarily vary the scene set.

However, sponsored by Colonial Theatre and with admission by donation, this Othello is gripping enough to make you forget whatever's in the background. Even bucolic splendor.