Nick Westrate and James Udom in Othello. Photo: Richard Termine
Marriage is a bloodbath, in director’s Carl Cofield’s tight, pumped rendition of Othello, offered free in Marcus Garvey Park by the Classical Theatre of Harlem. “This guy thinks his wife is cheating on him,” I heard a woman report to a friend on the phone immediately after a recent performance, “so he kills her! Then he kills himself. It was really good.”
It truly was, as CTH performances always are – a riveting communal event that includes optional pre-curtain box dinners for sale (curry chicken, collard greens . . .); a chance to chat with the actors pre-show at the edge of the raised stage; a thrilling fight drill (in this instance co-directed by Rick and Christian Sordelet); and then the performance itself.
Lights up (atmospheric effects throughout by Alan C. Edwards) and we get a handy intro to the military characters (modern-day costuming by Mika Eubanks) in the form of company promotion announcements. Iago (Nick Westrate), passed over, immediately starts stewing and plotting. Initially Westrate seems to lean heavily on a “bro” caricature, but it proves to be just one of many guises: Westrate’s portrayal gains dimensionality as Iago – mercurial and cagey – starts setting up a relational chessboard to maneuver Othello (James Udom, pillarlike at the outset, the very picture of moral fortitude) into blowing up his own life.
A good portion of the audience knows how all this will fadge. Still, it’s fascinating to watch how Iago infects Othello with his own insecurity. Though Iago heaps scorn on his spouse, Emilia, portrayed here as a troop member (Keren Lugo makes her sensible, sturdy), apparently he views her as his sole property to abuse. He alludes repeatedly to his suspicions that, prior to wooing Desdemona, “the Moor” found his way “’twixt my sheets.” Jealousy would motive enough. Clearly what Iago finds far more offensive is the fact that he has been publicly dissed: hence that stakes-setting opening scene.
Desdemona can come across as a bit of a simp, saccharine and submissive, but Isabel Arraiza gives her some boss-girl glamour, along with spine – which dwindles to a touching childlike quality as Desdemona allows Emilia to undress her for what most of us know will be her last night alive.
An uncredited dramaturg – Cofield, perhaps? – has taken liberties with the ending, but on the night I attended, the audience ate it up, with a surplus communal gasp. Noncanonical? No doubt. But Shakespeare, known to tinker with his own work, would likely have approved. What the Classical Theatre of Harlem audience gets – and has done, for 27 years – is not just a performance, but an experience.
Details: Othello, to July 27