Shakespeare vs. New York's Jews (2nd comment)

This weekend was New Yorkers' last chance to see Al Pacino as Shylock in The Public Theatre's Merchant of Venice"“ for free. All you needed to do was stand in line all night.

Last chance for Philadelphians, too. I did my all-nighter last week, and I must say: The 18 hours flew by. I spent most of the night talking with three college students from Staten Island and a Manhattan lady who writes classical music.

The street people in Central Park West got a little hairy during the night ("Got a cigarette? Got a light? Spare change?"), but cops drove by frequently, and the line was self-monitored by some of the more assertive line-veterans (including an ex-Marine who dealt with line-jumpers in no uncertain terms).

At 6 a.m., "monitors" from the theater escorted the line through the park to the Delacorte, where the waiting continued. Once in the park, the line was better controlled than on Central Park West. And now the public lavatory (usable) was open and just a few steps away. (Before that, it was the bushes.) Finally, at 1 p.m., the tickets were distributed, two per person.

His lion's roar

Pacino's performance alone justifies the wait. While it's become tough to write objectively about the performance of a cultural icon, here Pacino is uncharacteristically restrained and cadenced but still unleashes his signature lion's roar at the crucial moments. "If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?" Hooyah!

Merchant of Venice has long been a hobby of mine. I've seen some 20 different productions. This one was at least adequate in every respect. Lily Rabe as Portia was the standout. The Public Theatre could have done more with the music and lighting.

But we are here for Pacino and… the play: beautiful poetry, great speeches, a subplot of the three caskets. And buckets of anti-Semitism. The threat of the moneylender Jew's knife hangs over the noble merchant Antonio (and the audience) until Shylock is brought to his knees in the trial scene of Act IV.

The only good Jew….

The original message— the only good Jew is a dead and or converted Jew— was unapologetically delivered until the mid-19th Century, when Shylock lost the red wig and bulbous nose and groundlings stopped pitching vegetables. Today, directors with any conscience must soften the anti-Semitism in order to justify presenting this lovely disaster for the Jews.

Director Daniel Sullivan achieves this feat it in a number of ways, including simply dropping some of the anti-Semitic language. Some of Jew-hating Gobbo (the fool who is often the voice of the groundlings) is cut.

That might be justified on the basis of brevity"“ but nothing justifies a scene in which Shylock is brutally baptized and then, mysteriously"“ defiantly"“ picks up his yarmulke, places it back on his head, and advances toward the Christian mob. It's a dark, powerful, challenging scene— and one that's a total invention of the director.

Dumbing down

The production dumbs down the play in several ways. Antonio's "My ventures are not in one bottom trusted," becomes "Not in one ship trusted." We can thank Daniel Sullivan for sparing us the effort"“ and the pleasure"“ of the Shakespearean synecdoche.

"Like me not for my complexion," is the first line the Prince of Morocco speaks, but when he fails the casket test, Portia's racist jest to Nerissa— "Let all of his complexion choose me thus"— is astoundingly elided. So is Portia's famously sarcastic line upon entering the courtroom: "Which is the merchant here and which is the Jew?" Don't you just love it when a director changes Shakespeare?

At Temple University two years ago, director Dan Kern actually changed the ending, dropping Gratiano's final speech. When I asked him why, he replied, "Because my ending is better." (To read my BSR review, click here.)

Sullivan does something similar, closing with Shylock's daughter Jessica sitting alone on stage in a melancholy muse. Is she regretting her betrayal of her father, stealing his wealth, joining with his enemies and giving up her religion?

Credulous critics

We can only speculate, but this we know: Sullivan's addition subverts Shakespeare's clear intention of ending the play on a happy note, with the three sets of lovers united, Antonio's ships miraculously come to port and, most important, the Jewish Question resolved. The audience is intended to leave delighted that once again, all is well with the world and the Jewish knife that thirsted for Christian blood has been blunted.

It's amazing to me how many reviewers have admired Sullivan's additions as gestures that "balance the play" and "take the sting out of the play's anti-Semitism." If that's the purpose, why not have Shylock keep his religion, keep his possessions and keep his daughter? If that's the purpose, why produce the play at all?

If you missed this run of The Merchant of Venice, you'll have another chance to catch "the dog Jew" at the Broadhurst Theatre in Manhattan from October 19 through January 19. (Not free: Tickets will run from $65 to $126.) Pacino will be back, but this time with a director who, let us hope, will spare us their improvements on the Bard.♦


For another commentary by Carol Rocamora, click here.
To read a response, click here.