Perspectives on Shakespeare's tragedy have changed over the decades. As Nonso Anozie said when playing the title role for Cheek by Jowl in 2004, white actors once "concentrated on their perception of what a black man is". Laurence Olivier, whose 1964 performance in polished ebony make-up was once the gold standard for the part, famously observed black dock workers to learn their gait and mannerisms.
Since the 1980s, as numerous actors of colour have tackled the role, the importance of Othello's race has shifted further from the centre of productions. At the National Theatre in 2013, Adrian Lester's Othello was not the only black soldier in the Venetian army. In 2016, Lucian Msamati played Iago to Hugh Quarshie's general, with Ayesha Dharkar as Emilia, Iago's wife. Vinette Robinson in this production is the latest in a line of other non-white Emilias: Jaye Griffiths opposite Anozie, for example, and Sheila Atim at the Globe in 2018.
Racial tension is still present, of course, but it is only one driver of the plot. The theme of jealousy, at least as much in Iago as Othello, is still there too. But the aspect of the text which has come most to the fore recently is its misogyny. In Clint Dyer's 2022 National Theatre production Tanya Franks's Emilia was visibly bruised, a victim of domestic abuse. Here director Tom Morris, Caitlin FitzGerald as Desdemona and Vinette Robinson have chosen, more positively, to give the lead women more agency rather than the minimum required by the text.
But this is Iago's play - even Olivier said as much. He has far more lines than Othello and controls much of the action. David Harewood, playing the title role for the third time (including being the first black actor to do so on the National Theatre stage in 1997), is stately, proud and authoritative at the beginning of the action, but Iago has already made his presence felt, spying through binoculars at Othello's secret wedding to Desdemona. In Toby Jones (pictured above right) he is a malevolent imp in comparison to his imposing master, improvising, taking every opportunity to manipulate his victims, whether the dolt Roderigo (Tom Byrne), the easily-led Cassio (Luke Treadaway) or a trusting Othello. Without playing for laughs - he is quite clearly full of hate - he often draws giggles from the audience with his mischievous plotting and enjoyment of the inaccurate term "honest" as it is frequently applied to him. The audience, so entertained, seems complicit in his schemes. Jones must surely be on someone's list as a potential Richard III.
Harewood is a controlled - perhaps too controlled, even under-powered - figure until he is comprehensively reeled in by Iago and anger and then self-hate take over. The final scene does not disappoint, thanks in no small part to Vinette Robinson's emotionally committed Emilia (pictured left). Hers has been a pragmatic marriage in which she believed in her husband and tried to please him - hence the business with the strawberry handkerchief - but she is not afraid to die in the cause of revealing the truth. Desdemona is denied her - admittedly hard to take - last line, claiming responsibility for her own death. In Caitlin FitzGerald's interpretation she is not a girlish bride, but capable of looking Othello in the eye as his equal, even after he has slapped her in public. Before this, the romance of their relationship is underlined by projections of close-ups of their faces and underscored by often gentle music composed by P J Harvey and Jon Nicholls.
Time and place are indeterminate in Ti Green's design. Venice is opulent, gilded with a medieval flavour, where the Duke sports a Doge's cap, although soldiers wear khaki. Here Othello and Desdemona stand out from the crowd in their gorgeous silks - sky blue for him, chartreuse and amber for her. Cyprus is plainer with geometric screens and more practical costumes. A spectacular storm, with lashing rain, separates the two locations.
The narrative is clear under Tom Morris's direction, although there are a few odd choices. Why is Lodovico, a gentleman fancied by Venetian ladies, a priest? And why does Othello suddenly produce a gun in the final scene when only small blades have featured until then?
Shakespeare, as ever, seems to be speaking to our time. The nature of truth is as slippery now as in this tragedy of love and lies.
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