In one of the most elusive spots in Thorndon, the Moorings – the historic house with its dilapidated ballroom cum performance space – The Lord Lackbeards present Othello, Shakespeare’s tragedy of jealousy, race and mental manipulation. 

One cannot step into the Moorings, with its large narrow wooden staircase, high ceilings, and peeling wallpaper, without the sense that you are stepping into another time and place. Still, I realise that I am immersed in someone’s flat (a woman reads to a young child at the kitchen table in the foyer) and reminded of the boozy-artsy themed parties I have attended here, and it’s all at once both contemporary and archaic: very Shakespearean.

Likewise, the mystery of the house seems to add to the intrigue of the play, and the Lord Lackbeards successfully employ the space in this way. Iago and Othello linger, eavesdrop, and conspire just outside the playing space in the claustrophobic stairwell. Bianca and Cassio caress and flirt in a far corner. When Iago and Roderigo rouse Brabantio in the first scene to alert him of Desdemona’s marriage to Othello, he appears suddenly in the upper gallery, and for the row of audience seated beneath the balcony, like me, we can only hear his disturbance which offers an interesting perspective as all attention is placed on the conspirators below.  

The most valuable asset to the Moorings, however, is the intimacy it affords. The Lord Lackbeards create a small thrust arrangement in the ballroom and the actor-audience relationship is absolutely electric. It’s my favourite aspect of early modern dramaturgy, and this company of actors realises its full potential. We are not at the play. We are in the play.

One such example is Act II scene 3: when Iago ensnares Cassio to drunkenness, the audience is given plastic cups and wine and invited to join in the revelry. Laughter and music follow. It’s a good time. And then we see Cassio duped and shamed. We are suddenly complicit in Iago’s crimes. It’s powerful. 

Thus the acting in this play is solid and some of the performances standout, especially David Lawrence’s towering Iago. I would go so far as to say in this production it is definitively Iago’s play. Lawrence’s performance steals the show as he manages to capture Iago’s perfect blend of cleverness, cunning, and devilish humour. Here, the sociopathic Iago is also seductively charming.

Lawrence’s tactics lure us in, including his voyeuristic phone photographing of various characters in ‘compromising’ situations.  Nuanced moments are also wrought in his performance. For instance, when he says, “I hate the Moor: / And it is thought abroad, that ‘twixt my sheets /He has done my office” it is delivered with such emotional honesty and true heart-breaking register of someone who has been betrayed that I begin to glimpse the motivation for Iago’s misogyny and hate.

Other excellent performances include Joe Dekkers-Reihana as Roderigo and Katie Boyle as Cassio. Dekkers-Reihana is spirited, humorous, and makes Roderigo a loveable, self-loving, self-serving fool. Boyle’s Cassio is terrifically portrayed. She is suave, composed, and modulates perfectly between Cassio’s passions and sense of honourable responsibility. She is also an adept fencer. And though it’s a bit close for comfort and safety, I could watch her spar all night.  

Keagan Carr Fransch’s Othello is well-spoken and self-assured. That is, until Iago chips away at her confidence. 

In general, the ensemble works well together. They have a firm grasp on Shakespeare’s language; on verse-rhythms and rhetorical flow. The director, Ania Upstill, has created a piece of clear and engaging storytelling.  

Seriously troubling what would otherwise be hyper-clarity are the gender roles, however. They are frustrating, confusing, and frankly, rife with missed opportunity. As noted above, Michael Cassio and Othello are both played by women. Cassio becomes Michelle Cassio. In her director’s note, Ania Upstill writes, “… Cassio has been promoted above him [Iago] due to affirmative action. I have chosen, however, to keep the male pronouns as they are. This is both in respect to the sense and flow of the verse, and to indicate that Cassio as a character is essentially male, thinking and living in the masculine environment of the military”.

Huh? It is unintelligible to hear “Michelle” and “he” and “him”. I can’t see how the changing of monosyllabic gender pronouns would have disrupted the verse any more than the interchange of “Michael” and “Michelle”. Respect to the text is important, but what about respect to the audience? How is Cassio female, which could have been an absolutely brilliant idea, and also “essentially male” simply because she has power and rank in the military? Can’t women “achieve highly” and be essentially female?

Then, there’s Othello who, according to the note, is “a male character who happens to be played by women [sic]”. After watching this production, I am not sure of Othello’s gender here, but in 2014 what a wasted opportunity to use your casting to provoke new readings of a play that is fraught with issues of gender dynamics. Why not either clarify the roles or embrace the ambiguity to make interesting choices rather than sweep it under the rug in the production and try to justify it in a long programme note? 

Likewise, the women in this production – Desdemona, Emilia, and Bianca – are underdeveloped. It seems as though little attention is given to their scenes and relationships. The death scene and many sections of the second half are largely anticlimactic and unmoving. This is a shame, given Emilia’s unpinning of Desdemona and ‘The Willow Song’ are two of the most beautifully haunting moments in the tragedy.

Overall, the show is very reminiscent of the Shakespeare work of the Bacchanals; no surprise given the predominance of Lawrence and the involvement of other members of that company.  Like many Bacchanals shows, the production begins with excellent live music, from a band formed by Lawrence, Boyle and Dekkers-Reihana. (Again, it might be argued, this gives us a further connection to these actors and thus their characters.) Additionally, a minimalist approach is taken design-wise, but any attempt for cohesion or emblematic qualities is largely and regretfully ignored.

While the men in the play look sharp in eclectic military-wear, which helps frame the world somewhat, the costumes of the women and other characters have little care and no function. There is a tiring-house made of a hodge-podge of curtains and sheets that appear to be on the verge of collapse. In a play abounding in symbolism (light/dark, white/black) – even the strawberry-spotted handkerchief is a microcosm for stained bedsheets – I wish some attempt had been made to give the production design unity, especially in terms of costuming. 

Despite these concerns, the production is very enjoyable for the quality of performances and the simplicity of the storytelling. I highly recommend going along to see the Lord Lackbeards’ Othello for a truly immersive and memorable experience of Shakespeare’s tragedy of the painful potential of the fragile human psyche, where I am left largely disturbed by Iago’s manipulation not only of Othello, Cassio, and Roderigo, but also of the audience.

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