The Merchant of Venice at the National Theatre

by Stephen McCabe

On the evening of Friday, March 29, your humble UW Oshkosh representatives were made to sit through yet another brilliant piece of theatre written by a little‑known playwright from the late 16th century.  Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, as interpreted by the National Theatre is a gripping, passionate, humorous, tragic tale of love, society, and identity.  At the play's center is Shylock, a Jew of Venice, who suffers as a target of anti‑Semitism.  Henry Goodman's portrayal of Shylock garnered this year's Best Actor award in Britain's version of the Tony Awards, and had we been allowed to vote we Oshkoshers would have supported the award.

The play concerns itself with Antonio (a merchant of Venice, as identified in the playbill), who introduces himself as a "sad" member of society; however, he does not identify the source of his sadness.  He might be thinking of the precarious situation of his ships at sea and the heavy investment of money in them, but it should be noted that "sadness" was a code word for homosexuality in Shakespeare's time, and the National Theatre production brought out that meaning.  Antonio's longtime friend Bassanio is convinced of his potential for winning the hand of a rich heiress, Portia, and needs money to finance his trip and the social posturing he intends to do in Belmont where she lives.  He tells Antonio to think of it as an investment, and suggests that his marrying Portia is analogous to Jason's acquisition of the Golden Fleece: not a very enlightened comparison!  As I mentioned, Antonio has invested all of his money in his ships, and has to borrow money (using a pound of flesh as collateral) from Shylock, whom Antonio dislikes because he is a Jew.

 Running parallel to this story line is the subplot involving Jessica, Shylock's daughter; she is planning to leave her father's home and marry Lorenzo, becoming a Christian in the process.  During the second act of this production, Shylock actually strikes Jessica.  The domestic abuse dimension is an anomaly in Merchant of Venice interpretations, but brings some newfound validation to the character of Jessica.  Where Jessica might previously be thought a weak character making a mistake running away with Lorenzo, she is now an empowered woman escaping an abusive home life. 

When Bassanio goes to Belmont, he is successful in winning the hand of Portia.  At the precise moment that he "wins" this "Golden Fleece," he receives a letter notifying him that Shylock has decided to collect his pound of flesh from Antonio, who is unable to meet the demands of the loan.  Bassanio rushes back to Venice with money from Portia to purchase the bond from Shylock and save Antonio's life.  The Fleece (Portia) knows that Bassanio could use the aid of her learning and intelligence, so she and her lady‑in‑waiting (Nerissa) disguise themselves as men and go off to save the day.

At court, Antonio's situation looks grim.  The king has invited a learned judge to preside over the trial.  But, unfortunately, the learned judge was ill and sends another judge in his place who turns out to be Portia in disguise.  Portia performs some mental acrobatics and turns the wording of the bond around on Shylock, essentially putting him on trial.  The source of Shylock's anger seems clearly to come from a lifetime of coping with anti‑Semitic hatred in combination with the stress of losing his daughter to a Christian.  So the law of the land beats him down even further; he is eventually forced to convert to Christianity, destroying his identity and heritage.

The final scene is a poignant one, showing Portia and Bassanio reunited, and Jessica and Lorenzo in a bit of difficulty.  Jessica seems finally to understand the way in which her identity is being destroyed by the dominant Christian social structure of the day.  The National Theatre's production ends with Jessica beautifully and hauntingly singing a traditional Jewish song which she and her father had previously sung together.  It is a lament of all she has lost and of the impossibility of a free expression of who she truly is, both as a woman and as a Jew.

WARNING: This synopsis/review is not to be used in lieu of reading the text or attending a live production.