In January, the NYPD reported 15 hate crimes against Jewish people—a 275% increase from the four in January 2021. Recently, police found a swastika painted on a school bus in Brooklyn, and what they described as “antisemitic graffiti” on a building in Queens. Regrettably, there could not be a better—or, rather, more appropriate—time for Theater for a New Audience’s The Merchant of Venice.
Even if you’ve seen Merchant, you’ll likely be surprised by Shakespeare’s treatment of Shylock (played by the endlessly versatile John Douglas Thompson): “The Jew” is about the nicest thing anyone calls him. Then there’s “faithless Jew,” “villain Jew,” “dog Jew,” and “currish Jew.” His servant prefers “the fiend.” And “the Devil” is a popular epithet as well. Very rarely does anyone actually call Shylock by his name. In fact, Antonio (Alfredo Narciso) can barely look him in the eye—he’s asking Shylock to lend him 3,000 ducats! (Of course, later, when he’s begging to be released from his bond—lest he be forced to pay with a pound of his flesh—Antonio resorts to “good Shylock.”) Has the text always been so hateful? Or are we now more attuned to those slurs, especially in present-day New York City?
Arin Arbus—Thompson’s director for numerous productions, including Othello and Macbeth at TFANA—has done nothing to amp up the antisemitism. She doesn’t need to; sadly, it’s all right there in the play, including the moment where Shylock is ordered to convert to Christianity—a directive that never fails to elicit gasps at any good Merchant of Venice. (And here, there are major gasps when Antonio casually swipes Shylock’s skullcap off his head and onto the ground.)
[Read David Finkle’s ★★★★☆ review here.]
What Arbus does bring to the forefront is the reasoning behind Antonio’s 3,000-ducat loan: his love—and we do mean love—for Bassanio (Sanjit De Silva), who needs the money to land a wealthy wife. “In Belmont is a lady richly left,” Bassanio says of Portia (Isabel Arraiza). And so Antonio tells Bassanio to borrow against his name, giving his blessing—plus a few intimate caresses. Later, after Bassanio has successfully wooed Portia—i.e., chosen the casket that contains her portrait, per her dead father’s request—a letter arrives detailing Antonio’s monetary misfortune, and the certain forfeit of his bond. When Bassanio reads Antonio’s emotion-filled missive—“If your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter”—Portia hops on the clue train. “O love,” she says, crestfallen, almost to herself. Then she snaps back to reality, telling her hubby-to-be to “dispatch all business and begone!” (Usually that “O love” is spoken to Bassanio empathetically.) Then, just to make it all crystal-clear, Arbus gives the men their moment just as Antonio is about to surrender a pound of flesh to Shylock. “Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death,” says Antonio. “And when the tale is told, bid her be judge/ Whether Bassanio had not once a love.” And they kiss—in full view of basically everyone in Venice including the mysterious legal scholar Balthazar, who is actually (say it with me!) Portia in a three-piece suit and goofy glasses.
Well of course they’re lovers! Why else would Antonio, as he puts it, “lend my body for his wealth”? No one would mortgage their skin for just a good friend. Not surprisingly, this Portia is not too tolerant of Bassanio’s BFF when he arrives at her house in the final scene. “Antonio, you are welcome” is usually a declaration of hospitality. Here, it’s “You. Are. Welcome”—as in, I saved your sorry Venetian behind, don’t bother to thank me, just get the heck out of here.
Arbus’ final flourish is the addition of the Kol Nidre—the opening prayer of Yom Kippur—for Shylock and his daughter, Jessica (Danaya Esperanza). As punishment, he is forced to renounce his faith; she, meanwhile, converts to Christianity to marry Lorenzo (David Lee Huynh). Yet they each ask for forgiveness. It’s a brief but beautiful epilogue, and a reminder of the power of compassion and understanding.
The Merchant of Venice opened Feb. 15, 2022, at Polonsky Shakespeare Center and runs through March 6. Tickets and information: tfana.org
