Othello

Sir Francis Bacon once wrote, “It is impossible to love, and to be wise.” Is Othello blinded by love to the point that he loses his sense of rationality? Much of Othello focuses on jealousy, love, sex, and extreme passion. Othello is dangerously in love with Desdemona. His sexual immaturity is apparent; it seems unlikely that he has loved anyone before Desdemona, and this contributes to his idealization of her. While I thought that the actors we saw in the Globe had hardly any physical attraction, the text revealed a lot about this particular issue. Desdemona disobeys her duties to her father and runs off with the black moor. She falls in love with his stories and the dangers he has passed, and he loves that she pities him. Unfortunately, Iago’s character is determined to wreak havoc in this Venetian town. Iago’s job is to play the devil, tempt Othello to fall—to sin. Eventually, doubt clouds Othello’s perception of what is and is not fact. Through a painstaking process that reveals Desdemona’s make-believe infidelity, Othello transforms into a wild green-eyed monster. He strangles Desdemona on their wedding sheets before realizing she is innocent and has never betrayed him.

Even though I had read Othello before, I still found it very difficult to watch Othello strangle Desdemona. The outcome of this tragic love story is concrete, yet I kept wishing Othello would come to his senses and realize that Desdemona never had an affair with Cassio. I wanted to see Othello forgive her, even if he believed she was guilty. I think that every person will, at one point in life, face the decision to forgive. Whether it is forgiving themselves, a friend, a spouse, or a stranger, the forgiver must realize that forgiving is a series of complicated actions—not a simple, carefree act. Forgiveness is a healthy, liberating decision involving feelings, beliefs, images, and attitudes. Mark Twain once said “forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” Violets have the remarkable chemical ionone that affects the olfactory senses, stopping any other flowery scent from being detected. Twain’s allusion to the violet is remarkably accurate—an act of forgiveness follows a person around much like the scent lingers on a crusher’s heel. While I do not recommend stomping around a bed of violets, I would have loved Othello to trudge through the forgiveness process because I think that it is an absolutely essential function of the self.

Regardless, Othello cannot forgive Desdemona. He is enraged and hot-tempered. The one token of Othello’s devotion—the handkerchief—is the center of the tragedy. We know from the text that Desdemona would kiss and talk to the handkerchief, keeping it on her at all times. Like many gifts of love, this one acted as a substitute for Othello himself. Iago, the infamous manipulator, gets a hold of the handkerchief and uses it to show Othello of Desdemona’s infidelity. When I read Othello, I thought that the handling of the handkerchief was significant. At the Globe, I did feel a sense of value was placed on the handkerchief, but not as much as I was expecting. The actor playing Othello did not react as I had anticipated. I remember Othello requesting proof time and again from Iago, but it was the handkerchief in the end that convinced him. Also, I think that the background of the handkerchief should have been more pronounced (the handkerchief used to belong to Othello’s mother). Due to the fact that the handkerchief was less of a focal point, I thought a lot of attention was put into the physical jealous rage of Othello. The actor’s eyes bulged, his voice rose, his pace increased. He transformed before our eyes into a scary monster. Othello never considers forgiveness. Instead, he lets jealousy get the better of him and, in the final scene, kills himself.

Gaslight

Most kids know of the fabled King Arthur because of the Disney movie The Sword in the Stone. At some time in a child’s life, they learn of the Knights of the Round Table and the wizard Merlin, both of which relate to King Arthur. In the medieval period, the legendary Round Table was known to have no head of the table, suggesting that there was not a real “leader” and that each knight was equal to the man sitting to his left and right. Each of the knights that sat at the Round Table of King Arthur shared a common belief system that upheld the seven knightly virtues—courage, justice, mercy, generosity, faith, nobility, and hope. Together, these seven virtues help define chivalry.

A couple of centuries after the Middle Ages, during the Victorian Era, cherished qualities were prudence, conventionalism, virtue, modesty, and respectability. There were horrible working conditions during the Victorian Era; the lower class was squeezed out by an emerging middle class. These circumstances led to a growing, palpable fear. In this age of progression, the popular theatre was melodrama. A clear cut hero represented everything that was right and was willing to sacrifice himself (or herself) for the goodness of others. The illiterate and foreign were able to comprehend these usually clear-cut dramas because they were easy to put together.

Patrick Hamilton’s Gaslight is a melodrama, whose heroine is Bella Manningham. Her husband plays psychological tricks on her and makes her doubt her sanity. She thinks that she is losing her mind, just like her mother had. In reality, Jack Manningham fools around with their maid, hides her trinkets, and estranges Bella from her family. He is a maniac thief, who is desperately searching for the rubies he tried to steal years ago. Bella is slow to catch on to what Detective Rough describes. Eventually, she trusts her intuition and begins to understand the flickering of the gaslights and the mysterious “ghost” footsteps. While trapped in her own London Doll’s House, Bella transforms into a stronger, more independent woman. I thought that she even embodied two of the aforementioned knightly virtues—courage and mercy.

When the detective showed up at her doorstep, Bella invited him in for tea and listened to his tale of the jewel thief. She followed his story and helped him discover the truth about her husband. By allowing the detective to open Jack’s desk puts herself in imminent danger. Regardless, Bella is as intrigued as the detective is. She has courage of the heart and takes on a difficult task of hushed defiance. When the detective left her for the night, she was required to stay up in her bedroom. When she receives the letter warning her of the dog’s safety, she rushes to its aid. Of course, this was a ploy of her husband’s. Later, when she has a moment alone with her recently exposed husband, she shows mercy. Bella is aware of the pain Jack’s words have caused her, so she carefully chooses her parting words. Bella, the chivalric knight that she is, exercised mercy on her husband. When he was taken away by the police, I felt a strange sense of peace and finality, rather than hostility. If I were her, I would be upset and tetchy, and I would rightly blame him. Her mercy and courage in the face of danger are very admirable traits.

To a degree, Bella also upholds her own convictions, certain in the back of her mind that the flicker in the gaslight is not a figment of her imagination. She was also convinced of her sanity—at first she would claim that she did not hide the painting, but after Jack’s constant mind games, she agreed to hiding it. She felt the same way to the missing grocer’s bill; she could not have hidden it because she remembers placing it plainly on the top of Jack’s desk. A chivalric knight has the same certainty in his (or her) convictions that Bella had. Also, chivalric knights always maintain a cheery demeanor and positive outlook. While at times Bella is stressed out, at the end of the play she returns to the windows and opens them. The open window is symbolic of good times to come. Amidst the tragedy of her finished marriage and lying, psychopath husband, she continues to live by her own chivalric code of hope and determination.

The Rose Tattoo

She was not quite what you would call refined.
She was not quite what you would call unrefined.
She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot.
-Mark Twain in Following the Equator

In Mark Twain’s Following the Equator, Twain uses his characteristic wit to explore the depths of racism and imperialism, specifically in India. To Twain, India is “the most extraordinary country that the sun visits on his round.” His non-fiction travelogue is split up into over fifty chapters, each chapter starting with a quote from “Pudd’nhead Wilson’s New Calendar.” I read Pudd’nhead Wilson a few years ago and, from what I remember, race and identity are themes in that novel as well. The main characters were switched at birth; one raised a slave, the other a member of the white community. The irony in Twain’s tale is that the fake Tom is cruel and hateful towards the real Tom, who is consistently respectful of his master. Pudd’nhead’s character is an unsuccessful lawyer and the epigraphs of each chapter are also from his calendar of droll sayings. One particular epigraph, which is also in Following the Equator, harks back to Tennessee Williams’ The Rose Tattoo: “Don’t part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist but you have ceased to live.”

Serafina, widow of Rosario Delle Rose, worships her deceased husband. She grabs on to the memory of Rosario and finds it hard to live without making every moment somehow related to him. She is middle-aged and has a teenage daughter, who she refuses to let go of as well. Her daughter, Rosa, has a free spirit—she falls head over heels in love with a sailor and defies her mother, who is incapable of understanding the American way. Serafina’s character wallows in grief after her husband’s death. With the entrance of Alvaro Mangiacavello, however, she transforms into a beautiful, sexy, flirt. She is an exotic character, whose Sicilian roots are more apparent than her Louisianan. The women of her town are not her friends; they ostracize her and gossip about her late husband’s infidelity. When Serafina hears proof of her husband’s affair with the floozy Estelle Hohengarten, she finally parts with the “illusion” she has of him. For as it turns out, she has been disillusioned by her own love and belief in her husband—the smoldering Italian with a rose tattoo.

I saw the above painting hanging in a majestic stairway inside the Louvre. Tucked away in a corner, Etudes d'un perroquet ara ararauna, by Flemish still-life painter Pieter Boel, seemed out of place. I had my eyes peeled for a painting that would remind me of The Rose Tattoo, but nothing really caught my eye, until I spotted this. The unbefitting placement reminds me of Serafina in her Louisiana town. In spirit, Serafina is still in Sicily, happily married. In reality, Serafina is unlike the southern belles she makes dresses for. She is glamorously out of place. As an immigrant, she has culture and principles and a devotion to Mary, Mother of God. The three full blue and gold macaws in Boel’s painting remind me of the three outsiders: Serafina, Rosa, and Alvaro. They face an incomplete parrot, who in my mind symbolizes the presence of Rosario. While Boel most likely was sketching the same bird in three different positions, I like thinking of the four characters interacting together. Each is out of place in their world—not refined, and not unrefined—unique and majestic, each a part of the other; three Italians whose present collides with the past spirit of Rosario.

Angels in America

The climactic struggle between Prior and the Angel is not the only clash within Tony Kushner’s two-part play, Angels in America. Two conflicting schemes, one of order and one of entropy, develop throughout this “gay fantasia.” It was hard to appreciate the complexities of the play after only reading the first part, Millennium Approaches. After watching the entire play, however, I found myself surprised at some of the scenic designer and director’s decisions. All of the set and props, lighting, costumes, and sound contribute to the seamless transitions, the notion of mystic realism, and the fight for order amidst the natural tendency for chaos.

With all of the different locations—including Salt Lake City, New York, Antarctica—it is necessary for the transitions to flow smoothly scene to scene, from one setting to the next. The actors in the first part of the play would incorporate the set changes into their entrances and exits. For instance, when Joe exited the stage after being in Roy Cohn’s office, he moodily dragged the chair along with him, indicating the hindering presence of his wife on his career path. The changing environment is easily marked by the different prop usages. For instance, when the Antarctica backdrop switches to become the wagon covering in the Mormon center, and later the beach, the audience is pulled from location to location, without the use of detailed sets. Much of the play relies upon imagination, specifically Harper’s pill-induced fantasy land, so it is fitting that Kushner and the set designer use multi-purpose props. The lighting was also effective in establishing the different settings in the play. The striking lime green lampshade is in multiple scenes, as well as the lighting from behind the giant black backdrop. To ease through scenes, the lighting would highlight different on-stage actions, casting others in shadow. Finally, the main characters rarely changed their outfits. I think that this was an effective decision because it allowed for the fast scene changes that kept the seven-hour play endurable. A little bit of a change would have been nice, but I am glad that they chose to maintain the emblematic production style, rather than one of complete scenic reality.

Angels in America is an example of mystic realism, a style which is characterized by realistic language and characters in combination with both a linear and disjoint narrative. The elements of mystical realism in Angels in America are emphasized by three design elements—setting, costumes, and sound. The bizarre expeditions to places like Antarctica are preceded by normal settings, like an office building or an apartment. The simple sets and props of the everyday settings are mirrored by the minimal sets and props of the extraordinary. As is the case with Harper, she can be sitting by her lamp one moment, and the next carrying a Christmas tree she shopped down with her teeth in the middle of Antarctica! We not only witness this event, but we accompany her. The second element of mystic realism is normal events matched with epic figures and larger-than-life themes. One way this is highlighted is through the costuming of the Angel. She wore something that reminded me of the Matrix. That outfit is a polar opposite of Prior’s hospital gown. When you look at the two actors side by side, the contrast between reality and mystic reality is apparent. The third element of mystic realism involves the music. Much of the sound the audience hears is from Harper’s tape player. The familiar pop tunes that echo out of her stereo are so real, and yet so part of the past—the 80s—that they seem distant and peculiar. Not only that, but the sounds are familiar, everyday noises, which help balance out the themes of AIDS, homosexuality, and addiction.

Entropy is a measure of disorder that exists within a system. Assuming that Angels in America is a system unto itself, it is easy to see how in Millennium Approaches, the order is maintained by constant set cleanup. However, in Perestroika, the clutter is never tidied up on stage. The actors would leave behind papers and groceries and props and all sorts of junk. In the end, the stage was a pigsty! It is easy to want things, at the end, to be in order—to be clean. The floor though, is as dirty as the angels at the end of the play! The angels’ costumes, the mess of props, and the overlapping sets all challenge the audience to accept the fact that life is not organized and perfect. We cannot expect to live our lives free of the impacts of disease, homelessness, and fear. Even each audience member is connected; we have come from different backgrounds to share this same seven hour experience. We, in essence, are as connected as Prior, Louis, Harper, and Joe are.