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.