Shakespeare & Complicit Cruelty
"They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full they belch us."
“They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full they belch us.” — Othello, Act III, Scene 4, Lines 120-124.
Shakespeare’s plays have been in near constant performance for over four hundred years. The words have not changed (although the way the plays are cut obviously affects meaning), but the audiences have. The modern world view of the international internet age is vastly different from the Elizabethan world view that birthed the plays. Which has recently brought me to a question: In staging Shakespeare’s plays, do we strive to give modern audiences the reaction an Elizabethan audience would have had, or do we stage the plays so that audiences have modern reactions to old plots?
This question first came up for me in a discussion with a director who staged King John with one of the battles being a food fight in an effort to give modern audiences an emotional reaction closer to what an Elizabethan audience would have had in watching the battle scene. There is also the infamous staging of Julius Caesar in 2016 where Julius Caesar was made to look like the presidential candidates on alternating nights to raise the emotional stakes for the audience (It arguably worked too well).
Now, an audience is not a monolith. It’s made up of people of all walks of life and backgrounds, but there are ways of coding character or setting to create an emotional reaction in a segment of society. For instance, if I were to stage a production of Macbeth in Houston, Texas where the titular character was the CEO of an energy company amidst a natural disaster, people would come in primed with certain feelings I could encourage them to interrogate.
Which brings me to Othello. The audience is indispensable in this play, because the villain uses them as his tool. The audience knows more than the titular character but withholds that information, isolating him further. In many ways, the audience is complicit in this tragedy.
I’ve seen two adaptations of Othello this year. The first was the production at Shakespeare’s Globe in London, England in April, and the second was Othello the Remix at Stages in Houston, Texas. The former was largely faithful to the text, setting it instead as a battle against cartels in what seemed like Northern Ireland (but I could be wrong). They changed a few words here and there, externalized Othello’s consciousness in a movement performer, and changed the ending. The latter was a joyful musical adapting the vibes and characters of the play in a way to give a modern audience a less traumatic emotional experience. In that production, Othello was an up and coming recording artist surrounded by a crew of musicians and a music producer. There was singing and dancing and cross-dressing and fun, right up until the moment the disembodied Desdemona died.
I’ll discuss pieces of both productions as we dive into a discussion of the play below (and try to add some humor), but I raise these two versions of Othello to remind us all that Othello is a character. An individual. He does not represent all people of a certain race or background, and in staging the plays, directors make choices about who he is as a person that can reinforce a generalized caricature based on racist assumptions, or can build a nuanced individual within a specific culture that meets a tragic end.
So let’s talk Othello.
The Shake-Scene
Othello should have been a comedy. Two young lovers (Othello and Desdemona) meet and fall in love. But their love is forbidden by Desdemona’s father (the typical romantic ‘blocking figure’), so they run away in the night and elope. If a helpful friar or fairy had shown up, all might have ended well. But, alas, this isn’t their story. It’s Iago’s.
The play opens with Iago storming through the streets of Venice with the useful idiot Rodrigo. Rodrigo is in love with Desdemona and has funded Iago’s every whim in hopes that Iago would convince Desdemona to marry Rodrigo. But Desdemona is not wooed by the idiot. She has chosen to marry the decorated general Othello. Iago assures Rodrigo that he hates Othello and follows him only to destroy him. We get the first of many justifications for Iago’s hate (that he was passed up for promotion when Othello chose an unseasoned officer as his second), but Iago is not a reliable narrator of his own motivations.1
They arrive at the house of Desdemona’s father Brabantio, awake him, and tell him that Desdemona has eloped with Othello. Their language and the imagery is cruel and racist, likening Othello to a thief and an animal, intent on stoking his rage against Othello. Iago does so from the shadows, hiding behind Rodrigo so that his disloyalty to his friend and employer will not be known. And the ruse works. Brabantio is enraged.
Iago, feigning friendship, tells Othello of Brabantio’s anger, and suggests that Iago wants to kill Rodrigo. But Othello isn’t worried. He trusts that his military service will save him. And in that moment, his second Cassio comes to say that the Duke and Senators have summoned him to discuss a matter of war, even as Brabantio comes and seeks to haul him in front of those self-same figures over the matter of Desdemona. In the Globe’s production, a swat team descended and Othello was made to lay face down on the ground while surrounded by heavily armed figures in full body armor, which evoked a very specific image.
Everyone appears before the Duke and Senate. Brabantio accuses Othello of wooing his daughter through witchcraft, but the Duke is more concerned about the Turkish attack of the Venetian territory on Cypress. Othello passionately recounts his wooing of Desdemona. He told her the story of his life and won her heart. It is decided to call for her and hear her side (novel, I know).
Desdemona enters, and like all great Shakespearean comedic heroines, she is bold and well-spoken. She loves Othello and her loyalty now lies with her husband. Brabantio gives up, and it is decided that Othello will go to Cyprus to fight the Turkish army. And Desdemona, our bold heroine, insists on going with him. And here is where I lay blame for this tragedy. Not with Iago’s cleverness or Othello’s trusting nature, but with their isolation. Neither Othello nor Desdemona have a trustworthy confidante. They are sent away from their community. And, as a parting shot, Brabantio (not Iago) lays the seeds for his daughter’s death — “Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see./
She has deceived her father, and may thee.”
Othello, Desdemona, Iago, Iago’s wife Emilia, Cassio, and Rodrigo all arrive in Cyprus to learn that the Turkish fleet was destroyed in a storm. The war is over and Othello is now governor of the land. But a new war is brewing, a psychological one.
Iago convinces Rodrigo that Desdemona has fallen in love with Cassio. And then, alone in stage, Iago addresses the audience again. Notably, Iago has many soliloquies while Othello has none. Iago makes us complicit in his deeds and all we can do is watch Othello’s undoing. It increases our awareness of Othello’s isolation but also makes the role a more isolating one with Iago able to win over the audience, and Othello never fully feeling seen. Personally, when watching the Globe production, I felt grateful for the Othello’s externalized consciousness if only to give the actor playing Othello an on-stage ally in this toxic play.
As the town celebrates Othello’s nuptials, Iago’s plan is unleashed. Iago, knowing of Cassio’s drinking problem, pressures him to drink. He then gets Rodrigo to provoke him to fight, and suggests another soldier save Rodrigo. Cassio injures the other soldier close to death as Rodrigo sounds alarm and Othello is rouses from his “marriage bed” (wink) to break up the fight. Iago, hiding his part in the matter, tells Othello what occurred, and Cassio is stripped of his rank as Othello’s second in command.
Cassio, distraught at having lost his reputation, makes the idiotic decision to trust Iago. (Note: many people see Othello’s trust of Iago as a character flaw, but everyone in this play trusts that little snake. Let’s not victim blame Othello for being one of many). Iago convinces Cassio to ask help from Desdemona, and once again alone with the audience, tells us of his intent to convince Othello that Desdemona’s advocacy is due to her love for Cassio. Iago is then confronted by a disillusioned Rodrigo who is nearly out of money and has been soundly beaten by Cassio. Rodrigo is the clown character in this play (there always needs to be one), but his connection with Iago (rather than our lovers) only adds to the isolation. Not only does Iago bring his audience in to his plots, the only laughs we are provided are by the clown in his presence. Imagine being the actor playing Othello and hearing as the audience eats from Iago’s hand, laughs at his jokes, and then coldly judges you as you commit an unspeakable act — doing nothing to stop you.
Cassio follows Iago’s advice in asking Desdemona’s help. It goes *badly.* Desdemona agrees to help, but when Othello arrives, Cassio slinks away because he cannot bear to face him. Unsurprisingly, Iago uses to this make Othello jealous. Desdemona’s ardent advocacy for Cassio only makes it worse. And Iago is convincing. He makes Othello beg him to say what he believes, fights so hard against the suspicion he seeks to plant that it’s no wonder Othello is convinced. Iago even brings back Brabantio’s warning — she fooled her father, why not you?
And then Desdemona drops her handkerchief. The handkerchief given to her by Othello that means the world to him. And Desdemona’s gentlewoman Emilia is so desperate for her husband’s love, that when she finds it, she gives it to Iago instead of returning it. There are a myriad of ways of playing Emilia. Some suggest she was unfaithful to Iago and that’s why she’s so desperate to win his favor, while the Globe played the relationship as physically abusive (a subtext not buried particularly deep). Either way, Emilia’s choice to give over that handkerchief, to trust Iago, derails any hope of comedic ending.
Iago ups his ante. With Desdemona’s handkerchief in his pocket, he tells Othello he heard Cassio mumbling in his sleep about keeping his love with Desdemona secret. And then, he drops the bombshell. Iago says he saw Cassio with Desdemona’s handkerchief.
There is then an interlude with Desdemona and a clown, as Desdemona attempts to find Cassio’s living quarters. And once again we may be tricked into believing this a comedy. The well-spoken and determined female lead banters with the clown as in all the comedies, but when the clown leaves, our hope of comedy is removed. Desdemona asks Emilia where the handkerchief could be, and Emilia says she does not know. But of course she does know. She gave it to Iago. And we, the audience, complicit in Iago’s evils, know as well.
Othello arrives to test Desdemona, attempting to get her to show him the handkerchief. She cannot. These noble young-lovers who fought so hard for their love are being undone before us. Othello tells her that his mother bewitched the handkerchief so that if it is lost, his love will be lost also (yes, there are racist stereotypes and assumptions in this play; it was written in 1603). Othello accuses her of losing it and is enraged. But Desdemona stands toe-to-toe with him, and he leaves. Emilia watches on, knowing and silent. Iago then brings Cassio, again urging Cassio to urge Desdemona to urge Othello to return him to his position. The heroine is tied to the tracks, the train barreling onward, but we can only watch.
Cassio is then accosted by a woman he actually is wooing, Bianca. He gives her Desdemona’s handkerchief and she accuses him of cheating. But he knows not how else he could’ve come across a woman’s handkerchief. Cassio, the absolute himbo, found it in his chamber and thought nothing else of it. But he likes the stitching, so he has Bianca go have a second one made. Is Shakespeare lazy or is Cassio a dolt? You can be the judge. Either way, face-palm emoji.
And in Act IV, things get dark. Iago continues to lie and twist Othello’s mind, gaslighting him by suggesting images of Desdemona and Cassio making “the beast with two backs” (yes, that is a Shakespeare-ism). The trickery works so well that Othello ‘falls into a trance’, sometimes portrayed as a seizure. Cassio arrives and says that it’s an epileptic seizure, his second (although we the audience only see one; and to trust Iago is to be destroyed). Once recovered, Iago stows Othello in a dark corner and baits Cassio into talking about Bianca (his side-piece) in a way to suggest to Othello he’s talking about Desdemona. And, as fate would have it, Bianca chooses that moment to enter with Desdemona’s handkerchief. Honestly, the way fate bends to his machinations, Iago might be the devil. IDK.
Cassio runs out after Bianca — lovers’ spat and whatnot — and Othello enters murderous, convinced that Desdemona has been unfaithful. Othello asks Iago to get him poison, but Iago cannot so dirty his hands. Instead, he convinces Othello to strangle her in their marriage bed as a just desserts for contaminating that bed with her unfaithfulness (barf).
But even as it seems our tragedy is certain, hope arrives! An emissary from Venice comes to appoint Cassio as Governor and send Othello and Desdemona home. But as Desdemona advocates for Cassio, Othello’s rage grows and he strikes her. She runs off upset. He also storms off. And though the red flag is raised, no one marks it. The emissary is concerned, and, as to be expected… trusts Iago’s explanation of events.
Othello questions Emilia about what she’s seen, and Emilia (though silent on the handkerchief) says Desdemona is faithful. Desdemona enters and begs Othello to tell her why he’s being so cold and harsh. Othello calls her false and she protests, but Iago’s lies are too strong now. How do you rebut suspicion and inuendo? He storms out. Desdemona, heartbroken, asks Emilia to put her wedding sheets on the bed that night.
Iago arrives and offers comfort to Desdemona (he really is the worst). Emilia suggests someone must have come up with the lie, and Iago says there is no such man. Desdemona gets on her knees and begs for Iago’s help. Desdemona who stood in front of the Senate and argued for her love, demanded the right to follow him to Cypress, kneels. And Iago brushes her concerns off as if they were nothing. Desdemona and Emilia exit, and Rodrigo (remember him?) arrives.
Rodrigo is incensed that Iago has still not helped him win Desdemona’s love. Rodrigo is going to go to Desdemona and demand all of his jewels and gifts back— jewels and gifts never delivered by Iago. But Iago, feigning support for this poor dolt, suggests the way to keep Desdemona from leaving Cypress, is to kill Cassio.
Othello and Desdemona dine with the emissary, and then Othello orders her to go to bed and dismiss Emilia for the evening. Once the women are alone, Emilia says she wishes Desdemona had never seen Othello, but Desdemona still loves him. She asks Emilia if women could really be false to their husbands, saying ‘no, by this heavenly light.’ Emilia responds ‘Nor I neither, by this heavenly light./ I might do ’t as well i’ th’ dark.’ Cheeky yes, but does it belie that Emilia has been unfaithful as Iago suggests? And, given Iago’s cruelty, could he ever truly be justified?
Emilia is as complicated as her husband, but she also gives a wonderful feminist speech (even as she betrays her friend and arguably her gender by not telling Desdemona about the handkerchief) — “Let husbands know their wives have sense like them.” Again, perhaps we can only let female villains speak such truths, but it’s a speech worth reading.
And as Desdemona unknowingly awaits her death, Iago plots the demise of others. He sets Rodrigo in position to kill Cassio, but Rodrigo, as always, is inept. In the Globe production, he was difficult to take seriously dressed up as an UberEats delivery guy or other similar absurd costume. Yet we cannot forget, fool or not, Iago has made him his purse, and he, like us the audience, is complicit in this tragedy. Cassio stabs Rodrigo (who, like Han, stabbed first), but Iago wounds Cassio. Othello hears Cassio cry “Murder, murder” and believes Iago has killed Cassio. Othello exits, pledging to kill Desdemona.
Iago enters, feigning help for Cassio. Cassio did not see that it was Iago who stabbed him, and as others help Cassio, Rodrigo cries out for help and Iago deals a fatal blow. Bianca, who is in love with Cassio, comes to see him. And Iago continues to weave his web, suggesting she is to blame for the fight between Cassio and Rodrigo. They walk off, Iago warning us all “This is the night/ that either makes me or fordoes me quite.”
And with that, we return to our societally-damned lovers. Othello enters, determined to kill Desdemona for her unfaithfulness lest she “betray more men.” His reasoning leaves something to be desired, but I think we can lay that at Iago’s feet, not Othello’s. She wakes and he makes sure she’s prayed, so that she can go to heaven. Othello again accuses her of unfaithfulness and again she denies it. She begs him to wait, but he will not. He smothers her.
In the Globe production, Othello strangles the movement performer who has come to represent his emotions (and potentially his sense of self), leaving him completely alone. What must that feel like for the performer? To face a terrible deed completely alone in a room full of people who know Desdemona is innocent?
Emilia arrives, wanting to enter. She tells Othello that Cassio lives and Rodrigo is dead. Othello is confused. And then, Desdemona stirs. Emilia hears but it is too late. Desdemona dies. And with her, all hope. But even with her dying breath, she lies, and says it was not Othello who killed her.
But Othello, ever honorable (potentially to a fault), confesses. He explains that Desdemona slept with Cassio, that Iago confirmed it, that Cassio had the handkerchief… Emilia, struggling to come to terms with her complicity in the murder, says some racist stuff to Othello. She cries for help, and everyone arrives. Emilia confronts Iago, telling him to prove Othello was lying. But, for once, Iago is honest. He admits he told Othello that Desdemona was false. But Othello continues to justify his act, there was a handkerchief after all.
Emilia, realizing what she has done, demands to speak. Iago draws his sword on her, but she will not be silenced. She tells Othello that she found the handkerchief and gave it to Iago. Othello runs at Iago to kill him, but is stopped. Iago kills Emilia and runs away. Othello finds another sword, devastated. Iago is brought back and Othello stabs him, but he will not die. Othello demands to know why Iago has done this terrible villainy, and Iago refuses to explain.
The rest of the plot is uncovered, and the men of the town mean to lead Othello away. He stops them for a moment. He asks them to remember him as he is, his good deeds and bad. And then he slays himself, kissing Desdemona as he dies.
And Iago lives. He’s led away to be punished or tortured sure, but he lives. And we the audience, complicit in his deeds, live as well…
Speak the Speech, I Pray You
Bring Shakespeare’s words into your own life by:
Lamenting being ghosted by another finance bro (too real?);
Coming to terms with the nature of cat-mothering; or
Envisioning how the many books in your TBR feel as you buy another:
Additional Resources
Find a copy of the entire play here.
Learn more about how our understanding of race has evolved over time with the book The Great White Bard.
Read more about the Globe Theatre’s Othello here.
Learn more about Othello: The Remix here.
He also suggests that he hates Othello because of rumors Othello slept with Iago’s wife. Iago is also obsessed with using Rodrigo as “his purse” and could be tormenting Othello and Desdemona to keep Rodrigo on the hook.