"Othello". University College Dining Hall

The current production of Othello by the Royal Shakespeare Company is stolidly professional but has at its core a total and utter lack of interest in the play - and that sentiment bleeds through to the audience.

This production, in the magnificent, medieval Dining Hall of University College, is the diametric opposite: it effervesces with enthusiasm, love, fascination for and original thoughts about the play, while being honestly and charmingly ‘anti-professional’.

Anti-professional how? you may ask. Well, on the night I was there, half-way through the show they actually managed to lose the handkerchief - yes, the prop on which the entire plot turns. Characters were desperately producing rings and napkins to stand in for it. And here’s the thing: it didn't matter one jot. This wasn’t supposed to be as slick as a scene-change in the Olivier Theatre. It was a company of creative, cooperative, mutually supportive students exploring a dramatic masterpiece, and their passion was irresistible. I’d swap their simple lost handkerchief for the RSC’s impeccably researched piece of brocade any day.*

In fact, come to think of it, I have more on the handkerchief. The very first thing that happens in this production is a beautiful, silent, danced dumb-show in which we witness Othello give Desdemona the handkerchief for the first time. I’ve never seen that idea done before, yet it seems so natural, and it imbues what usually seems to be a slightly contrived device with its own significant history: just one example of the gently humane perception that director Cici Zhang has brought to the play.

Zhang’s approach to Othello’s ethnicity is also powerfully illuminating. As well as being black, she has made him the only male performer in the entire production. And in Fitzroy Pablo Wickham she has found an Othello whose masculinity stands in sharp contrast to the rest of the cast. He is ‘othered’ by both his gender and his race. And his lone, testosterone-heavy presence on the stage, like a caged but balletic lion, gives him an aura of danger.

Laid out as a traverse stage, with a simple line of tables down the middle, the action here feels almost like a tightrope, as characters dance tangoes on the tabletops, perilously close to the edge. They feel permanently on the verge of calamity, which of course they are. Again, it’s a simple idea, but pays dividends in ramming home the atmosphere of this most domestic and avoidable of tragedies.

Which brings us to Iago.

Leah Selimic brings a completely original and convincing approach to this (traditionally) most evil of all Shakespeare’s villains. She is no conniving schemer but more like a lost soul consumed by a hatred she cannot resist. During her soliloquies, the other characters literally shove her around like a ball in a pinball machine, or even act as puppet masters, guiding her every movement. This Iago’s hatred is evidence not of an evil character but of a mental illness. And when she screams, at the top of her lungs, ‘I hate the Moor!’ it’s a moment of supreme suffering.

And while talking of great performances, how can I not mention Lilly Law, as Desdemona’s mother Brabantia? When Lara Machado (as Cassio) had to leave unexpectedly, Law stepped into the role at two minutes’ notice, with no understudy preparation of any kind. She was perfect. Hardly even glancing at the script she held, she made Cassio a charismatic, animated individual. You could actually see why Othello would believe Desdemona could fall for him. Heroic.

For the most part this production is impressively faithful to the script. But it makes two outrageously bold changes: firstly, Zhang has cut the climactic scene in which Iago reduces Othello to a collapsed, quivering heap of incoherent words on the floor, and secondly, she has jettisoned Desdemona’s famous Willow song in favour of, if you can believe this, Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven. Incredibly, both choices make sense and add to the magic of this show. Removing Othello’s breakdown preserves his agency and intensifies Desdemona’s (and in this case Iago’s) innocence, and the words of Stairway are remarkably appropriate – and even include a semi-quotation from Shakespeare: There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold.

One stumbling block is the lighting, which is just insufficient for the space. The primary task of a light is to illuminate, and on this occasion too many faces were lost in darkness. It might have been better to stick with the dining hall’s normal lights (which is what they do with the Jesus College Shakespeare Project). A technical limitation, but frustrating.

Zhang’s interpretation is neither revolutionary nor spectacular. It’s individual, heartfelt, and fits snugly around the play like a Venetian cloak in autumn. Her programme, unusually, includes a dedication: This show is dedicated to the one who broke my heart. Passion and sincerity win over professionalism every time. 

* It later transpired that the actor playing Cassio, who sadly left after the first 20 minutes, not to return, accidentally took the handkerchief with them – which is basically the plot of Othello. Oh the irony.