Hallie Seline, Cameron Scott, Alon Nashman and Jesse Nerenberg in The Merchant of Venice | Photo by Kyle Purcell
There has been great anticipation for this production of The Merchant of Venice, coming on the heels of Canadian Stage’s presentation of Playing Shylock, which used a fictionalized local controversy and Saul Rubinek’s personal connection to the work to unpack the tension and ire the play invokes. Assembling a team of predominantly Jewish artists, Shakespeare BASH’d doesn’t dodge the uncomfortable aspects of the divisive comedy; rather, director Julia Nish-Lapidus frames the story as a distinctly Jewish reckoning with the material.
She’s bookended the play with the ensemble gathered as Jewish friends and family—at the top, they are an affectionately boisterous lot, volleying iconic lines in both appreciation and mockery, one-upping each other in a rowdy game of recitation. When Jesse Nerenberg offers up the play’s opening line—“In sooth I know not why I am so sad.”—the mood shifts suddenly. He is now Antonio. And they all know: there is painful work to be done here, spectres to confront and assimilate. And so the play begins.
There is no getting around it, the anti-Semitic language thrust at the Jewish money-lender, Shylock (Alon Nashman), raises our hackles. Though Shakespeare was writing for an Elizabethan audience with significantly less cosmopolitan attitudes than our own, he does convey the demonstrable humanity in even his most heinous villains.
One of the striking achievements of this deeply affecting production is that it honours what I believe to be the potency of the text—skewering Shylock’s cruelty yet giving it humanizing context. Nashman doesn’t offer up a likeable man, but with the proximity afforded by The Theatre Centre’s intimate Incubator space, he can talk directly to us, invite us to scrutinize Shylock’s wounded eyes and guarded, gently adamant gestures, to understand where his fierce intractability comes from.
That “pound of flesh” he so doggedly seeks through the law, his bond, vexes both us and the other characters; but it is palpably abject and anguished here, making us feel deeply conflicted by this fervent assertion of his personhood. Nish-Lapidus highlights the contempt and hostility with which the Gentile Venetians regard him. Their body language and tone are hurtful even when the words aren’t.
It’s not all grim. We get suitably caught up in the romantic entanglement of Cameron Laurie’s soft-spoken, humble Bassanio and Hallie Seline’s haughty Portia—both are endearing—and the rowdy male spectacle of the friendship between Bassanio, the obnoxiously garrulous Gratiano (Asher Rose) and the meditative and confident Antonio (Nerenberg). As Nerissa, Brittany Kay has a giddy dynamic with Seline’s Portia and I chuckled at their dismissive banter about the ridiculous suiters trying their luck with the three-chest test her father implemented to ensure the most noble mate.
The unveiled revulsion with which Portia regards the dark-skinned Prince of Morocco (how can you not swoon at Carson Somanlall’s deep and alluring voice, Portia, come on!) makes it clear it’s not his outlandish arrogance that offends her. And the shameless derision in her voice when she speaks Jessica’s name makes it clear that her compassion only extends to those she considers of her kind.
Shylock is cruel, yes, in the climactic courtroom scene where he argues for his gruesome bond and, by extension, to exact his revenge on a community that has degraded him. After years of abuse and his daughter’s recent abandonment, mercy isn’t something his dignity can afford. In slurs, the characters fixate on his Jewishness, but that is not meant to be our point of contention. As the gory mutilation of Antonio is averted by some clever legal loopholing, and the “good” Christians weaponize their victory, we clearly recognize that everyone here is kind of a shitty person.
After this tense and exhilarating courtroom scene, the romantic plot threads are all tied up in a joyous finale, but these happy antics are tainted here. Shylock’s discarded kippah, a reminder of the forced renunciation of his faith, remains on the floor throughout—a heartbreaking symbol of the emotional devastation wrought by our heroes.
Jessica (Cameron Scott)—Shylock’s rebellious, runaway daughter—was, perhaps, the only person I was fully rooting for. Her romance with Ori Black’s bouncy Lorenzo is decidedly bleak, for we can tell by her apprehensive posture that neither he nor any of his friends she’d abandoned her father for will ever truly accept her into the fold. To them, she’s still just a Jew. Scott’s crestfallen face is a heartbreaking sight and a sort of apotheosis of Nish-Lapidus’ insightful vision.
The performances by all are rich and compelling, though I’m still on the fence with Sofía Contal’s radically incongruous Launcelot Gobbo. Contal’s manic greaser bravado is, despite a single, intriguing flash of sincerity, distractingly overwrought. Gobbo is the plays’s clown, of course, so your milage on their schtick may vary.
Having also been won-over by their King Lear and The Two Noble Kinsmen, Shakespeare BASH’d has demonstrated rigorous consistency and I am here for it. Limiting the artifice of their stagings to only the essential props and showcasing diligent, detailed performances, they honour the text and always bring the feels.
The loving solidarity with which Laurie’s Bassanio grips the hand of Nerenberg’s Antonio, as Shylock brings his freshly-sharpened knife in towards his friend’s chest, is wrenching. But the coda to this production!—its quiet power completely blindsided me.
The Merchant of Venice
running February 13 to 23, 2025
The Theatre Centre, BMO Incubator (1115 Queen St. W.)
running time: 3 hours (including intermission)
Camerone Laurie and Hallie Seline in The Merchant of Venice | Photo by Kyle Purcell