Getting back to film reviews, here's another extended version of an earlier
quick review:
The Merchant of Venice
Al Pacino may have top billing, but the real star of this film is director Michael Radford. Not only does Radford reinvent the play as a cinematic event, but he also rediscovers much of the resonance that the play must have had for Shakespeare's audience. Contemporary stage productions typically try to "humanize" Shylock. You can always tell when they get to the "If you prick us, do we not bleed?" speech, which modern actors can't resist turning into a plea for tolerance. (I saw Dustin Hoffman play the role on Broadway 15 years ago, and I can still remember his rendition.)
Not in Radford's version. When Pacino delivers the speech, the emphasis is on the word that stands out in the last line: revenge. Pacino and Radford restore Shylock to what Shakespeare's audience instinctively understood him to be: the villain. Yes, he has wonderful speeches explaining why his actions are justified -- but so do most of Shakespeare's villains. That's why actors love the parts.
Having made
Il Postino, Radford knows something about filming in Italy, and he puts his cast in richly detailed period dress and sets them in locations that take you to another place and time. An opening screen crawl provides a concise description of the position of Jews in 16th century Venice (something that Shakespeare's audience wouldn't have needed explained to them), and Radford moves immediately to the bustling streets where Shylock and Antonio (Jeremy Irons) play out a scene that the play only references indirectly -- Antonio passing Shylock in the street and spitting on him. The scene defines their relationship for the rest of the drama, and by showing it on screen, Radford sets up the rest of the action more effectively than any other version I've seen.
For all the attempts by modern productions to redeem it,
Merchant is a deeply racist play, and Radford and his cast make no attempt to hide it. Pacino plays Shylock without any attempt to win the audience's sympathy; his Shylock is an embittered, angry man, and you can see how he could become so obsessed with revenge on Antonio that he pursues his "bond" without thought for the consequences. (BTW, I've always found it to be a mark of great acting when someone can perform a major Shakespearean role without putting obvious quotation marks around the famous speeches. Pacino manages this admirably.)
With the dark and ugly core of the play on full display, the fairy tale romantic subplot involving Bassanio (Joseph Fiennes) and Portia seems even more trivial and ridiculous, and I suspect that's a modern reaction that no production can overcome. I've always found the "trial of the three boxes" to be one of Shakespeare's most mechanical and unconvincing plot devices. It isn't any better here, but at least the actors are entertaining to watch. The same is true for the "rings" gimmick that leads to the conclusion of the romance subplot.
Casting Jeremy Irons as Antonio was a masterstroke, because Antonio -- the "merchant" of the title -- is one of the most unmemorable leading men in Shakespeare. He doesn't even have that many lines. Irons brings his considerable presence to the role, and when the film is over, you remember who Antonio is.
Lynn Collins, a relative newcomer, has received generally favorable reviews for her Portia. I found her adequate but underwhelming. Then again, having seen Geraldine James play the role on Broadway, it's very hard for me to be impressed by anyone else.
(Casting trivia: Fans of
The Lone Gunmen will spot Zuleikha Robinson, a/k/a "Yves Adele Harlow", as Shylock's daughter, Jessica, and fans of
The Office will spot Mackenzie Crook, a/k/a "Gareth Keenan" as Shylock's former servant, Launcelot.)
Modern productions often soft-pedal the ending of the play, in which Shylock loses his daughter and his fortune and is forced to convert to Christianity. Not this film. The final shot of Pacino's Shylock, a broken man standing alone, is heartbreaking, even though he's done nothing to win the audience's sympathy. It's a fitting and horrible end to a brilliant but horrible drama.
M.