When you take a class of 20 opinionated students from Barnard and Columbia and place them in a theater, there are bound to be opinions. Throw Denzel Washington and Jake Gyllenhaal in there and you get even more. Here is my review.  

There was a fever in the crowd. There was mystery. But more than that, there was a sense of anticipation for the famous faces to grace the stage this past Wednesday night. Upon arriving at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre for Kenny Leon’s Othello, I was instantly consumed by the crowd waiting outside the doors. Attendants told us to shut down our phones, immediately cutting our single most important cord with the outside world. Walking into the theater felt like walking into an exclusive scene of both people who were there to say they went, and self proclaimed theater fanatics. It was dizzying to overhear the bits of conversation wafting from the bar to the seats, but I persevered. 

Thirty minutes before the production began, I climbed to the back of the mezzanine and picked up my playbill, meeting up with the rest of Barnard professor Patricia Denison’s Shakespeare in Performance class. I stared down at the playbill as two stern faces looked back at me and I wondered if, with every accolade next to their names, they would deliver as captivating a performance as everybody believed they were capable of. 

My mind began to churn. What is that floating object dangling from? Is that the object really the handkerchief we see later in the play? Why does it look so strange? And who could possibly be on the aux cord right now? The confusing nature of the set design was exactly what began the excitement for me and my classmates. We didn’t really know what was going to happen until the opening music began. It had all of my classmates and I buzzing, probing a reluctant Keala Henry (BC ‘26), current junior and Shakespeare aficionado, to tell us what it was. She told us to wait, but I could tell she was keeping her opinions from seeing it before to herself. 

The play’s production, with its moving pillars and dark lighting, captured my attention right from the start. Even though the play was set “in the near future,” as we were told by projections on the pillars, I had the immediate feeling it was more modern than futuristic. The cast was adorned in formal business attire and later switched into military type uniforms. It had the elements of “bro culture” and also a sense of the main characters’ deeply disturbing need for power. I enjoyed the costumes, except for the strange decision to have Desdemona dressed in a pantsuit, which I felt was almost too matronly for my liking. It also confused me to see Emilia in a military uniform. I still can’t quite figure out this decision. Honestly, most of my classmates couldn’t either. Like Abigail Fixel (BC ‘26), Barnard junior and icon of the stage, said, “Especially on Broadway, an audience must know where they are to follow the storyline and enjoy the production.” If she didn’t know what was going on at some points, I most certainly didn’t. And I trust any student director at Barnard’s words through and through. 

Obviously being a fan of Jake Gyllenhaal’s film and TV work, like Brokeback Mountain and Presumed Innocent, I was interested to see how he would take on the conniving role of Iago. We know Iago is jealous and we also know that his main goal is to take down Othello slowly and painfully. While I can’t help but say that I loved how they chose to dress Othello in a tight green shirt, I think I enjoyed the performance of Gyllenhaal more than that of Denzel Washington. Not only were Gyllenhaal’s facial expressions terrifying but hilariously real, his manipulative side was also clear. 

This one part of the play is notable because the break right before intermission had Gyllenhaal saying he will be the loyal servant before embracing Washington. The stage cut to black. I let out a small gasp. I loved Gyllenhaal’s almost Jekyll-and-Hyde like appearance as well as the way in which he chose to defend himself in order to escape accusations. I got the sense that he truly wished to protect himself no matter what it would take–even killing his own wife in a dramatic, out-of-nowhere knife slice that had me basically jump into Abigail’s arms. 

Fixel noted, “I knew what was coming–that the play would culminate in Othello’s suicide–yet I still found myself holding my neighbor’s hand (thank you Ursula) and gasping in shock.” What can I say, us humanities students are emotional! 

When the final curtain came down, it was safe to say that the ending of Othello gave way to people talking. The conversation erupted throughout the room, so much so that it was all that you could think about. My classmates and I turned to each other, asking what we thought of the set and lighting or the costumes and the sequence of the production’s interesting directorial choices. Even though we didn’t have our phones on, many of us didn’t care. We just wanted to talk. Until we left the theater that night, the last three hours of our lives had been immersed in the world of Othello, whether we liked it or not. 

It was a captivating experience, and I wish I could say more about it from a theatrical perspective, but my theater knowledge is not as robust as I wished it was. The best part was that that didn’t matter. I got to listen and learn. I got to share my own perspective and my classmates heard me for what I had to say. The following day as I sat in my seminar, I had not just a greater appreciation for the performing arts, but a personal realization that the theater truly brings all people together in a united front–even if just for a single night. 

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