Review: ‘Othello’ pulls no punches at San Jose Stage

The tragedy of “William Shakespeare’s “Othello” isn’t simply the violence that explodes in the play’s denouement. True devastation festers from the onset, when the play introduces Black Othello and white Desdemona’s love.

Deeper examination of the text makes it clear that marriage under any circumstances would be problematic. Nuptials between a strong Black man and a petite white woman would never be allowed in Venice — clearly the couple was aware of this, leading to their hasty, secret union.

Despite a wedding that should be associated with joy, it’s just a matter of moments before Othello’s life becomes a fit of revengeful rage.

San Jose Stage Company’s production of “Othello” hits many correct notes, which have nothing to do with the smoking-hot jazz tunes that turn the stage into a 1950s film-noir world. Director Kenneth Kelleher does terrific things when sets are minimal, and there is nothing fancy here; a bare stage, sprays of light that touch up the surroundings, textured with appropriately-named venetian blinds. A chalk outline of a body not so subtly rests on the floor — foreshadowing of impending doom.

The tragedy lies between Othello (Aldo Billingslea) and Desdemona (Charisse Loriaux). A deep, profound love radiates between them, as Othello recalls tears Desdemona shed for him as he described past traumas.

While the love between them is covered in fascination and deep longing, one jealous soul makes it a quest to exterminate any hint of tenderness. That would be “Honest” Iago (Johnny Moreno), a man who mortgages every ounce of virtue to implement brutal cruelty. Othello could not possibly have gotten her to simply fall in love with him, in the eyes of many. Witchcraft had to be the only answer as to why Desdemona would run to his “sooty bosom.”

Iago is a duplicitous chess grandmaster, moving pawns all over the board to maximize the blood bath. His plots are not set against Othello alone; others are locked into his crosshairs. The foolish and weak Roderigo (Nick Mandracchia) contrasts with suave and debonair Michael Cassio (Davied Morales), each finding themselves enmeshed in Iago’s endgame. And Iago’s dutiful wife Emilia (Judith Miller) is tricked into the critical plot point which leads to the actions informed by Othello’s mind; he’s a man hellbent on avoiding cuckoldry.

While the staging generally works extremely well, some moments, such as Iago’s frenetic movement towards the lighted circles, need more clarity; and some dialogue was swallowed up by microphone inconsistency. But the unifying theme of jazz and film-noir’s mystery does well to craft a world of darkness and deceit, a seamless unifier leading the narrative to a scintillating end.

What stands above are the performances coupled with Shakespeare’s disturbing language, words used as a cudgel to drill into a Black man’s insecurities. Othello is referred to as an “old black ram,” “thick lips” or constantly, pejoratively, as, “The Moor.” The reduction of Othello as a man is a societal venture, and to see him self-destruct is devastating. Moreno’s skillful portrayal of Iago is gleeful, interpreting mightily a haughty villain who uses perceived slights to inform his rancor.

Much of Shakespeare’s language is completed with supreme divinity in this production. Many iconic words tell this disturbing tale, including the various plots laid out by the brutal Iago. Miller’s expression of what it means to take residence in a misogynistic world always hits with aplomb, and her interpretation of Emilia’s signature monologue about husbands and wives — “though we have some grace, yet we have some revenge” — scintillates. Loriaux finds plenty of moments to play tender alongside betrayal with radiance.

Billingslea’s Othello is loaded with nuance and texture. He is fueled by jealousy and informed by racism and suspicion, one with no peers. Billingslea is a terrific actor, well-suited for this turn so rich in history for Black performers, icons such as Paul Robeson and Ira Aldridge having canonized the role.