From Nov. 19 through Nov. 21, “Desdemona: A Play About a Handkerchief” played five shows at the Hepburn Zoo. The script, written 30 years ago by Pulitzer-winning playwright Paula Vogel, is inspired by Shakespeare’s “Othello.” But, as the title alludes, Vogel’s work shifts away from the tragic hero of Venice and focuses on the women of the story: Desdemona, Emilia and Bianca.
For those familiar with “Othello,” his pregnant absence may at first be distracting. And, played with any less strength, “Desdemona” could have easily become a play about the absence of a man: the threat of his discovery of Desdemona’s infidelities looms just beyond reach; his whims and desires dictate the actions and reactions of his wife and servant, even extant only in repetition; his hand is felt as a ripple of sound through the audience as it strikes Desdemona’s flesh offstage.
But from the moment Emily Kron ’10 steps on stage, the women possess the story. It becomes their story and Othello fades from the viewer’s attention, becoming the eerie background-presence so necessary for the play’s success. The audience watches as Emilia is created before their eyes: her bearing and speech is that of a worker and her manner is as coarse as her hands, but the tenderness in her expression is impossible to ignore, as are the dreams that define her as not only worker but woman. Kron commands the role of Emilia with a natural facility that reflects her remarkable talent. She owns the character in all aspects, beginning with the rigid clockwork of her movements and balancing the nearly embittered and cautiously hopeful tones of her voice. There is even something in the angle of Kron’s face that seams to cut the character into real space.
The contrast between Desdemona and Emilia is immediately apparent. The polarized rapport that develops in their difference is expected, a given from the first moment they share the stage. While Emilia is hardened, wearied more by experience than age, Desdemona is her opposite: newly wedded, well educated, and bored by routine, Othello’s unabashedly unfaithful wife brings to life a dichotomy so stark it could be comical. Claire Graves’s ’10 delivery is capable and well-exacted: Desdemona is sharp, her capriciousness biting and acidic. At the same moment, her crippling loneliness is evident, and her clear naiveté saves her from antagonism. In the end, while no heroine, Graves becomes a Desdemona who is appealing in her own humanity, one who makes mistakes and is paid with tenfold the malice of her own intent.
Their interaction is defined by opposites: privilege and servitude, leisure and work. But it is not here that Graves and Kron excel. Though less obvious, the closeness of the two women is what binds the message of the work to its players and eventually evokes the audience’s rush of compassion for the quiet tragedy of their fates. Without compromising the integrity of their characters, the actresses succeed in realizing Emilia and Desdemona’s commonalities: a desperate desire for financial independence and security, a sense of belonging and the sudden haunt of disillusionment.
Bianca, played by Jessica Halper ’11.5, is a prostitute subject to the deliberate scorn of Emilia and the temporary favor of Desdemona. Her character becomes an catalyst for revolution for their relationship: Bianca is a kind of foil for each of the others, in ways that they cannot foil each other. Through her, we see the caustic cruelty of Emilia. Kron’s performance truly shines in countering Bianca, and it is through this interaction that she is set up to be punished by Desdemona. Desdemona, for her part, is revealed to be more insecure than she had let on; in Bianca, she sees freedom and liberation from the “lie that [marriage] is.” But in Bianca’s sadly comical attempts at mimicking the gentlewoman, we see how desperate Desdemona is. We see it again in the irony of her prostitution. In her desire to “see the world,” she ends up sleeping with her housekeeper’s husband. Desdemona looks for satisfaction in all of the wrong places and ends up finding it nowhere.
Schuyler Beeman’s ’10 skill in directing is evident throughout. The purposefully stylized scene changes may at first seem arbitrary, but as the plot develops, and with the characters of the women, these transitions clearly serve to echo and reiterate the interactions of the women. Each pause forces viewers to reflect on the emotions of the scene, ultimately underscoring the nuanced performances of Graves, Kron and Halper. His hand is less obvious between these transitions and the physical acting of the women is both seamless and fluid. Despite the intermittently exaggerated aspects of each character, their movements and expression never cross the line, but rather ground them in a reality that extends their definition as women.
Beeman’s interpretation of Vogel’s script is ultimately impressive. Kron and Graves deliver resonant and skillful performances, allowing “Desdemona” to succeed not only in evoking emotion, but in doing so naturally. The result is amusing, strange and beautiful.
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