Film Noir arose from the ashes of a disenchanted America in the early years of WWII; in the face of genocide, artists sought to find beauty in misery and perhaps no one more successfully than Orson Welles in his adaptation of Shakespeare’s Othello.
A moody looking Welles
as he spies on Desdemona.
Photocredit:
Showatcher
The opening screen focuses on a black corpse emerging from the darkness. Hooded figures solemnly parade the walls of an old citadel to the eerie chanting of a male choir. Hoisted above the throng, a figure gazes on the dead body of Othello; an expression of anguish flits across his face. Welles’ ability to create a visually astounding work of art is unimpeachable. From Cassio’s entrance down the Golden Staircase, to the statue of the Virgin Mary that presides over Iago’s poisonous cajolement of Othello, meticulous care has gone into the smallest of details. Welles demonstrates his deep understanding of Shakespeare’s play in using the visual abilities of film to highlight the underlying metaphors of the text.
Even so, the film is still subject to criticism with Shakespeare scholar J.A. MacFarlane branding it as “little more than a gothic melodrama” in 2012. Act I is summarised by a voiceover, neglecting the most famous lines and abridging Iago’s magnificent “put money in thy purse” speech. Welles has chosen to focus his adaptation on the torment of Othello; a good man who is persuaded into jealousy and distrust of his wife, Desdemona.
As such, Welles’ performance commands attention. Thunderously pacing the stone corridors and surveying with dignity the city of Cyprus. Yet, this focus leads Welles to sideline the issues of race, gender and sexuality present in the play. Thankfully, Welles’ unusually pale black paint never resembles Laurence Olivier’s shoe polish parody but the use of makeup still poses an uncomfortable question: can a white, middle class man understand the issues of alienation and race that a Venetian Moor would have presumably encountered? The only times race becomes palpable is when Othello is faced by members of the senate. In these scenes Welles cleverly uses the camera to show us Othello’s view; a sea of frowning white faces. Only here does Othello feel truly alienated.
Yet, as Adrian Lester pointed out in an interview for Nicholas Hytner’s 2013 production, Othello does not kill Desdemona because he is black. Indeed, before their marriage, race is hardly an issue – he was “oft invited” to Brabantio’s house. Both Welles and Hytner choose to pay little attention to the racial differences, instead prioritising Othello’s individual character traits.
What the adaptation misses most are Iago’s soliloquies that provide an insight into his malicious mind. Iago’s gaze hints at his thoughts and in being constantly focused on Othello, alludes to the homoerotic tensions of the play and set. The actor, who played Iago, Micheál MacLiammoir, reveals in his diary his regard for Welles and struggle to accept the friendship between Welles and Hilton Edwards, who played Brabantio, echoing Iago’s own conflict with Othello and Cassio. Despite the loss of his haunting verse, MacLiammoir’s Iago remains an uncanny presence but fails to be an omnipotent master of events.
Suzanne Cloutier and Orson Welles
in a contemporary campaign poster.
Photocredit: moviemorlocks
This film serves as a reminder in how discussions concerning race, homosexuality and gender politics have altered in the last 60 years. Whilst Welles acknowledges Othello’s race and Iago’s intense stare points inexplicitly to the, potentially contentious, homoerotic tensions, women are disregarded. In neglecting Desdemona, Welles reminds us of her crucial role in convincing the viewer to condemn Othello and Iago.
Orson Welles’ vision failed to receive the thunderous applause he had hoped for. Despite winning the Grand Prize at the Cannes Film Festival in 1952, contemporary reviewer Bosley Crowther branded Welles’ Othello as “hollow and heartless”, engulfed in a “melodramatic display”, in The New York Times. The reception was so mixed that Welles made a public joke about “murdering Shakespeare”. After three years and investing thousands of his own, Welles must have been disappointed in such a divided reception.
Yet, Welles artistic eye and confident performance makes this film a pleasure to watch. He attacks the role of Othello with a “magnificently excessive” vigour that propels Shakespeare’s lines into reality. Welles takes the Romantic notion of a Film Noir, adds Shakespeare, a healthy dose of his own imperious personality and produces a tragic feast for the senses. Egocentricity and technical issues aside, this film should be appreciated in the glory of its artistry.
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