Review: The Merchant of Venice 1936 at Liverpool Playhouse ****

The Merchant of Venice has long been described as a ‘problem play’. Is it a comedy or a tragedy? And is Shakespeare condoning antisemitism or shining a light on its inherent evils?
As to the first question, it has elements of both – there are the Bard’s favourite comedy devices; jokes, disguises and wordplay, marriage and happily ever afters. But there’s also undeniably tragedy in the form of Shylock's predicament.
As to the second? Whatever Shakespeare’s intentions, this resetting of his Tudor original in the febrile world of 30s Britain (specifically 1936 London when the Battle of Cable Street took place) and against the international rise of fascism sits firmly in the latter camp.
Taking the source text, director Brigid Larmour and actor Tracy-Ann Oberman have been bloody, bold and resolute in creating a lean, laser-focused and gripping adaptation that offers stark food for thought in a world riven once again by intolerance.
Here it’s the story of Shylock, restyled as a Jewish matriarch with a heavy Mitteleuropean accent, which takes centre stage, and Oberman – for whom, it's clear from a very personal epilogue, this is much more than simply a role - who commands it.
Her Shylock remains dignified and seemingly implacable in face of a thousand slights and provocations. It’s hard as an audience member not to flinch every time the word ‘Jew’ is spat out with casual-but-venomous disdain by the gilded, proto-fascists and giddy hangers on who torment her.
It’s deeply uncomfortable viewing. But of course, that’s the point.
Dignity and implacability mask fear and vulnerability. And while you may not necessarily warm to Shylock and her implacable stance (and Oberman's makes no gambit for likeability in her performance) you can certainly understand her.
On the face of it, changing Shylock’s sex doesn’t change the emphasis of the plot, although it does raise at least the potential for subtexts – around the idea of power and powerlessness, and also the unspoken (alas, never changing) expectation that the female of the species should be gentle, kind, pliable and accommodating.

Above: Georgie Woods as Portia. Top: Tracy-Ann Oberman as Shylock.
Oberman’s Shylock certainly gives no quarter, and she receives no special treatment because she’s a woman – the quality of mercy continues to be distinctly strained in the justice meted out when she pursues the defaulting merchant Antonio (Joseph Millson) for her promised pound of flesh.
Another woman who gives no quarter (and is also engaged in her own tussle between power and powerlessness) is Georgia Fellows’ heiress Portia, bound by her father’s will to marry the man who picks the correct casket from one of three tempting choices.
Her Portia is an intelligent but brittle and icy blonde aristo, a Mitford type with clipped consonants, cigarette holder and Schiaparelli-style gown who has little time for the string of feckless suitors who present themselves at her door, introduced in 'comedy' scenes which while bringing some light relief also feel somewhat out of joint with the production's focus on Shylock's plight.
Portia brings that iciness to her disguise as a lawyer who manipulates ‘reason’ to bring the moneylender to her knees.

Above: Xavier Starr as Graziano. Production photos by Marc Brenner.
Meanwhile Millson exudes a sinister aura as Antonio, amplified by his immaculate, close-fitting black military-style outfit, jackboots and slicked back hair, part of a wider, very stylish 30s aesthetic from designer Liz Cooke who has evidently looked to both the Bright Young Things and Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts for inspiration.
The sense of period is augmented by historic footage and headlines which are beamed on to the rear of the stage at intervals throughout the play.
Among the supporting cast, Evie Hargreaves proves entertainingly versatile playing both Shylock's disloyal and voluble servant 'Mary' Gobbo and Portia's loyal companion Nerissa, while Xavier Starr is genuinely disquieting as the seemingly genial Graziano who turns out to be a weak and hateful racist.
Frustratingly, while the tight running time intensifies the sense of visceral menace and inflamed tensions, the narrative has lost some of the context around the relationship between Shylock and daughter Jessica (Grainne Dromgoole) which explains why the latter determines to break free with terrible results.
Still, this audacious re-telling of Shakespeare's problematic tale is a compelling piece of live theatre which will have you talking about it long after you've left.
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