Reviewed by James Karas
In October 1936, the British Union of Fascists (BUF) planned a march down Cable Street in East London, England. It was intended to be a massive show of the power of England’s home-grown fascists under the leadership of Sir Oswald Mosley and with the support of the police. A large number of people, estimated by some at 250,000, from all walks of life opposed the march and put a stop to it. The event has become known as the Battle of Cable Street.
That is the background and explanation of 1936 in the title of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice now playing at the Trafalgar Theatre in London. Shakespeare’s play is adapted by Brigid Larmour and Tracy-Ann Oberman. Oberman plays Shylock, a female money lender in London during the rise of the British Union of Fascists (BUF) and its sickening appeal to antisemitism. It is a shattering production that blew my mind with its emotional power and stunning effectiveness.
Oberman as Shylock is an attractive businesswoman who has been abused by English people, especially the Nazis to an unbearable extent. Calling her a dog, spitting on her and heaping other insults because she is Jewish are the normal way of addressing her. Oberman gives an exemplary performance as a strong, upstanding person who has come to hate her tormentors and wants revenge.
The leading abuser is the merchant Antonio (Joseph Millson) who is a Nazi sporting black clothes and the armband of the BUF. In the play you may have seen him as a benevolent friend of Bassanio (Gavin Fowler) to whom he lends money that he borrows from Shylock. Antonio is a creep who treats Shylock and no doubt all Jews as subhumans.
The Merchant of Venice has two worlds. The world of business where Shylock lends money to Antonio so he can help his friend Bassanio woo Portia (played by Georgie Fellows). Portia is supremely wealthy and belongs to the comic mythical part of the play where she chooses as a husband the suitor who picks the right casket. She is a statuesque blonde beauty wearing a gorgeous gown and holding a large cigarette holder. In short, she is a rich bitch.
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Tracy-Ann Oberman as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice 1936 |
Photo: Marc Brenner |
Videos of Nazi signs and nazi parades appear throughout the play, a visual reminder of the appeal of Hitler. But the most touching and dramatic scene comes as an epilogue at the end of the play. Oberman steps up to the audience and describes the action taken by human beings from all walks of life in London to stop the BUF’s march on Cabell Street that fateful day in 1936. She tells us that her grandmother was one of the people that put a stop to the march. It left me stunned.
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