The Merchant of Venice
Directed by Abigail Graham
at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

Performances in the intimate Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, next to Shakespeare’s Globe, all share one thing in common: a scarcity of artificial lighting. Instead, they use candles. Lots and lots of candles. They even employ a Candle Consultant (Sally Ferguson). Sometimes this works, sometimes it adds nothing. In this production of The Merchant of Venice, it casts a sinister spell over proceedings, with the laughs coming uneasily and a visceral air of menace present throughout.

This version of the play is heavily tinkered with. Significant scenes are moved around or cut completely, characters are removed and plotlines culled with abandon. Lasting less than two hours, it is a tightly-focused production which moves at a frenetic pace in the first half. There is not even a chance to catch your breath between scenes, with the stage never empty, making it difficult in the early stages to digest the different characters and their relationships to one another. The tempo only slows with the “hath a Jew not eyes?” soliloquy, and the contrast with what has gone before only increases its intensity (even when disturbed by a phone ringing, as in the performance I attended). Shakespeare purists may scoff at some of the changes made by director Abigail Graham, but her production succeeds in creating the desired effect. Gone is the ambiguity of the original text, where all the characters possess flawed personalities, replaced with a clear message that Shylock is the good guy amidst a gang of Christians who abuse their power.

Adrian Schiller’s moneylender steals the show in an understated yet compelling performance. His Shylock is an ordinary businessman, wearing a very average suit and coat, and holding a briefcase on which the shine has long ago worn off. This is not a greedy banker strong-arming people out of their money, but a generally meek and mild-mannered family man who is trying to make his own way in the world and just wants to be accepted in society. His apparent desire for revenge stems only from a growing resentment at the humiliations inflicted on him, and when he has the opportunity to cut the “pound of flesh” from Antonio (Michael Gould), his knife-wielding hand shakes so violently that he would have been unable to do the deed even if he had not been stopped by the disguised Portia.

That scene, in which Shylock is forced to become a Christian and give up his possessions, marks the conclusion of this production. We see the rest of the cast raucously partying, and Shylock walking off stage alone, lonely as ever, but the final act of the play and the joyous reunions of married couples has been cut completely. There is no room for happiness here, only a portrayal of how horrible one group of human beings can be to another.

Lighter moments are rare, but there are some earlier in the play. The scenes in which Portia’s suitors select from three boxes are transformed into an over-the-top gameshow, with name badges for the contestants and the audience encouraged to show their enthusiasm. Portia (Sophie Melville) and Nerissa (Tripti Tripuraneni) shine in these scenes, with the former’s friskiness and narcissism ensuring that she dominates proceedings.

The non-Jewish characters are all thoroughly unlikeable. From the start, they are constantly swigging from bottles of alcohol, cavorting in masks, and exulting in their maliciousness. The scene in which Lancelot (Aaron Vodovoz) deserts Shylock for Bassanio (Michael Marcus) is transported from Act Three to the very beginning of the play, with the servant subject to a cruel anti-Semitic drinking game – from that moment onwards, the villains of the piece are clear. Bassanio himself is shown to be marrying Portia only for her money, rather than out of romantic love. Everyone, seemingly, is a mercenary.

The only character who appears to have deep relationships is Shylock. Perhaps the most touching moment in this entire production is the short conversation between him and Tubal, during which they share an intimate embrace that symbolises their friendship as two outsiders who have been locked out of Venetian society. We also see Shylock’s sadness at his daughter Jessica’s (Eleanor Wyld) elopement, though attempts to make her a main character by having her sing multiple musical refrains are not a success.

The Playhouse itself is used well by the performers. In a space where sightlines for the audience are often poor, they roam across the stage, and speak from within the audience on several occasions. Sarah Beaton’s set remains devoid of furniture throughout, and the rather plain backdrop creates an odd sense of rootlessness. A ladder is used to enable performers to clamber up to the balcony at the back of the set, where the live musicians sit, but this is barely used throughout and serves little purpose. Music is used to effect, however, in raising the tension as the play builds towards the climax and Shylock’s downfall. As he morosely leaves the stage in the final scene, the last candle is extinguished and we are left to reflect on the inhumanity with which he has been treated.

Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, London, 18 February to 9 April 2022

Christopher Day is currently a PhD student at the University of Westminster.