For he's a pretty good Othello (at the West Yorkshire Playhouse)

Barrie Rutter directs Lenny Henry as the title role in Shakespeare's Othello at the West Yorkshire Playhouse in Leeds.


It's not often you think that Shakespeare's tragic Othello might be being played as a comedy. But the Northern Broadsides have cast Dudley's comedian Lenny Henry as the Moor of Venice, and this idea takes a little getting used to.

In fairness to him, Henry is a pretty decent Othello, and a better actor than his TV work gives him credit for. He puts in a good turn as the black general in a white man's army, fighting the heathen Turk on behalf of the Venetian senate just after eloping with a senator's daughter. He shows us not only the stately nobleness of the honoured military genius, the boisterous glee of the newly-wedded lover, but also the shuddering confusion of the man tormented by his own jealous fears and the bursts of rage of the passionate man pushed too far. He is a restrained man in an alien world, with drinking games and loose morals. Deceit lies around every corner, and Othello is just that little bit too trusting to survive long in such a world.

Speaking of deceit, Conrad Nelson swaggers about the stage as an Iago keen to be everyone's confidential friend unless it serves his interests to be hostile to them. He pleads with Othello, his friendship and love for his boss drawing him to discreetly splash about his groundless insinuations, which then permeate and spread through Othello's mind. He's a bundle of feral energy, who somehow manages to cut a dashing figure in his burgundy military uniform.

The Northern Broadsides carry this tragedy off with customary panache, and in far better style than their Romeo and Juliet of last year. Their musicians are in fine form as ever, especially in a drinking game that looks like it may have first seen life in a panto routine somewhere. That's a compliment, by the way, to the stagecraft and handling of a complex set of exchanges. Naturally, the cast all use that 'northern voice' the Broadsides are so keen on. It's their hallmark, what they've become known for. That, and very little set. Othello has just a balcony, and a bed and torches for Desdemona's later scenes. What this means the Broadsides have to do is encourage the audience imagination. With their expansive black set, the Broadsides leave the words to set the scene, and the rest is up to us – turning the stage into a Cypriot street or the Venetian Senate chamber.

The northern voice thing is what makes it so interesting that Lenny Henry (Dudley's most famous son?) has been cast. I've nothing against his casting; he's good, surprisingly good for a comedian taking on a tricky tragic role – the fact that he is a black character written by a white man is sometimes painfully obvious. Henry's accent, though, is more difficult to place. His voice booms out, but where is it from?

It's a funny thing with criticism of classics like Bill Shakey's work, or even older things like the Greek tragedies, that we rarely seem to say much about the script itself (unless we're talking about a 'problem play', like The Taming of the Shrew or The Merchant of Venice). Some of these plays have become so enshrined in national consciousness that there's no point in mentioning things about script - the performance has become what matters. In some ways, that's a good thing; at least we aren't seeing them as only written documents, but as plays to be performed. But are they in danger of loosing their literary status? Is it allowed, or somehow a taboo, to criticse the Bard? Are we allowed to say - for example - that we'd like to see more of Othello's destructive jealousy before Iago has had chance to turn him against Desdemona? Is that so wrong? Or, can I praise the use of that fatal handkerchief at the end, that exposes Iago's villainy?