Pacino has no lock on Shylock

I have three favorite Shakespeare plays:  Hamlet, King Lear, and The Merchant of Venice.  You do not want to sit next to me during a production of Hamlet, as I will likely chant the lines out loud while I watch.  I do not mean to; I have read this play so many times that it oozes out of me.  So well do I know the soliloquys (just ask my kids) that I could probably step in to play Hamlet in any production on a moment’s notice.  I love King Lear for its portrait of human frailty.  Lear is so very mortal and vulnerable in his tragic downward spiral—even his royal stature provides no protection against his own fragile humanity. 

While I admire Hamlet and Lear, I love The Merchant of Venice.  The two main characters, Shylock—the villainous Jewish moneylender—and Portia—the brilliant heroine—are standouts among all Shakespeare’s characters.  Portia resonates with many women; she is “imprisoned” by the traditions of society, watching her youth dwindle as she abides by the terms set out in her father’s will.  She waits for the man who will prove himself worthy, hoping for love but fearing that the victor will be nothing more than a new set of hands upon her reigns.  In the end, she is able to equalize the deficit of her sex, using the power of her wits to prevail—perhaps not gaining the upper hand, but at least serving notice that she is not to be underestimated.

Around this time last year we had occasion to see The Merchant of Venice twice.  The first was a much-acclaimed Broadway production starring Al Pacino in the role of Shylock.  We rushed to New York to see this limited engagement.  It was an interesting production, set in a vintage stock exchange with ticker tape machines.   The financial giants wore modern pin-striped suits, setting off the Jews in their traditional garb.  Pacino’s entrance on stage garnered a show-stopping standing ovation.  I sat back for a spine-tingling afternoon.  Much to my surprise, I was very disappointed.

I do not profess to be a critic or a scholar.  I know what I like and this was not it.  Shylock is said to be one of Shakespeare’s more evil characters.  Certainly there is plenty of evidence that this depiction of Jews as evil was not unusual in its day; Shakespeare would have been familiar, for example, with Marlowe’s Jew of Malta.  That Shylock is meant to repel us is evident.  His brand of vengeance—a pound of flesh—is one of the most horrifying and graphic forms of suffering conceived within Shakespeare’s plays, or any other work of literature for that matter. 

Pacino’s portrayal bothered me.  As amazing and deep as every one of his film roles has been, he just could not seem to rock his inner Jew.  He certainly connected with the evil by which this character is defined.  His relentless and mocking chant, “I will have my bond,” was as cold and mercurial as it gets.  I felt the isolation of this man from Venice society, his riches providing cold comfort as he lived in parallel but not in parity with those around him.  But Pacino’s character was too much in the now.  His Jew suffered only the taunts of those who shared the stage with him.  He did not inhabit a symbolic Jew, one whose presence in the play would have suggested one meaning, and whose presence in the twentieth century would have suggested another.  To be a Jew means to understand one’s context, to relate to the persistence of suffering and judgment.  As he first believed he was the victor in the legal contract, he should have relished the moment with more than transactional interest.  As he watches his vengeance slip away, he should have felt the pain as if it was the last of a million injustices.  

Only a few weeks later, we were treated to yet another production of Merchant, this time starring F. Murray Abraham as Shylock.  Interestingly, Abraham had to clarify for the Boston Globe that he is not Jewish—he is proudly of Syrian descent.

It was quite a contrast to experience these two portrayals in such close proximity .  Abraham brought more dimension to his Shylock, playing the role of the societal punching bag but also showing his place as a man and a father, as well as one marginalized by society.  Evil was his character flaw, while his Jewishness reflected a historical burden.   This was evident in how pains of various types weighed upon him differently.  The treatment by the borrowers, although distasteful, was business as usual, while the betrayal of his daughter Jessica grabbed him by the heart.

I always find a live performance exciting; the chance to see someone famous in a limited production makes it even more so.  I loved seeing Al Pacino in a play because it heightened the excitement of the moment.  I was not, however, duped into loving the performance simply because it was Al Pacino.  Perhaps I am the one who didn’t get it.  Perhaps it was the director who instructed the star that ‘Jew’ was just a metaphor for ‘despicable person’.  And perhaps, in Shakespeare’s day, a comedy would have expected nothing more of such a character.  For me, however, Shakespeare (and I use the name as a category, without regard for whether it was possible or probable for a single man of no education to pen 38 such plays) is important partly because of the way the themes continue to resonate in modern times.  I want my Shylock to be tragic because he is a Jew and evil because he has adapted to his circumstances.  If I were casting a movie, I would pick Pacino every time, but for my money, F. Murray Abraham’s Shylock was infinitely more satisfying. 

Tomorrow's blog:  Born Not to Sing