The Merchant of Venice

The toughest thing about staging 'The Merchant of Venice' is ending it on the right note. Our lovers have crushed the most compelling character in the piece, grinding him to dust until he's less then an afterthought. They then proceed to Portia's home, where they play cute romantic games, and the story wraps on a variation of "and they went off and had sex." It's as if Shakespeare set out to write a comedy, found himself in the middle of a tragedy, and felt compelled to wrestle the damn thing back onto comic territory, no matter what.

The Pacino 'Merchant of Venice' handles this ending better than any other production I've seen. It doesn't let the lovers (or Jessica, for that matter) off the hook. Rather, by juxtaposing their delight with Shylock's horror and Jessica's remorse, it convicts them of a heartlessness which we can only infer from the text.

The production values, as one would expect, are world-class, and the actors nail their roles. Fiennes and Irons are brilliant and, though the homoerotic implications of their relationship threaten to overwhelm the piece, said implications pay off wonderfully as we see Lynn Collins's Portia wondering just what she's gotten herself into. Then there's Pacino. Though we can never get past the fact that it's Pacino-as-Shylock, he brings profound sadness and humanity to his role. People love to hammer movie stars when they take on Shakespeare, but I think the man acquitted himself well. (Personally, I'd love to see his take on Richard III - I think he'd knock it out of the park!)

I had high hopes for 'The Merchant of Venice,' and I was not disappointed. It's well worth the rental.