Seeped in irrational hatred for Othello the Moor (Orson Welles), Iago (Micheál MacLiammóir) sets out to destroy him and fellow officer Michael Cassio (Michael Laurence). Othello has recently married the beautiful, young Desdemona (Suzanne Cloutier, voice: Gudrun Ure), much to the regret of the foolish Roderigo (Robert Coote, voice: Orson Welles), who wanted her for himself. Iago uses Roderigo in his plot to disgrace Cassio, and than persuade Othello that Desdemona is unfaithful.
Shakespeare meets Ingmar Bergman in this heavily stylized adaptation of Othello by the masterful and egotistical Orson Welles. At times beautiful, watching it is an odd experience, like watching a poorly dubbed art film made by a mad Russian. So, a bit of history is in order.
Producer, director, co-writer, star, and uber-kid Welles shot Othello on and off over four years, with numerous halts due to budget problems. Twice he took acting gigs to raise money to continue. Sometimes he would leave actors on location in Morocco and Italy as he searched for funding. This resulted in numerous cast changes, not to mention physical alterations as actors age and sometimes eat, or on Welles’s salary, don’t eat. And even when they looked the same, the makeup didn’t. Welles goes through a range of facial colors over the course of the movie. As sound recording costs, the dialog was added in post production, and not always by the same people who are on the screen. Welles dubbed not only himself, but others, including a majority of Coote’s Roderigo. To make this less noticeable, unusual camera angles were used that obscured the actors’ mouths. It was only partially successful. There are times when a character is obviously speaking, but no words can be heard.
But all that was probably for the best. Welles was at the top of his game when he was forced to be inventive in an emergency. To make up for missing costumes, an attack was moved to a Turkish bath. To masquerade the inability to retain locations for a full scene, Welles used montages and twirling, vertiginous camera movements.
Partly due to Welles’s “vision,” and partly due the requirements of the low budget, the film takes on a surreal quality, which is massively helpful to the story. As I commented in my review of Olivier’s 1965 version, Othello is a play with characters that are several steps removed from reality. They are too stupid for anything but comedy. But that is no problem for Welles as everything is several steps removed from reality. The looming structures and dreamlike funeral procession owe more to myth than the physical world. Iago makes little sense in straight productions, but here he is a malignant dwarf, a demon who might be a man, but is more likely a devil, or perhaps the dark elements of Othello’s mind. As for Othello, are we even seeing his actions? We may be watching the ping-pong paranoia of a broken man. Whatever the case, objections stemming from reality have no place here.
Welles’s focus is on tone, style, and emotional impact. He displays no concern for the sanctity of the play, slicing it to ribbons and moving segments about as he wills. The fat has certainly been excised, resulting in a lean, rocket of a film. Clocking in at ninety-three minutes, this is concise and exciting Shakespeare, but perhaps best suited for those who are already familiar with the play.