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The Merchant of Venice

At Eliot House

By Thomas K. Schwabacher

The Eliot Drama Group production of The Merchant of Venice is in many ways an indication of how much can be done with how little. The play, to be sure, is by Shakespeare, but it is not among his greatest comedies and it has a flavor of anti-semitism repugnant to modern audiences. Most of the actors are, furthermore, relative new-comers to the local dramatic scene. Yet they all tackle their assignments with obvious enthusiasm and high spirits, and in the end bring to life a production that is very enjoyable.

In the beginning, however, the going seems a little rough, mainly because the play is not very funny. Throughout the first half of the comedy, most of the humor is at the expense of the Jew, Shylock, whom the poet conceived as a grasping, vengeful figure intent on exacting his pound of flesh from the Merchant. But director Richard Smithies has wisely chosen not to make Shylock the butt of all the jokes, even though he succeeds only partially in finding funny material elsewhere in the play.

Instead of being humorous, the Shylock of Arthur Loeb emerges as a sympathetic, almost tragic figure. Loeb possesses a commanding stage presence and a fine speaking voice. When he limps across the stage, the limp is pathetic rather than ridiculous, and when he rages for justice, he seems to deserve it. This may be wrenching Shakespeare, but it is a pull in the right direction.

The other actors tend to pall a little beside Loeb, but nearly all of them redeem themselves in the truly funny final scene. Here Edith Iselin, as Portia, and Paul Schmidt, as Bassanio, lose their initial remoteness and become recognizable as lovers. Jean Loud, in the part of Nerissa, is charming throughout, gaining stature as the play progresses. As Launcelot Gobbo, a clown, Michael Pollatsek injects some humor into the early scenes by cleverly contrived pomposity and overacting. Ernest Eugene Pell, on the other hand, gives a somewhat too unobtrusive, if competent, performance as Antonio, the Merchant. Yet the only serious defect in the acting of these and the other members of the large cast is their sloppyness in meeting cues. If Smithies subjects them to a little more discipline, they should be much more polished in subsequent performances. Yet all the rough spots of the opening night can still not blot out a thoroughly likeable job.

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