Il mercante di Venezia

I just saw this at the Toronto International Film Festival in the beautiful Elgin Theatre. I was blown away by the beautiful cinematography, the brilliant adaptation of a very tricky play and last but not least, the bravura performance of Al Pacino, who was born to play this role, which was perfectly balanced by an equally strong performance from Jeremy Irons.

The film deftly explores the themes of love vs loyalty, law vs justice, and passion vs reason. Some might protest that the content is inherently anti-semitic, however they should consider the historical context of the story, and the delicate and nuanced way in which it is told in this adaptation.

9/10

I am always impressed when a director (and this case director/screenwriter) takes a piece of classical text - and makes it come alive. Sure, Shakespeare's text can give you goosebumps even when hammered out with self-importance, but to see a production where true inventiveness makes wonderful words even more so - by the provision of context or nuance not found in the stage directions is simply awe-inspiring. There are many troubling things about the play. It is a racist play about racism - and that still sticks. I have never accepted Jessica's desertion of her father without any acceptable reason. I have never accepted the Christians' position of sanctimonious self-righteousness. But, brilliantly, there is a text prologue which helps us understand the times and politics in which the story is set, and mercifully, much of Jessica's part is cut.

The text is quite stripped down with many passages cut. But, I only noticed one line which was cut at the moment when I expected to hear it - and it was replaced by a look that said it all. This economy and judicious editing has given us a gripping movie - not just a film of the play.

And at last, there is a rationale as to why Antonio is so loyal and generous to the undeserving/unrelated Bassanio - you can almost feel Antonio's pulse start to race when he catches glimpse of Bassanio passing by in a gondola, or arriving for a visit. But it is as subtle as that - no more. I was spellbound.

There were many other highlights. I felt the arguments during the trial to be heartbreaking. And, the suitors' trials are hilarious.

Add all that to glorious cinematography and costumes that resonated with the times, and you'll understand why I can't wait to see it again. And again.

The inherent problem with any staging of 'The Merchant of Venice' has never been the pseudo-controversial anti-Semitism, but the fact that there are two story lines wildly different in both tone and content; a frothy romantic comedy and a searing tragedy. While mixing genres was all the rage in the sixteenth century (and mocked by Shakespeare in Hamlet), it rarely fails to grate with modern audiences. As a result, most directors are forced to place an emphasis on one storyline at the expense of the other, and it is no surprise that the decision falls in the favour of Shylock.

Like so many of Shakespeare's great tragic heroes, Shylock continues to fascinate after 400 years because he is such a difficult and complex character. Pitiful, proud, angry, vengeful, weak, arrogant; his behaviour defies simply analysis and continues to be argued over. He is flawed not because he is a Jew, but because he is human. Rarely do modern screenwriters imbue their creations with such richly textured contradictions, and it is to everyone's benefit that we have Shakespeare to draw on for inspiration.

Shakespearean language is wild and rambling, saturated in multiple meanings, word play and metaphor. To be understood it must be wrangled and tamed by an actor with the strength and knowledge to do so. When an actor fails, the words pour forth in a torrent of incomprehensible words, but when he succeeds, the English language springs to life with an immediacy and vibrancy that takes your breath away. Al Pacino is one such actor, and here displays an incredible level of clarity and control that, were there any justice, would sweep every award in the offering. He meets the challenge of presenting Shylock head on, and delivers an extraordinarily subtle and nuanced performance. It would be a crime if we never got the opportunity to see what he does with King Lear.

The supporting cast is noteworthy. Jeremy Irons gives an original take on the familiar Antonio, presenting an older, quieter figure that displays the unsavoury contradictions between medieval chivalry and ugly prejudice of the time. Joseph Fiennes is a revelation as he matures beyond superficial eye-candy to actually inhabit a character for once. Lynn Collins is the only disappointment. Many of Shakespeare's women are underwritten and require an actor to really work hard to bring them to life, and Collins' Gwyneth Paltrow impersonation seems a little flat and unsuited to the darker tone that Radford is aiming for.

The design team must be acknowledged for creating a unique and thoroughly believable vision of Late Renaissance Venice. The city has not looked this ominous since 'Don't Look Now'. Taking full advantage of extant locations and natural light, the film has an appearance of authenticity that is greatly enhanced by the dark and timeworn costume design. All, again, are worthy of award recognition.

The financial backers of films such as this must be commended. With a budget of $30 million, they must go into such a venture in the full and certain knowledge that they will never make a profit, and yet they invest nonetheless. We can all be grateful for it, as the result is a remarkable adaptation that is sure to be a benchmark for many years to come.

Shakespeare's method was to conceive a large construction for each work, then work on language to weave it into being. Between this sky and ground, all sorts of characters, plot lines and situations appear. But they are there in the service of the words and the words are structured around the large notions that form the cosmology of the play.

The situations and characters that result are extremely rich, and those are the things we notice and remember. They are rich because of the massive talent in how the small turns of phrase support the larger containing notions.

When the plays were performed in the form Shakespeare understood, there were essentially no sets or props and the actors' priorities were to convey the language. He knew nothing of the modern notion of acting where actors create characters, characters drive situations and situations define or illuminate a larger context. That's all backwards from his magical tradition.

So putting on a Shakespearian play today is a challenge of high order, at least doing it in such a way that the genius of the thing shines through. Otherwise, you have something of which we have hundreds of thousands of examples from lesser talents. It is made ever harder because actors believe Shakespeare was created for them, and actors — together with other trades who appreciate their perspective — control many creative decisions today.

Matters are much worse when conveying Shakespeare to film. The "language" is different — bigger — including a growing vocabulary of visual language. And the actors are even more unavoidable.

In "Merchant," Shakespeare's big notions had to do with deviation from law in as many forms as he could fit into the play. Foremost among these was the "law" of the dramatic form; this play famously mixes tragedy and comedy. In tragedy, the characters accidentally fall into the machinery of the universe and get ground up, often accelerated by what they "must" do. (In film that would be "noir.")

In Shakespeare's comedies, the characters understand the rules and are able to play with them without hazard for their amusement. (A film equivalent would be screwball.) So one large notion of dealing with law is the very construction of the play: two different notions of law, one within and the other without. Lynch in "Blue Velvet" would similarly have two genres as conflicting characters.

Shakespeare of course piles dozens of other problems with laws, rules and norms into his story: the Venetian legal system, religious prescriptions, and on and on, even down to the duties of a daughter in carrying out her father's eccentric will.

The magic isn't in any of this, impressive as it is. The magic comes in how he constructs the language and metaphors that dart in and out of the various issues and perspectives. Sometimes a metaphor is captured by itself. Sometimes it stands outside itself. Sometimes it even mocks or annotates itself. Its as if he created molecules that have the same lives as the galaxies and then let all the stuff in the middle (people, cities, religions) just emerge but with rich commentary on the laws of emergence.

We do have very good film adaptations of Shakespeare. "Prospero's Books" is a terrifically deep understanding of the spoken and cinematic languages and the self-reference of explicitly portraying the playwright. Branaugh's "Hamlet" appropriately subordinated images and actors (both excellent in his case) to the narrative in the language. Godard's "Lear" is also good, completely translating and discarding the language. Luhrmann's "Romeo and Juliet" takes the kinds of risks with cinematic poetry and magic the source does with language.

Now this. Much has been made of the anti-Semitism, and some about the overt homosexuality. Both are social constructions much younger than this play. For London audiences, no people they knew could be more cartoonish than Italians: foppish, superficial and lacking introspection. This play is anchored on two characters: the aging gay merchant of the title and a rich, ripe orphan virgin. Both end up in differing intrigues over love for the same pretty boy. Both intrigues involve rules, law and money and the writer has them interact.

The Jew and his daughter are secondary, no more important than the contents of the boxes and portrayed no more ruthlessly than the Italians around him. His engagement is more a device to introduce religious law outside that known to the audience. We add the anti-Semitism here, something the adapter decided to accentuate.

This is a nice movie. Everything about it is pretty. Even the modern constructions of characters by Pacino and Irons have a prettiness to them, As an ordinary movie (like say, "Amadeus") it is a reasonable filler of time if your life is lacking in prettiness.

But the source has something far richer to feed us with, the ability to be in a story and think about that story: to break our narrative eye into dozens of fairies, some of which dance outside the engagement and some that are swept along. None of that conveys here. We are instead locked into a single narrative thread, despite many cinematic techniques from others that would have allowed otherwise.

Radford chooses the gold box. We have the sex, not the love. Our ships are lost.

Ted's Evaluation -- 2 of 3: Has some interesting elements.

this film was truly amazing to watch, the costumes and scenery were first-class. Michael Radford has done a tremendous job, on a fairly constrained budget (as he said at the London Premiere). Costumes and general time period pieces were exquisite and Oscar nominations for these would seem in the running.

The acting was simply superb. Al Pacino was (as ALWAYS) perfect. He captured the torture of emotions that run through Shylock impeccably and easily stole the spotlight whenever he was on screen. Jeremy Irons paved the way for great British acting in his earlier times, and now has done the same. Also Lynn Collins, a fairly recent newcomer was perfect as Portia. She was stunning to look at and managed to pull of the speeches with grace.

Although i have all this praise, the film was definitely over-long and many scenes seemed to me like they could have done with a few edits or too. However, the atmosphere of Venice was amazing and it truly felt real in all the mannerisms of the actors.

Ultimately a very successful and ambitious film, that leaves nothing to the imagination, as it is a very realistic approach to Shakespeare. Beautiful to look at and incredible actors too (especially for Pacino) make this a great film that i would watch again an recommend at the drop of a Venetian hat.