Summary 
Traditionally staged problem comedy is more of a dramatic parable with broadly comic interludes. Somber and serious, with complex and intelligent direction. An exceptional - and musical - Portia is the heroine: a romantic co-star and a gentle but eloquent foil to the stubbornly angry Shylock. Richly realized entertainment.
Design
Directed by Richard Monette. Designed by Ann Curtis. Lights by Kevin Fraser. Compositions by Loreena McKennitt. Sound by Jim Neil. Choreographed by John Broome.
Cast
Brian Tree (Duke), Rami Posner (Prince of Morocco), Tim MacDonald (Prince of Arragon), Peter Hutt (Antonio), Donald Carrier (Bassanio), Nicolas Van Burek (Gratiano), Raymond O'Neill (Salerio), Timothy Askew (Solanio), David Snelgrove (Lorenzo), Paul Soles (Shylock), Paul Dunn (Launcelot Gobbo), Joseph Shaw (Old Gobbo), Lucy Peacock (Portia), Sarah Dodd (Nerissa), Adrienne Gould (Jessica).
Analysis
Seventy-year-old Paul Soles makes his Stratford Festival debut as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice on a very sad note, as a late replacement for his friend Al Waxman, who passed away suddenly. Soles, the first Canadian Jew to play the role at the Festival, delivers a strong performance, portraying a hard-working and fiercely proud merchant who is tragically stubborn and more than a little vindictive. In a sensitively directed production that works well on a variety of levels - charming romance, courtroom drama - Soles' iconic Shylock is short of stature but fiery in spirit, clad in a sleeveless black tunic and yarmulke, and with a yellow circle sewn on his clothing that publicly marks him as Jewish. Typically low lit, Shylock is depicted lurking and working within shadows, bent over his desk even at night. Strict but not severe, harsh but not wicked, Soles' Shylock is far from a caricature in a pivotal and realistic performance.
Richard Monette stages the production in the early seventeenth century, with a shadowy and claustrophobic Venice bustling with street noise and chattering merchants contrasting against the colorful gowns that adorn the women of Belmont. The Belmontese wealthy elite possess servants and attendants - including Portia with her entourage adorned in dresses that shine with metallic sheen the same color as the caskets which they attend - and upstage a garden can be seen beneath a clear blue sky adorned with birds in flight. The Duke and his officious senators stride purposefully across the stage in resplendent red robes. A predominantly serious tone is prevented from being grim by cleverly placed lighter moments, including the interlude with the caskets and Portia and Bassanio romancing each other. Several scenes are a relief in their disarming comical impact - Gratiano leaps from a gondola while gnawing on a slice of pizza; Old Gobbo wields a whoopee cushion to a rumblingly loud sound effect; and the Prince of Arragon lisps in a high-pitched voice and minces around in an absurdly puffy costume - but the portrayal of the Prince of Morocco was found offensive by some Muslims during preview performances. The Council of American-Islamic Relations raised formal objections to the Festival, and Monette successfully compromised by modifying the scene in which the smitten Prince lays prostrate before Portia, having him merely bend to one knee instead. The comical prince still leers and speaks with a thick accent, wears a desert sheik costume, brandishes a scimitar, and performs a wild somersault.
Apart from these interludes, Monette's production is serious in tone and execution. The production begins with Antonio in a spotlight, on his knees and fervently praying behind his desk, a subtle contrast to the similarly lit Shylock later, who apparently works more than he prays. When Shylock - clearly the villain, snarling and insistent - dictates the pound of flesh as penalty, Antonio - clearly the hero, dashing and indignant - throws the bag of Shylock's money to the floor, clears his ears with his fingers, and intones a disbelieving, "what!?"
Lucy Peacock's Portia anchors the production, a mature and intelligent heroine around which the plot elements revolve. She underplays the comic casket interludes with bemused dignity, the object of desire for her suitors, and she endures the silliness with a sly smile, apparently content to honor her deceased father's wish. She becomes the romantic lead with Bassanio, and when he makes the correct - and humble - choice, she is moved to the verge of tears and falls to her knees before her soon-to-be husband. Peacock even provides a musical interlude - playing a lute and singing John Donne's "Go and Catch a Falling Star" - before entering the Antonio/Shylock fray in disguise to orchestrate the resolution. Her intervention is strong and emotional, enough to break down even the persistence of Shylock, but she then shows characteristic sympathy and understanding - even kind and gentle words - when she helps Shylock to his feet in a courtroom filled with people who revile him. Peacock's performance resonates, a terrifically played noble core of a difficult play.
Monette's vision for The Merchant of Venice - a traditional staging, with a fairy tale romance and a few comic interludes embedded within a dramatic parable - features a surprisingly strong focus not just on Shylock, but on Jessica. Monette concludes each of the three acts of the production with a stage portrait of Shylock's daughter: at the end of the first act, she drops her house keys and looks alarmed, fearing her imminent escape may be discovered and prevented; at the end of the second act she stands alone and afraid as Shylock appears in the balcony above, watchful and distrusting, twirling the ring on his finger; and at the conclusion, she and Lorenzo are shown in vivid spotlights at opposite sides of the stage, their romance dissolving, and the lights slowly fade as Jessica begins to tremble and weep. This melancholy conclusion - and especially the wise focus on the effects of both racism and stubborn pride on ensuing generations - comes as a complex surprise after the triumph of the trial, but Monette consistently tackles the difficulties of the play, bravely maintaining the comical elements of a controversial character, boldly confronting the issues of hatred and racism, and providing an ultimately just legal resolution.
The trial itself is the dramatic centerpiece of the production. With the house lights remaining up so the audience becomes involved as spectators - and participants in Shylock's humiliation - at the courtroom, Gratiano enters with angry energy, and the proceedings begin. Peacock's Portia enters with some uncharacteristic trepidation - she is otherwise consistently played with supreme confidence - and she begins her impassioned arguments only after an exchange of looks with Nerissa and a deep calming breath. Peacock's Portia, eloquent and emotional, of course succeeds brilliantly - she delivers the wonderful "quality of mercy" speech over her shoulder directly to the audience, imploring the whole world for an increase in sympathy and compassion - and wins Antonio's life. The onstage reaction against Shylock is vitriolic: Gratiano spits on him at the start, and after the humiliation, he throws Shylock roughly to the floor and callously yanks the yarmulke from his head. The gracious Portia helps Shylock to his feet and gently inquires after his feelings - "art thou contented" - her compassion softening the ugliness of the trial's resolution.
Conversely, Monette stages the finale with beauty and joy subtly tempered by the sadness between Jessica and Lorenzo. With twinkling stars along the upstage walls, and amid a glow of golden light, three of Portia's servants toss flower petals from the balcony as the victors take the stage and singers croon, "tell me where is fancy bred?" The unabashed celebration fills the stage, and the celebrants are pointedly unaware of the weeping Jessica in a subtle, smart and well-executed concluding moment.