Session Five: Week 11

Tuesday

We were thrilled tonight to welcome actress Dani Cochrane as a visitor to our group. Some time ago, I asked the ensemble if they’d be interested in bringing in visitors who have worked on Othello in the past to get a different perspective, and we were very happy that Dani, who recently played Emilia at the Hilberry Theatre, was available to join us.

We welcomed her, bringing her into the circle and asking her some questions right off the bat about the character. Many of us were interested in hearing Dani’s interpretation of how much Emilia knows and when she knows it. She believes that, while Emilia may not be totally innocent, given her theft of the handkerchief and silent observance of its aftermath, she doesn’t realize what’s truly happened until she sees Desdemona dead. Most of the ensemble members seem to be coming to this same conclusion, although we’re definitely still in the exploratory stage.

We then worked on Act III Scene IV – we’ve decided that, having read the entire play in order, we don’t need to explore the scenes that way. After we went through the scene once, the woman who read Othello apologized to the woman reading Desdemona, thinking she’d scared her.

But that’s appropriate for the scene, the group countered. The woman playing Desdemona remarked that the first time her husband yelled at her, she got scared and jumped the same way she did on stage, and since it fit the scene well, she didn’t see any need for her scene partner to apologize. We talked about this particular challenge – that in order to tell our story truthfully, we will have to treat each other on stage in ways we never would in “real life” – we need to continue to maintain our safe space, knowing that what happens on stage stays there, and that we can explore those darker emotions knowing that we will come back to our caring ensemble.

The woman who read Emilia had done a very interesting thing – she made a decision to sweep with a mimed broom through most of the scene because she had so few lines. We applauded this decision to find an activity, but noted that it kept her from listening as much as she could have, and it had potential to be distracting. We encouraged her to find a subtler activity that would enable her to participate more in the scene between Desdemona and Othello through listening. We wanted to see what that would do to Emilia.

We found that the next time through gained depth, as everyone listened to each other a little more and found their feet more firmly in the scene. Then we switched it up so more people could have a chance to explore.

Our second Othello committed even more to Othello’s anger – she actually stopped for a moment to apologize, and we all excitedly encouraged her NOT to apologize – to keep going with it! Afterward, the second Desdemona said that this Othello’s increased intensity made her think more about what she should be doing. She felt that she didn’t need to move, and maybe she shouldn’t. We also noticed that the second Emilia had somehow managed to move from one part of the stage to another without any of us noticing – something Dani called “floating” and said was a very important aspect of playing Emilia when she did it.

We tried the scene again, with more movement from Othello (and no apologies this time!), and new things tried by the rest of us (I was reading Cassio). When we finished and checked in with each other, the woman reading Desdemona said, “There were moments when I tingled… I just want to know the lines so I can really do it.”

We asked Dani a few more questions before we disbanded for the evening, and getting her take on some other aspects of the play – audience involvement, Desdemona’s foreshadowing – was really great. The group seemed to really enjoy and value her input, and Dani shared with me that it was a wonderful evening for her, too.

Friday

We began the evening with a lengthy but productive circle discussion about how we want to handle guest visits and adding co-facilitators in the future. We haven’t arrived at any conclusions yet, but given we are not unanimous, it was an important conversation to have and to continue. We’re going to give ourselves some time to ruminate and continue to discuss before making any decisions.

And then we decided to try something completely new. We took Act IV Scene I, and we played “Freeze” with it. “Freeze” is an improv game in which, during a scene, one of the ensemble members shouts, “freeze,” tags one actor out, and takes her place, creating a completely new scene from the same physical position. In this case, though, we altered it so that we would simply take over the scene from each other whenever we felt moved to do so. As we were in a classroom and already seated in a circle, we decided to work in the round and not worry so much about our presentation of the scene – to just feel our way through it.

This turned out to be a great exercise, and one we’re likely to revisit regularly. We found that approaching the scene for the first time on its feet in this way took pressure off of us and allowed us to work together more as a group – to sense when someone wanted to be taken out of the scene and jump in, or to know that you wouldn’t be “taking opportunity away” from someone else if you jumped in because no one was going to stay in for the whole scene. Working in the round gave us a different perspective, too – it made us feel at once more confined and safer when we were on our feet (interesting when working on a play like this), and it helped us focus on each other and not a potential audience (process over product!).

The woman who first was on her feet for Othello’s “trance” or “fit” chose not to have a seizure, but to sink into a chair, totally shut down. At that point, I was on my feet as Iago, and it made me feel that much colder and more spiteful that I could wave my hand in front of her face while taunting her, knowing she wasn’t truly there. Many people in the group liked her interpretation. “Well, I’ve been there,” she said wryly.

Several people read both Othello and Desdemona in this scene, and it gave them insight. “I went from angry to vulnerable,” said one. “It was like two sides of the same coin,” said another. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.” We also all loved an ensemble member’s take on Bianca – it was so truthful that we all felt like we know that woman – we’ve seen that before!

We decided to do it again, tagging each other out more frequently but also trying to commit more to sustaining the energy of the scene as we switched on and off. We were able to do this to a certain extent, although we weren’t totally successful – and that’s okay. We work to preserve an atmosphere where we don’t need to succeed all the time, and we all dug into talking more about the exercise after the scene concluded.

There are pros and cons to this approach, we decided. When we swap, it throws us off a bit – we can’t dig as deeply into the emotional parts of the scene because the material really is written for one person to sustain, beginning to end. That said, we like it for exploration and gaining perspective. One person noted that it required her to focus more and “put more effort and intensity in” because she didn’t know how long she’d have in the scene – it raised the stakes. It let us work through the scene more quickly, which is a bonus in a group that has a large contingent of people who like working that way. And, when we made sure to check in with everyone, we found that even ensemble members who only watched gained a better understanding of the scene – so it seems we have a consensus that we want to keep this in our arsenal of approaches to the material. We also all agreed that we need to combine with this with a more traditional approach – the same people doing the scene all the way through.

Most people in the group would like to begin casting the play in the second week of December, and it seems like, especially with this new way of working, we will have the understanding of the play and the comfort with each other to do that work “on schedule.” It’s a good feeling for all of us.

Session Five: Week 10

Tuesday

We began tonight with a brief discussion of the end of Act IV Scene II, in which Iago enlists Roderigo to kill Cassio. We are still divided on what motivates Roderigo to do what Iago tells him to do – why he gets sucked back in every time he tries to pull out. This is really going to come down to whichever ensemble member plays Roderigo – I doubt we’re ever all going to agree!

We then read Act IV Scene III, the scene between Emilia and Desdemona as the latter prepares for bed. “What is this scene about?” I asked the group. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, is giving me anxiety,” said one ensemble member.

We all agreed that Desdemona has some sense in this scene of what is about to happen to her – whether she fully realizes that she is about to die was a point of debate, but we all agreed that she knows something bad is about to occur. “She’s resigned,” said one woman, “She’s not even fighting anymore.”

Why does she stay? “She loves Othello so much and is so loyal. She’d rather stay than go. She’s more willing to die because he thinks of her this way,” suggested one person. We picked apart Desdemona’s final line in the scene – “Heaven me such uses send, / Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend.” Again we were divided: is she saying that she can somehow mend the rift between her and her husband, or is she saying that killing her is what’s going to “fix” Othello? Several of us pondered where Desdemona would even go if she did leave – her father is dead (although that isn’t mentioned until the last scene, there is an enormous rift, regardless), she’s never been on her own, she’s quite young, and she’s quite dependent. She really has no options.

What is Emilia doing in this scene? We know she’s trying to make Desdemona feel better. We’re still debating how much she knows of what’s really going on with Othello. We also debated her monologue toward the end of the scene about what motivates women to cheat on their husbands, and whether they are justified. Some of us think she’s fishing to see if there is any chance that Desdemona was unfaithful. Some of us think she’s trying to lighten the mood. Others believe that she’s venting that even if Desdemona had cheated, it wouldn’t be a reason to abuse her – and some of us think that, in a way, Emilia is talking about herself.

We then read and discussed Act V Scene I, in which Roderigo and Cassio fight, and Iago kills Roderigo. We talked about the chaos of the scene – the darkness in which it takes place, and about Iago’s actions more than anyone else’s. “Oh, he’s awesome in this scene,” said one woman, speaking of the way in which he handles a result he didn’t anticipate – killing Roderigo and casting suspicion for Cassio’s injury on Bianca.

And what about that murder? “Well, he kinda had to kill Roderigo,” said one woman, noting that if Roderigo lived he would almost certainly expose the whole plot. “The tension and desperation are coming to a head, you guys,” said another. “Do you realize this is the first time Iago’s actually doing his own dirty work?”

It was an invigorating conversation. Despite the heaviness of the material and its parallels to some of the women’s own lives, we are approaching it (at this point, anyway) in a way that is more intellectual than emotional, and it’s enabling us to have a lot of fun. We are really enjoying delving in and analyzing it. It’s a great foundation to have for when we get up on our feet with it… which will be soon!

Friday

After our check in, we dove into Act V Scene II, which is long, intense, and ends the play.

After reading Othello’s first monologue, we paused to talk about his mental/emotional state. Some hear a belief that he’s saving Desdemona, others think it’s really all about him. He sounds spent and exhausted. He seems to believe he’s so far in that there’s no going back. “The language here is flowery. It’s like she fell from grace,” said one woman. “Maybe he’s not just talking about putting out her light,” said another. “She’s the light of his life, and he’s also extinguishing that – his own light.”

We then read through the section that ends with Desdemona’s smothering. “Man, he didn’t even let her talk,” said one woman when we paused. “I’ve been Desdemona, felt those hands around my throat – when they’re at that point, there’s no stopping them,” one woman shared.

I thanked her for sharing something so personal, and then there was a brief silence. “What does the language tell us about the scene?” I asked. It’s fast, disjointed, chaotic, and fragmented, various women suggested. “The thing is,” I said, “She does get some language out, even though she’s constantly interrupted. What’s going on here?”

“Mentally he’s not there anymore,” said one woman. “He’s there, but he’s not there. After he smothers her, he may come back. I call it ‘zoning out.’ You can do a lot of things when you zone out. And then you come back.”

“What would have happened if he delayed for a half hour, like she asks him to?” asked Kyle. “Maybe he wants to do it quick because he feels like he needs to do it,” said one woman. “If he gives it the time, he might not act,” added another. “He thinks she’s still lying,” said another member, “and it makes him angrier.”

We finished reading the scene. I asked the group how they felt about Othello’s final speeches. “He fell into a trap. And it could happen to the best of us,” said one woman. “It does happen to the best of us – we’re all here, aren’t we?” responded another, “But we’re still responsible for our actions. I can feel grief for him, but I’m still pissed at him.”

“I can’t feel sorry for him,” said another woman. “He could have chosen differently at so many points, or investigated more. He had more than one opportunity.”

“I don’t feel sorry for him, but I definitely empathize with him,” said another member. “Can we have empathy for Othello without feeling sorry for him?” I asked the group. “What does that mean, empathy?”

“It means you can put yourself in that person’s position,” said one woman. “It means you can see their perspective.”

“I feel like, being in prison, we’re experts in empathy,” said another. “We all have empathy for each other, for everyone here, just about.”

One woman said that she was fascinated by the idea that “women undid both of these men.” “Did they?” responded Kyle. “Both of these men killed their wives.” We talked more and concluded that, if we refine this idea, we can see that the true crux is a lack of understanding that Othello and Iago have of women – that they turn out to have the same weakness in the end.

Why does Iago, who talks and talks and talks throughout the play, go silent when asked to explain himself? Especially given Shakespeare’s propensity to give his “villains” a last speech to clarify their motives or express a longing for redemption. We thought about that. “Does Iago get what he wanted?” asked Kyle.

“Totally – he got people’s lives ruined, so he got what he wanted,” said one woman. “He didn’t want his own life ruined, though. He has no power in the end. Nothing good came out of this for him. He’s no better than Othello in peoples’ minds, and he cares a lot about what other people think of him,” another responded.

“I think he wanted to be Othello. So no,” said another woman. “He hurt a lot of people… He’s in the balance somewhere,” said another.

We were out of time then, but we are very excited to start to explore these scenes on their feet. Many people are eager to read for different characters, and this is where we’ll begin to think about where people fit in terms of casting, even as we continue to explore the play’s themes.

Session Five: Week 9

Friday

Written by Kyle

Today was my first session back after having been out of town. The ensemble members were all quick to ask about the trip, eager to hear about what I had done, and just about everyone welcomed me back.

After a warm-up and some theatre games, the group had a discussion about where we thought we might set our production of Othello. We wanted to get an idea of what was on their minds so we could take advantage of the post-Halloween sales and get some costumes if at all possible. The discussion was slow to start but, like most discussions with our group, became involved and impassioned once we got going. The conversation at first was focused on the possibilities prompted by the question: what could be? Everything from cavemen, Scotland, in a prison, disco and outer space were suggested, and we were having fun linking Othello’s characters into a Star Wars parody.

Then the conversation evolved into more about what should be? What is the story that we are trying to tell? What is a better demonstration of Shakespeare’s timelessness: our ability to set his text in any time period, or the ability of the audience to relate to an Elizabethan text set in the period assigned by Shakespeare? It’s a toss up, and certainly a conversation that the professional theatre has had for years. I noted that keeping it in period can be difficult to source authentic looking costumes and props; whereas updating can be difficult because things like sword fighting and monarchies have a difficult translation in a more modern era.

However, a gauntlet was thrown early, with one of the newer ensemble members stating very directly that she thought that updating the setting “took the focus off the story… [keeping it as is] simplifies the message and we shouldn’t mess with it.” Many agreed, and it seemed like it was almost unanimous. I brought up that we could make our own world and set it in the world of ‘our play,’ and not set it anywhere specific. We could make up our own world, or keep it nondescript.

Many found this interesting, although we didn’t discuss it too long before moving on to the last stage of any conceptual consideration: what can we realistically do? It was kind of amazing the shape that the discussion took. Very similar to how I would approach it myself with any other production I’ve directed. The point was raised that we should think about who our audience was going to be and what would be the most effective for them; furthermore, consideration should be given to what would most likely be approved to by the facility’s administration. All these were valid concerns and foundational to the creation of a conceptual framework for our piece.

I concluded by saying that no decision needed to be made right then and there, that we needed to decide what story we wanted to tell before we could really decide just how it would be told. I am always impressed, though, by how deliberately the group wrestles with the questions of what makes art, and just how in step the ensemble is with my own process.

We only read one scene tonight, Act IV Scene ii; granted, it is longer scene, but it prompted such a rich debate that we couldn’t move on. Although Othello’s words towards Desdemona were powerful, the first discussion centered on Emilia and whether she knows Iago’s plan or not. Why would she be complicit with his plan if she does? Why would she give him the handkerchief? What about Iago’s emotional manipulation of her? Many said they were married to or had been involved with a man like Iago, and that many of Iago’s lines were not very nice until she gave him the handkerchief, when he showered her with praise. This kind of deliberate withholding of praise and affection was a potent dynamic in many of the ensemble’s past relationships, and many said they could understand her wanting to make him happy despite it betraying her own values.

As usual, though, the conversation was clouded by the impending murder: was Othello insane at this point? Had he reached his breaking point? Had he turned a corner from which he could not return? The quote that stuck out to me was, “We didn’t get here by being saints. How many of us are here from a 10-second crime?” Is he going to be defined by that decision? Someone brought up that after Othello’s seizure, he had passed a point of no return. I asked what the last sane decision that we saw Othello make might be. One member responded that the promotion of Iago to his lieutenant was the last decision he made, and that every decision since has been made for him.

The same ensemble member refuted herself, though, and brought up that the murder is premeditated. He is thinking about it, talking about it, and going to do it. There is no way around the fact that he kills Desdemona, that he kills her intentionally, and that he’s guilty. This was a very resonant remark, and one that just about everyone in the ensemble seemed to weigh in on. Is he a bad person, then? Many said that it a show of remorse means that Othello is not a bad person; some said that one’s previous actions are not what define them, people can change, etc.

I asked if we could extend the same redemption to Iago. What was Iago’s breaking point? When did he stop making decisions? Can he change with the right intentions? One woman said that Iago was the person in the play with whom she identified most. “Maybe I’m more evil than everyone else here, but I used to do this kind of stuff.” She went on to say that she thought she could change and was working on it. We could have talked all night. We sped through the last little part of the scene just for the sake of finishing; I for one felt, and hope, that we are far from finished with the discussion.

Session Five: Week 8

Tuesday

Tonight we read and discussed Act III Scene IV, in which Desdemona and Emilia first witness the change in Othello, Cassio pleads with Desdemona, and Cassio gives the handkerchief he found to Bianca to copy.

As spectators, we cannot help but cringe as Desdemona unwittingly confirms the suspicions that Iago has planted in Othello’s mind. Why does she respond the way she does, by lying about having misplaced the handkerchief and continuing her quest to get Cassio’s job back? “If you haven’t done anything, you’re not even thinking about it,” said one woman. Why would she be anything but innocent at this point? She has no idea how loaded this handkerchief and the Cassio issue have become.

“She’s committed,” said another ensemble member. “She’s gone against her father, she’s gone with [Othello] to war… Once you’re so far in, you’re like, ‘I’ve put so much into it, I have to keep going.’”

There were audible reactions when we read Emilia’s comment after Othello’s exit:

‘Tis not a year or two shows us a man.

They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;

They eat us hungerly, and when they are full,

They belch us.

It’s a feeling with which many of us are familiar. “They use you, abuse you, and then lose you,” said one person.

We talked at length about Emilia’s culpability in what happens, abused wife or not. How much does she suspect about Iago’s plot? Many ensemble members concluded that it doesn’t matter how much she knows – she clearly feels remorse for stealing the handkerchief, and she witnesses that theft’s impact on Othello’s and Desdemona’s relationship, even if she knows nothing else. “This is exactly like Romeo and Juliet,” said a longtime ensemble member. “All of those people – she can make things right at any moment and doesn’t.”

Since the next scene is quite lengthy, we spent the remainder of our time on an improv game. Although we’ve talked about the idea that improv doesn’t have to be funny, and often can be very serious, we do tend toward being silly in our games – working with such heavy material as Othello, we need some lightness. The game was going well – we were having a lot of fun – when some subject matter came up that seemed innocuous to most but deeply upset one of the women who was on stage. “No,” she said, knowing well the rule of saying yes in improv, “I have to say no to this.” We stopped that part of the game, and as she staying on stage, I watched her closely to see if I needed to stop the exercise. She finished, and then began gathering her things. “Are you okay?” I asked quietly. “Yes,” she said, “But I have to leave now.” Two of her friends who are in the group gave me reassuring looks and escorted her out, leaving the rest of the group puzzled and concerned.

“What just happened?” asked one woman. “Something came up in the exercise that upset her,” said another.

“Yes,” I said, “And I think we can take a couple of things out of this. One is that, if one of us says ‘no’ on stage or stops an exercise, we stop it right there, no questions asked. The other is that we all agreed weeks ago that if someone is upset and needs to leave the room, that’s okay, and we will respect her by allowing her to talk about it if she wants to and not asking questions if she doesn’t.”

The group still seemed uneasy. This is the first time this has happened this session, so it’s new territory for most of us. “Are we okay?” I asked. They responded that, yes, they were okay, just confused. We were out of time at that point, so we lifted our ring together and left for the day.

It was not an ideal way to end a meeting, but this is likely the first, not the only, time that someone needs a breather from whatever it is we’re doing. I think the shock of what happened is due to its occurring during a very silly game when we weren’t expecting any triggers, while we are all expecting to be upset (but safe and taking care of each other) while working on our play. It’s an important lesson that just about anything can be a trigger – we don’t know all of the circumstances of each others’ lives – and we need to take care of each other as an ensemble at all times.

Friday

When the ensemble member who left early on Tuesday arrived, I asked if I could speak with her privately. She smiled and said yes. I asked her first how she was doing, and she said that she was okay, it’s just a sensitive time for her, and it took her by surprise that the game took such a turn. I asked her if there was anything that I or the group could have done to handle the situation better, and she said no, she didn’t feel uncomfortable with what happened at all. I reiterated what I had said to the group after she left so she would know that she was returning to a safe space. She seemed at ease with things.

After our warm up, another ensemble member asked if we should consider making some topics “off limits” in improv to spare people’s feelings. She mentioned the specific topic that upset the woman who left early on Tuesday. The group seemed not to know how to respond, so I first thanked her for the concern and sensitivity that led her to make the suggestion, and then said that my opinion is that we should not censor what we’re doing beyond complying with prison policy – that we are working with a play that brings up all sorts of things that may upset us, and that we need to feel secure in taking care of one another and maintaining a safe space. “I’m just worried that people will get so upset they won’t want to come back,” she said. “I appreciate that,” I replied, “But I think we handled things well last time, and I believe we’ll continue to handle them well going forward.” I asked the group whether they agreed or wanted to discuss further, and they were in agreement with me, so we moved on.

We took some time to play a goofy game – we needed to lighten up! This proved to be a significant relief, and we were all refreshed when we circled up to read through Act IV Scene I - a very ugly scene in which Iago further manipulates Othello to the point that he beats Desdemona in front of others. It’s upsetting material no matter what your life experiences have been, and many in our ensemble have experienced similar situations firsthand.

One ensemble member, her voice trembling, said, “I really dislike the way Shakespeare has taken this put-together, articulate, respected man – and then he’s so easily taken in.” We revisited this idea that we all have at least one major weakness, and this play upsets us because we know how fragile we all are – we all have the potential to become Othello.

Another woman cannot get over how easily things go for Iago at this point in the play. “Iago does have this planned out very well, but he doesn’t have to work for it – it all just falls into place.” We talked about the things that Iago plans, and the things that happen by chance, providing him opportunities to take advantage. This is maddening to us as well.

Why, when Othello says that he will poison Desdemona, does Iago push him to strangle her instead? “It’s more personal,” said one woman. You can disconnect from poisoning, she said, “But when you’re strangling someone, you have to look them in the eye.” Another woman said that this is Iago’s way of driving Othello completely over the edge – he doesn’t just want him to suffer, he wants to destroy him.

“What does he have against Desdemona?” asked one woman. Several of our ensemble members have a theory that Iago is gay – that he may not even be conscious of being gay, but that his attachment to Othello results in overpowering jealousy of Desdemona. Others agree that he is jealous of Desdemona, but think it’s more of a “power thing” – he says, “The general’s wife is now the general,” and some of us think that he can’t stand the idea that anyone has more sway over Othello than him – so Cassio and Desdemona have to go, too.

“Once you hit a certain level of rage, it’s uncontrollable. You want everyone to feel the hurt you feel,” said one ensemble member, talking about both Iago and Othello.

After we read the part of the scene when Othello beats Desdemona, a few women expressed surprise that none of the other men on stage intervene to protect her. We discussed how sometimes when people are shocked, they freeze; I also mentioned that there have been studies showing that people are less likely to take action if there are a number of people witnessing the same crime. We also discussed the fact that there’s not much stage direction from Shakespeare here – it’s possible that we could stage this so that people do intervene.

Once we had read the whole scene, our discussion took an even more personal tone, as we brought our experiences to bear on our interpretation of this story. We find the play so terribly tragic because it rings so true.

“This play makes me not want to trust anyone,” said one person. “It makes me want to be celibate,” said another. “No,” said another woman, “Every relationship needs good communication. Othello never talks to Desdemona or Cassio about any of this.”

Does Othello have PTSD, we wondered? Is this the trauma that breaks him? “Every other area of your life can be going smoothly, and one little thing drives you crazy,” said one woman.

This, said another ensemble member, is how men are. “They hold themselves together so well when they think they’re in control, but when they lose control they’re a mess.” The ensemble responded strongly that this is not specific to men – “it’s a people thing.”

We all have the potential to be any of these characters, and as we progress further into the story, that is hitting home more and more. Our discussions get deeper and deeper. “I get why they [prison staff] want us to take this class,” remarked one woman, “I keep seeing myself in this play. I’m learning so much.”

Session Five: Week 7

Tuesday

We began reading and discussing Act III tonight with such gusto that we actually never stopped to play a game!

As we read, we pondered why Cassio doesn’t just listen to Emilia and Desdemona when they tell him that Othello is going to bring him back into his job – that he has to keep a “politic difference” because of Montano’s status, but not to fear anything long term. They tell him this repeatedly, but he makes a choice to continue to trust Iago, who does not give him information directly from their boss. The ensemble explored not only the relationship between the men – the trust forged in battle – but Cassio’s agony over his mistake, his lack of sleep, and the possibility that he is still drunk or hungover from the night before. All of these things may cloud his ability to make the right decision.

We also talked more about Iago – he’s got Cassio’s job now, and yet he keeps going. One woman said that once your pride is hurt badly enough, there is nothing that can quench your thirst for revenge – that he feels he has the moral high ground, and what happens is everyone else’s fault. “He’s got a victim mentality,” she said. “The more justified you feel, the angrier you get,” said another woman.

“He was passed up for a position he deserved, and it’s okay to be angry about it,” said a longtime ensemble member. “But he takes it too far,” said another. The first person replied, “I don’t know if he meant it to go this far – if he meant for someone to die.” Another said, “It doesn’t matter – every choice leads to something. All the choices we made led us here.”

We decided to table the discussion till we’ve read more. Because of the theme that is emerging of duality in this play, the ensemble is currently questioning everyone’s motives – we even began to question whether Desdemona means what she says, although I think the more we read of her, the less we’ll question her. I reminded the group that, prior to this act, we haven’t heard much at all from Desdemona or Emilia, and we’re likely to know them a lot better the deeper we get. At this point, some members of the group feel Desdemona’s motives are pure and from a place of friendship and/or interest in Othello’s wellbeing (she knows Cassio has his back), but others aren’t so sure.

Then we started in on Act III, Scene III, which is long and intense, and intensely interesting. Our excitement grew the more we read – this group is really in love with the language, and many gasped audibly or laughed in appreciation at Iago’s skillful manipulation of Othello – how upset he make Othello without having actually said anything of substance. Some women spoke of having manipulated others in this way, i.e., “Are you going to wear your hair like that?” Others spoke of recognizing this kind of behavior in others from their lives.

“He’s manipulating – he’s playing a game,” said one woman. “He’s planting a seed,” said another. One woman said she felt sorry for Othello as he began to lose his composure.

I hearkened back to one woman’s likening of Iago to a chess master several weeks back – of being someone who is thinking far ahead but remaining open to opportunity so he can react to his opponent’s moves.

That same woman likened Iago to Loki, the god of mischief. She strongly feels that, while he means harm, he doesn’t mean for things to go as far as they do.

We ran out of time before we got to the end of the scene, and as we put our ring back up, one woman said, “This was AWESOME tonight.”

Friday

We launched right back into Act III, Scene III, tonight after a quick recap for someone who was absent on Tuesday. We took our time breaking down Othello’s soliloquy after Iago’s exit, which contains a fairly complicated metaphor. We noted that he immediately leaps to faults in himself rather than faults in Desdemona to explain her unfaithfulness – that many people besides Iago have primed him for this.

Following our reading of the section when Desdemona drops her handkerchief and Emilia gives it to Iago, one member of the group asked if we thought Emilia was in on the plot. Another stated pretty adamantly that she seems like a battered wife. “If she was thinking, she’d think this was sketchy, but at this point she’s so broken she’s not thinking,” she said. We did note that she seems to feel remorse the moment she actually hand the handkerchief to her husband.

We made our way through the remainder of the scene – Othello’s rage and Iago’s continued and masterful manipulation of him. “This is one of our big challenges,” I said to the group. “We need to really understand what makes Othello go from one extreme to the other so quickly. Many productions break this scene up, but Shakespeare wrote it to be played in real time, and we need to keep that in mind. How do we find the truth in that? And, likewise, we need to keep in mind that, no matter how dark Iago’s intentions, all of these people trust him.”

“This is just life,” said one woman. “Iago’s basically tapping into Othello’s one major weakness,” said another. She spoke of his insecurity, doubt, and lack of control. “He trusted one person, gave away his heart, and she betrayed him.”

“Iago has been jealous of Othello his whole life, and now’s his opportunity,” said another. Another woman brought up that Othello’s insecurities may be rooted in the cultural and class differences between him and all of the people he deals with.

Then one woman said that, if she were playing Iago, she’d want to walk around pretending to be him all day – that she’d want to fully inhabit him 24-7 as a way of truthfully telling his story. This led to a pretty animated conversation about how that method of acting, while it can make for great artistic effect, lends itself to great personal risk (ensemble members brought up Heath Ledger as an example). Although our group is not an acting class, I felt it was important in this moment to explain the difference between safe and unsafe methods of acting, since this group is already diving much deeper into the material than past ensembles and is likely to continue to do so. This material is rich and intellectually stimulating, but it is also raw and emotional, and many ensemble members can personally relate to what some of the characters go through. It is of the utmost importance that our exploration and storytelling remain safe – that we continue to draw on our personal experiences to learn about the play (and thus gain new perspective on our stories), but that we not re-live past trauma of our own while trying to tell these characters’ stories.

As always with this program, I go where the group leads me. If we are going to get a bit into acting technique as a means of safe storytelling, then that’s where we’re going. We will maintain our emphasis on process rather than performance; on gaining empathy and knowledge rather than on becoming Actors with a Capital A. We will continue to take care of each other.