This past weekend, I attended a famed Shakespearean festival in my home state for the first time in my life. This festival has been around for more than 50 years. Now that I have finally had this experience, I ask myself in full sincerity, "How has it taken me this long to come to this incredible event?" I am now a convert and will definitely be coming again.
A group of good friends and I saw two plays — written by William Shakespeare, of course: "The Merchant of Venice" on Friday, and "Othello" the following Monday. I thoroughly enjoyed both, but was immensely impacted by "Othello," in particular. If I had a "Top 3 Darkest Shows I've Ever Seen In My Entire Life" list — whether the items be from TV, film, or live theatre — "Othello" would for sure be in it, no question. And I have ALWAYS been anti any plot in which nothing good ever happens. I've seen a few shows and read a few books like that and I hated every last one of them. But "Othello"? Different story. I was hooked from the very beginning and, even though my gut was uncomfortably wrenching for basically the entire performance, I was still completely captivated and in a constant state of utter inability to patiently wait to see what was going to happen next (I was not acquainted with the story aforehand, so everything was new to me).
After the matinee showing of "Othello," my friends and I went out to dinner. On the way to dinner, one of my friends mentioned how she was actually uplifted by such a tragic tale. I really think I understand where she was coming from when she said that; for I, too, was reminded of everything I should be, as a person, that is total opposite of everything that makes up the personality and deeds of the main character and loathsome villain of the "Othello" story: Iago.
In this adaptation, Iago was portrayed by a man named Brian Vaughn. Stellar actor (as well as artistic director of the entire festival, I found out) who pulled off the part so well, in fact, that it made my skin crawl almost literally. Honestly felt like my nerves were getting knocked around to-and-fro inside my body. I still have some shakes from it, two whole days later. And it wasn't just Brian; it was the combined chemistry of all the actors on that stage, for the duration of the play. The interweaving of the actors engaging in conversation and stage fights and what-have-you... Everything built upon each other, and the water had gotten so high that, by the end of it all, I was swimming up to my neck in tension. The room was fraught with anxiety that I bet almost everyone present could sense. We were all aware that none of it was real, but it sure felt real at many parts.
Back to Iago. Hence the play's title, Othello does play a major role from which I also learned some important life lessons, but the "Othello" world revolves primarily around Iago. Part of what made this show frankly quite scary was that Iago reminded me so much of what I've learned about who the devil is, that vilest scoundrel of an adversary who is as very real as God is, who is as very interested in my daily life as God is, but in the worst possible way, while God is interested in the best possible way. Being seated in that small, intimate theatre was like being in a schoolroom in which I could become better educated in the area of who my worst enemy actually is, and how he works, while thankfully still being snug as a bug in a safe space, surrounded by really good people — some who were my fellow classmates, some who were my teachers.
Who was Iago? What did he do that was so bad? I scribbled out a huge list on a scrap of paper. Some traits include his covetousness, his lustfulness, his unquenchable thirst for revenge, his unabashed demonstrations of racism, his love for beguiling, his zeal for lying, his flagrant lack of integrity, his devoidance (yes, I just transformed "devoid" into a noun) of virtue, his ability to see virtue in another person and yet still have the unfortunate fetish of twisting that virtue into something negative. Whenever he was alone, he confessed openly the evil schemes and dark things he thought about everyone. But when he rejoined with his associates, even with his own wife, he donned his sheep's clothing and manipulated away. He was a handsome face (so sue me), and was someone whom a lot of people trusted for a long time. This point, in particular, reminded me of how the devil tries to make ungodly temptations appear nice and desirable. He twists that which is good into something that's the antithesis of good.
Back to the lunch I had with my friends after the matinee. Another one of my friends brought up, as we sat consuming our family-style Chinese, the fact that a certain religious figure we all admired had given an address back in the year 2000, where he said, "Of all the villains in Shakespeare's writing, and perhaps in all of literature, there is no one I loathe so much as I loathe Iago." (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles)
The religious figure went on to say that Iago is an example of what it means to violate the charitable qualities of the pure love of Jesus Christ, as taught in Moroni 7 (The Book of Mormon) and 1 Corinthians 13 (The Holy Bible). "Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth." Iago was none of these things, did none of these things.
I had realized halfway through the performance, at intermission time, that I was sitting immediately next to the parents of the lady who played Desdemona (Betsy Mugavero). They were pretty neat people and I was happy to make their acquaintances. It was fun to sneak a side-eye at them to see what their reactions were to the more intense scenes that involved their daughter's character. During intermission they told me that Betsy and Brian (Iago) had a really close and special friendship in real life. Brian attended Betsy's wedding fairly recently. So, with that new knowledge in mind, which I did not have during the first half of the play, pre-intermission, I kept a close eye on any Iago/Desdemona interactions that occurred on-stage during the second half. I kept a close eye on those two real-life friends as they were in their thespian elements with one another.
There was one specific scene where Desdemona confided some of her deep, personal feelings in Iago. As she was about to exit stage, she hugged Iago in a most meaningful manner, believing him to be her true friend. I physically was approximately 10 feet away from the two, and had a clear view of Iago's face as she ran off post-embrace. I saw his eyes follow her as she left, and I was impressed by his countenance. I detected a minor spark of hope within me when I saw what I saw on his face. His countenance looked softened a little, after his having had that moment with the innocent Desdemona. I saw him perhaps contemplating what his current plans were, perhaps questioning himself, as to whether he really should continue forth with the vicious plot he was brewing. Again, I wasn't already familiar with the "Othello" story prior to coming to the festival to see the play. Therefore my tiny, tiny, tiny bit of faith in Iago was pretty legitimate (albeit short-lived) and it upset me when I realized that my faith in him was in vain, when I realized that he was going to follow through with his plan to destroy lives anyway, figuratively and literally.
And ultimately, for Iago, it does not end well. His countenance in the final scene was grim, full of guilt, and possibly remorseful. I was reminded strikingly of another part in The Book of Mormon where it says, "And there are also secret combinations, even as in times of old, according to the combinations of the devil, for he is the founder of all these things; yea, the founder of murder, and works of darkness; yea, and he leadeth them by the neck with a flaxen cord, until he bindeth them with his strong cords forever." Iago let himself bond closer and closer with the founder of darkness. He had the chance to change his mind and forgo his cruel projects. I think he thought about it. That's what it looked like to me. But he shoved aside "the better angels of [his] nature," as Abraham Lincoln would've put it (Elder Holland quotes that in his talk too), and let his shoulder-devil take control. Lesson learned from this: we need to encourage within ourselves our shoulder-angels. If there are temptations we face that we know are wrong, no matter how appealing they may appear, we need to think better and do better.
And something that I learned from the titular character Othello: work hard at not listening to a word the adversary says to you. Don't entertain the pessimistic or unkind notions he may attempt to persuade you to believe about yourself. Don't assume that the people you love are eager to harm you. As the aforementioned religious figure also advised, "Assume the good and doubt the bad" in others. Be kind to others as well as to yourself. Have charity. "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth."
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