Harvard’s Take on “Othello”

In Harvard College’s “Othello,” produced by Hyperion Shakespeare Company, power is visible before anyone explains it. The opening scene begins with Roderigo (River Wynne ’30) rowing a boat while Iago (George Atkin ’28) sits upright beside him, holding himself above the man doing all of the work. Against ominous music, designed by Brian Hawkins ’30, the imbalance is immediate and grows increasingly physical as the play unfolds.

Presented Oct. 15 to 18 at the Agassiz Theater, the production, directed by Nike Okafor ’27, marked HSC’s official return to campus after a three-year hiatus from live theatrical productions; the group paused due to financial and organizational crises that left it struggling with internal structure and funding. The play explores betrayal, racial prejudice, and insecurity; it follows Othello (Siza Gule ’30), a military general whose marriage to Desdemona (Milena Manocchia ’28) Iago undermines by exploiting Othello’s insecurities to provoke jealousy.

Leaders of “Othello” applied this intricate plot to their pre-production strategies for the cast and crew.

“How can I make it such that [the actors] embody their roles, but embody their roles in a way that doesn’t fall into tropes and like falls into clichés, and also that opens dialogue and communication for the general community and public,” Director Nike Okafor ’27 said in an interview with the “Independent.”

An Overview

Shakespeare based “Othello’s” plot on a 1565 Italian prose novella, “Un Capitano Moro,” by Giovanni Battista Giraldi. Shakespeare wrote “Othello” in the Jacobean Era, from 1603 to 1604, setting the tragedy against the backdrop of the Venetian-Turkish Wars.

“Othello” begins in Venice, a lucrative trade hub at the time. The play later shifts to Cyprus, a Venetian military outpost threatened by the Ottoman Empire.

Throughout the play, Othello is commonly referred to as a “Moor,” which was a term loosely used in Elizabethan times to denote people of North African descent, Muslim faith, or dark complexion. The juxtaposition of black-and-white imagery runs throughout the play and marks the difference between Othello and his white European peers. Although Othello’s racial differences are heavily alluded to, he is still seen as a noble figure of great authority, respected and admired by those around him.

Act 1: Brabantio’s Worst Nightmare

Roderigo and Iago remain at the center of the stage as Brabantio (Henry Aronofsky ’28) stumbles out of his house wearing nothing but a nightgown and a hat that weirdly resembles Santa Claus’s, designed by Sam Park ’29.

The stage lights dim, arranged by Clare Cho ’30 and Sadie Polk ’30, and the scene shifts to senators gathering to discuss the Turkish fleet. The Senate pokes fun at Brabantio, who stands as far from Othello as possible, underscoring their tension. As Desdemona enters, her face lights up, and she and Othello embrace (escalating into an intense makeout session). Their physical closeness makes their love feel genuine. Othello gently holds her hands and never takes his eyes off her. If you didn’t know the rest of the play, you would probably be jealous of how cute they are.

The play quickly flips to Roderigo, whose despair offers a comic counterpoint to Othello and Desdemona’s affection. The audience laughs throughout this scene; Roderigo perfectly captures despair and says he will “drown himself,” while Iago tries to comfort him by advising him to get rich instead.

The spotlight shifts to Iago, and the stage lights turn red, creating an almost theatrical villainy. I personally found Iago’s manipulative rants to the audience more comedic than genuinely sinister. Although he spoke of ruining Othello’s marriage and deceiving Roderigo and Cassio, Iago’s tone and manner made him seem more playful than evil. He gestures dramatically to the audience, while stereotypical horror music plays in the background, making it seem as though the production itself isn’t taking Iago seriously.

Act 2: The Worst Happy Hour Ever

After a storm destroys the Turkish fleet, folk music and drunken antics fill the stage, establishing a warm, comedic atmosphere. The characters gather around in an energetic dance. In this scene, Iago and Emilia (Elianna Carvalho ’29), a married couple, make their affection for each other apparent: they dance at the center of the stage and cannot keep smiles off their faces. They also joke together offstage—a natural relationship built through an intentional rehearsal process.

“In terms of navigating the relationship with Iago, we’ve probably changed that appearance throughout the entirety of the rehearsal process. Where at first Iago was a little meaner to her, but then that changed because there still needed to be a justification for why [Emilia] cares so much for him,” Carvalho said to the “Independent.”

That affection makes Iago’s later treatment of Emilia more unsettling. His behavior toward Cassio (Corvus Chanoine ’30) also resists a straightforward portrayal of him as simply evil. After Iago tries to pressure Cassio into getting drunk and a brawl breaks out, Iago seems genuinely concerned as he tries to comfort him. He looks at him endearingly and tries to make him feel better about being a drunkard.

“A lot of people play him as just evil, but that’s not it. That’s not the extent of him. There’s a reason why he wants Othello to be destroyed,” Atkin added, emphasizing unseen traits of his character.

I found myself seeing more than just Iago’s evil side during the play. By the end, I realized I didn’t have many negative feelings toward him. His initial relationship with Emilia, his comedic moments with Roderigo, and his apparent momentary concern for Cassio made him more likable than I expected. He would occasionally break into a genuine smile or laugh, and I found those moments almost heartwarming, making it difficult to reconcile his charm with the cruelty of his plan toward Othello.

Act 3: The Handkerchief of Doom

The last time we see Othello act grounded is when he and Iago work on letters to send to the Venetian state. They initially sit far apart in identical chairs, with Iago mimicking Othello’s posture. Iago begins to plant seeds of suspicion in Othello’s mind about infidelity between Desdemona and Cassio; the distance between them shrinks. Eventually, Iago stands behind Othello, almost like the devil on his shoulder. Iago now towers over Othello, representing the newfound power he has over him as he prompts his jealousy and insecurity to take over.

Othello reveals his detachment from his body. Despite his love for Desdemona, he cannot control his jealousy and insecurity, which is embodied through his trembling hand.

“Act 3, Scene 3 specifically plays a really pivotal moment to, like, me displaying that insecurity to people, and that’s what I think will make everything sort of be understood by the audience at the points at which they can sort of like see that within me, like the sort of vulnerability before I even believe it to be true,” Gule explained.

Desdemona enters the stage and gives Othello her handkerchief to help soothe his headache. After Othello drops Desdemona’s handkerchief on the ground, Emilia anxiously runs over to pick it up to give to Iago. A major turning point in Iago and Emilia’s relationship follows. As Iago reaches for the handkerchief, Emilia kisses him, which he quickly wipes off. The play dramatizes the immediate shift in Emilia’s feelings towards Iago: her body composure immediately becomes more closed, and she looks down at the ground, avoiding further eye contact with Iago. She then lunges at Iago and tries to yank the handkerchief from his grasp, but is unsuccessful.

“I never asked myself why she doesn’t tell Desdemona about the handkerchief. That was actually a question Stephen Greenblatt (a Harvard English professor) posed to me, and it sort of changed the way I thought about Emilia,” Carvalho said.

Emilia was clearly in a difficult position throughout the play, torn between being a faithful wife and a good friend. During the handkerchief scene, Emilia and Iago had stood on opposite sides of the stage. She repeatedly glanced between Iago, Othello, and Desdemona, smiling when she saw the couple in love but continuously checking in on Iago, who never looked at her. Her pained expression made her divided loyalties apparent. Her two roles seemed impossible to reconcile, as her husband is determined to ruin both Othello and Desdemona’s lives.

I found Emilia’s denial about her husband believable; she clearly looked up to and respected him, which made it hard for her to see his cruelty. Her reluctance about telling Desdemona about the handkerchief also seemed understandable to me. Doing so would mean confronting not only her own misjudgment of Iago, but also the fact that she had unknowingly helped set the tragedy in motion, causing suffering to Othello and Desdemona, whom she clearly adores.

Act 4: The Culmination

In this act, Othello’s physical performance changes dramatically, and the audience sees the full extremity of his jealousy as his body seizes from emotional overload. During a conversation between Iago and Othello, Iago feeds Othello graphic, agonizing lies about Desdemona and Cassio. While Iago maintains composure and eye contact, Othello begins to pace erratically, breathing heavily, twitching, and eventually collapsing to the ground.

This scene illustrates jealousy as something physical: it becomes a loss of bodily control and a state that consumes Othello. The production emphasizes Othello’s inability to control his hand tremors.

“But the very essence of just, like, feeling that incredible sense of betrayal is something that I hope to convey in a way that is empathetic, so that the audience understands it,” Gule said.

After Othello snaps and physically strikes Desdemona, they embrace again at center stage, but their proximity is now threatening; Desdemona flinches at Othello’s touch, especially when he holds her face in his hands. While Othello yells at Desdemona and calls her filthy names, she maintains her posture, keeps her gaze level, and never backs down in her defense.

“I think it was really important for me to make sure that she wasn’t passive in that, because it’s in fact her struggle for justice that makes it so tragic. I think it’s so exciting that we, in the text, get to see her say, ‘I never did this. I was true,’” Manocchia explained.

“She explicitly has those opportunities to stand up for herself. So it was important for me to, I think, take that cue and do it in her justice, in terms of playing those lines and playing her as an individual, as someone who is self-possessed.”

When I read Othello, I saw Desdemona primarily as a victim. But in Harvard’s production, she is far from passive; I saw her as a confident, self-assured woman who did no wrong to anyone. She stands at eye level with Othello and draws herself closer to him rather than backing away. Her all-white outfit suggests a virginal, innocent side. Still, when I left the play, I thought of Desdemona not just as a victim of Othello’s jealousy, but as a woman who would not sacrifice her personal integrity to appease her husband.

Act 5: The Killing

The final act brings the production’s central contradiction into sharpest focus. Desdemona lies asleep on a bed center stage, surrounded by bright light. Othello enters the room and gently caresses Desdemona’s hair as he looks at her lovingly. The lighting turns red, and Othello begins to choke her, maintaining direct eye contact as he kills her. In this scene, Othello’s tenderness towards Desdemona exists alongside his violence towards her.

After Emilia reveals Desdemona’s innocence, he stumbles around the stage, holding his hand to his forehead, grasping at his clothing, and clutching his stomach. Before he kills himself, he makes his love for Desdemona apparent. He kneels on the ground, shaking and weeping over her. The physical hierarchy that once placed him above her dissolves: he comes down to her level and dies on the other side of her bed.

The production’s use of an uncut script, memorized in just three weeks, is ambitious. More importantly, its staging gives Shakespeare’s familiar tragedy a clear, physical language. The production weaves love, jealousy, betrayal, and insecurity into a compelling interpretation that complicates its characters and elicits multiple rounds of heavy laughter from the audience.

“I thought everyone would have approached this more stoically, but we’re laughing all the time. We’re making jokes. We’re making each other laugh,” Carvalho said. “It’s been such a fun experience.”

Anna Mogel ’30 (amogel@college.harvard.edu) finally understood a Shakespeare play.