The Merchant of Venice 1936 Review by Nina Jervis-Green

March 25, 2025

Thanks to Nina Jervis-Green from www.ninathewriter.com for this review.

Why 1936? This is the year when members of Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists planned a provocative paramilitary march through the East End of London – an area heavily populated by Jewish people – in their Blackshirt uniforms.

The march wasn’t stopped by the police, but an alliance of Jews, Catholics, Protestants, and atheists, who came together and set up barricades on Cable Street. ‘The Battle of Cable Street’, as it became known, is the political context in which this clever, bold reimagining of Shakespeare’s problem play is set.

We aren’t in gilded 16th century Venice now, that’s for sure. The dingy streets of London simmer with menace right from the start, as we witness Mosley’s rise to prominence via unsettling images and archival footage projected onto the back of the stage. Worse is sure to come.

We meet Tracy-Ann Oberman’s Jewish moneylender Shylock as she gathers her loved ones together in a Hebrew blessing – the characters all enter via the aisles, greeting the audience and bearing small glasses of wine. Through Oberman’s inspired and weighty performance we learn that Shylock is a single mother and a fighter, resilient yet vulnerable; a character formed whole from persecution.

Shylock is based on Oberman’s great-grandmother Annie, who herself had fled persecution in Belarus and settled in London, believing it to be a safe haven. This knowledge makes Shylock’s famous “Hath not a Jew eyes?” speech, an eloquent plea for tolerance, feel all the more visceral.

The play’s supporting characters are brilliantly contextualised, too. Antonio (a compelling performance from Joseph Millson) becomes a Blackshirt, his friends are Bullingdon Club-style toffs, and Portia (a witty, mesmerising Georgie Fellows) is a sardonic socialite in satin.

Shylock’s daughter Jessica is styled as a schoolgirl here, which makes her betrayal with Lorenzo later on feel a tiny bit uncomfortable – albeit still painfully effective. Evie Hargreaves stands out in the venomous role of Mary, Shylock’s turncoat servant who heartlessly mocks her former employer in the street, egged on by a racist policeman.

Adapted by Oberman and director Brigid Larmour, Shakespeare’s original script is heavily cut (Oberman has described the play as “short and punchy”). Some characters have changed, some lines have been given to others. But the story, in essence, remains the same: Antonio defaults on a large loan and Shylock demands her “pound of flesh” with devastating consequences.

The court scenes are particularly distressing, as a disguised Portia – who had previously provided some blessed moments of light relief – helps inflict merciless punishments on the now completely isolated Shylock. Her home is ransacked, boarded up and graffitied; there are screams and breaking glass as other Jewish- owned shops are targeted off-stage. The Blackshirts are on the rise.

The play’s ending, though moving and wonderful, felt like a shock, as we were taken swiftly from Shylock’s downfall to her East End neighbours’ rousing support during the Battle of Cable Street. I genuinely loved this moment, but I also wished there had been some sense of that support earlier on. Maybe it had only showed itself in that critical moment, when it was sorely needed.

Accessible and timely, The Merchant of Venice 1936 will introduce Shakespeare to new audiences, but it also tell us the real story of who we were – and implore us not to repeat our mistakes. Particularly in these troubling times, to say it’s well worth seeing is a given.