Two women, Portia and Nerissa, dress
as men and play the lawyer and the clerk, and save their husbands. Oh, the masques we wear.
The Merchant of Venice dabbles in
Shakespeare’s controversial stance on Semitism, teetering on that fine line of
wide-eyed shock for the post-Holocaust audience, and acknowledgment of an
Elizebethan world where Jews were considered alien and usurer. Bassanio challenges the nature of
loyalty – who is more important to him, his wife or his friend Antonio (bros
before hos?)? The bonds of marriage are strained, the rings given to the faux judge
and clerk (aka Portia and Nerissa in pants). Little does Bassanio realize that when he says “life itself,
my wife, and all the world/are not with me esteemed above thy life,” he has
just snubbed his wife while she stood by. An all knowing, albeit snarky, aside ensues.
Not just another male-dominated
play, The Merchant of Venice proved to elevate intelligent women and marriage
vows alike. One of my favourite
moments? When Portia and Nerissa
threaten to go and make the ‘lawyer’ and the ‘clerk’ their ‘bedfellows.’ Now that is leaping into a whole other
pool of sexual psychoanalysis.
P.S. ‘Portia’ has definitely been added to my list of baby
names for girls.
No comments:
Post a Comment