“Theatre is a political act, a debate of our times.”
By Eric George Tauber
SAN DIEGO — In Theatre History class, I had read about Ira Aldridge, the first African-American to earn fame as a Shakespearean actor. On a tour of Europe, Aldridge made such an impression on Georg II, the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen, that he received a knighthood. Sadly, these same Saxons who once honored Aldridge would later denounce jazz in Nazi propaganda as “the work of pernicious Jews infected with primitive Negro rhythms”.
While my textbook book enumerated some facts of Aldridge’s career, it gave no real sense of the drama behind his story. So I was eager to see it played out at the Old Globe’s production of Red Velvet.
Scenic Designer Jason Sherwood brings us into the world of Ira Aldredge with a rotating proscenium arch that speaks of faded glory, which -like our memories- has missing fragments. An elegant crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling contrasted by an exposed brick wall with belayed lines hanging on a fly rail.
Halina is a cub reporter who has snuck into the dressing room in search of an exclusive. Aldridge is in the twilight of his career, quite full of himself and none too kind. Thus, Lynn Shankel’s haunting music takes us back in time to Aldridge’s stage debut in Covent Garden…
In 1833, slavery was abolished in the British Empire. While it didn’t take a Civil War, it was not without controversy. Bernard Warde (Mark Pinter) is a traditionalist arguing that slavery is the backbone of the economy whereas Henry Forrester (Michael Aurelio) is a wide-eyed idealist who champions the rights of all people.
Just as women’s roles were always played by men in drag until 1662, Othello was always played by white men in blackface. But when Edmund Kean is simply too ill to appear on stage, a replacement must be found…
“That Negro is a Negro!”
When Ira Aldridge makes his entrance, the stunned silence is priceless. Nothing new to him, Aldridge bears it with grace. It’s awkward, but most remain civil. Aldridge gets them to break with convention by having the actors talk to each other instead of declaiming to the audience. There is palpable chemistry between Aldridge and his Desdemona, Ellen Tree, making everyone uncomfortable and eliciting a gasp when he kisses her hand.
Only Charles Kean, Edmund’s talentless hack of a son, is openly hostile. John Lavelle was hilarious doing his best-worst Iago with exaggerated gesticulations and ridiculous poses.
Allison Mack is compelling as Ellen Tree. She can’t be too obvious in her flirtations, but a blind man could see the smoldering fire in her looks. Albert Jones is passionate as Ira Aldridge. A man with great talent and deep flaws, he elicits our admiration even as our hearts break with his.
Hats off to Monique Gaffney who plays Connie, the Jamaican servant who keeps to the shadows. Her survival depends on her silence and invisibility, but her eyes betray a mind at work. Only when she’s alone with Aldredge does she give vent to a powerful voice.
Ira Aldridge was the first actor not to play Othello in blackface. While audiences of the day were ebullient, critics were apalled, calling it “monstrous.” Nowadays, a white actor playing against type would be controversial. Blackface would elicit gasps of horror and jeers.
So what makes Red Velvet relevant today? At its core, it’s about being threatened by change, about a hostility born of fear that “the other” will take away what is ours. And in our current political climate, nothing could be more timely.
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Tauber is a freelance writer specializing in the coverage of the arts. He may be contacted via eric.tauber@sdjewishworld.com
I couldn’t understand many of the actors. Hardly a word of the Polish reporter was inntelligible. The fake accents and lack of good clear voice projection made it a disappointment. Thumbs down!