OTHELLO Review: A STORM OF SUBTLETY AND FURY
OTHELLO Review: A STORM OF SUBTLETY AND FURY
DAVID HAREWOOD RETURNS TO THE HELM OF THIS CLASSIC SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY.
DAVID HAREWOOD RETURNS TO THE HELM OF THIS CLASSIC SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY.
★★★★☆
★★★★☆
David Harewood’s return to Othello is reason enough for excitement, but this new production—directed by Tom Morris and featuring a chillingly magnetic Toby Jones, who offers far more than a nostalgic reunion between actor and role. It’s a sharply focused staging that leans into clarity over clutter, performance over spectacle, ultimately earning a confident four stars for its intelligence, precision, and arresting central duo.
David Harewood’s return to Othello is reason enough for excitement, but this new production—directed by Tom Morris and featuring a chillingly magnetic Toby Jones, who offers far more than a nostalgic reunion between actor and role. It’s a sharply focused staging that leans into clarity over clutter, performance over spectacle, ultimately earning a confident four stars for its intelligence, precision, and arresting central duo.
Harewood, stepping back into the role nearly three decades after becoming the first Black actor to play Othello at the National Theatre, wears the part with a maturity and emotional charge that go far beyond technical skill. His Othello is grounded, dignified, and palpably vulnerable, the kind of interpretation that makes the tragedy feel freshly devastating. You sense his history with the role in the smallest details—his stillness, his shifts in tempo, the way he listens before responding. It’s a portrayal shaped not only by experience, but by lived understanding.
Harewood, stepping back into the role nearly three decades after becoming the first Black actor to play Othello at the National Theatre, wears the part with a maturity and emotional charge that go far beyond technical skill. His Othello is grounded, dignified, and palpably vulnerable, the kind of interpretation that makes the tragedy feel freshly devastating. You sense his history with the role in the smallest details—his stillness, his shifts in tempo, the way he listens before responding. It’s a portrayal shaped not only by experience, but by lived understanding.
Yet even with Harewood’s commanding presence, the gravitational pull of the evening belongs unmistakably to Toby Jones. His Iago is not the blustering puppet-master audiences sometimes expect; instead, Jones crafts something far more unsettling: a quiet, calculating, ice-cold predator. He treats each lie as a small, poisonous seed, planting them with unnerving calm. That restraint makes him all the more terrifying. His performance is a reminder that Iago’s evil is not theatrical—it is intimate, insidious, and deeply human. Whenever Jones steps into the light, the tension spikes; whenever he speaks, the audience leans in. It is, in every sense, a masterclass.
Yet even with Harewood’s commanding presence, the gravitational pull of the evening belongs unmistakably to Toby Jones. His Iago is not the blustering puppet-master audiences sometimes expect; instead, Jones crafts something far more unsettling: a quiet, calculating, ice-cold predator. He treats each lie as a small, poisonous seed, planting them with unnerving calm. That restraint makes him all the more terrifying. His performance is a reminder that Iago’s evil is not theatrical—it is intimate, insidious, and deeply human. Whenever Jones steps into the light, the tension spikes; whenever he speaks, the audience leans in. It is, in every sense, a masterclass.
Tom Morris’ directorial approach draws cues from Jamie Lloyd’s famously minimalist aesthetic, yet with sufficient structural grounding to avoid feeling sparse. Rather than stripping the stage to nothingness, Morris shapes a space that feels intentionally reduced—a canvas rather than a void. His strongest visual storytelling comes early on, as the elegant, orderly opening scene dissolves into the chaos of the storm. The gradual, almost choreographed shifting of set pieces creates a hypnotic momentum, enhanced by atmospheric projections and lighting that morph the stage into something fluid and ominous. The transformation is not just beautiful—it clarifies the emotional rupture the characters are about to endure.
Tom Morris’ directorial approach draws cues from Jamie Lloyd’s famously minimalist aesthetic, yet with sufficient structural grounding to avoid feeling sparse. Rather than stripping the stage to nothingness, Morris shapes a space that feels intentionally reduced—a canvas rather than a void. His strongest visual storytelling comes early on, as the elegant, orderly opening scene dissolves into the chaos of the storm. The gradual, almost choreographed shifting of set pieces creates a hypnotic momentum, enhanced by atmospheric projections and lighting that morph the stage into something fluid and ominous. The transformation is not just beautiful—it clarifies the emotional rupture the characters are about to endure.
This focus on essential storytelling pays off more often than not. Morris’ restraint allows Shakespeare’s language to breathe and gives the actors room to carve out their characters without being dwarfed by scenery. For a first-time viewer like myself, the production succeeds in making the narrative crystalline and immediate. Still, the minimalistic approach occasionally works against it; a few transitions feel underdeveloped, and there are moments where a touch more theatricality would have reinforced the stakes. The production is sturdy, but not groundbreaking. It’s thoughtful rather than transformative.
This focus on essential storytelling pays off more often than not. Morris’ restraint allows Shakespeare’s language to breathe and gives the actors room to carve out their characters without being dwarfed by scenery. For a first-time viewer like myself, the production succeeds in making the narrative crystalline and immediate. Still, the minimalistic approach occasionally works against it; a few transitions feel underdeveloped, and there are moments where a touch more theatricality would have reinforced the stakes. The production is sturdy, but not groundbreaking. It’s thoughtful rather than transformative.
What ultimately lifts the evening is the synergy between Morris’ clean, text-forward vision and the towering performances at its center. Harewood brings depth and authority to a role he clearly knows in his bones, while Jones turns one of Shakespeare’s most reviled antagonists into a disturbingly mesmerizing figure. Their dynamic crackles with tension, the push and pull between trust and betrayal rendered with painful clarity.
What ultimately lifts the evening is the synergy between Morris’ clean, text-forward vision and the towering performances at its center. Harewood brings depth and authority to a role he clearly knows in his bones, while Jones turns one of Shakespeare’s most reviled antagonists into a disturbingly mesmerizing figure. Their dynamic crackles with tension, the push and pull between trust and betrayal rendered with painful clarity.
This Othello may not redefine the play for a new generation, but it stands firmly as a compelling, lucid, and powerfully acted interpretation. It honors Shakespeare not with nonsense, but with focus—and with two leading performances that remind you why this tragedy continues to grip audiences centuries later.
This Othello may not redefine the play for a new generation, but it stands firmly as a compelling, lucid, and powerfully acted interpretation. It honors Shakespeare not with nonsense, but with focus—and with two leading performances that remind you why this tragedy continues to grip audiences centuries later.
OTHELLO - Theatre Royal Haymarket
Attended on 3 November 2025