“Othello” at West End Theatre (Photo: Ashley Garrett)

Under the artistic direction of Eric Tucker, Bedlam has consistently proven itself a dynamic and often dynamite producer of classic plays. Be it work by George Bernard Shaw, William Shakespeare, Anton Chekhov, or Arthur Miller, the company excels at locating the essence of a play and its characters, and presenting them in an unadorned, raw fashion that nonetheless invigorates the script.

Returning its gaze to Shakespeare for the first time in several years, the company is currently staging Othello, directed by and starring Tucker, in the humble, flat space of the West End Theatre. On the one hand, the show is classic Bedlam: Four actors play all the roles in a simple space that is at once free of the trappings of traditional theater and enlivened by Bedlam’s imaginative use of its environment. But on the other hand, this Othello is not Bedlam at its best. Here, the company’s deconstruction of theater’s traditional norms seems to overshoot and arrive at a muted staging that leaves the script on its own for much of the show, without the vigor of a spirited production.

Much of Act One, for instance, features the four actors (Tucker, Susannah Hoffman, Susannah Millonzi, and Ryan Quinn) standing in a flat line reciting their lines with scant movement. Little other than a subtle change in voice indicates when an actor has shifted from one character to another, and some of Shakespeare’s more chaotic scenes—like Brabantio and his men challenging Othello with drawn weapons, or the drunken carousing of soldiers in Cyprus—are subdued. After an intermission reshuffling of the playing space, the second act becomes more dynamic than the first, but it is essentially theater in the round with actors playing different roles by doing different voices. This does not achieve the great imaginative heights to which Bedlam often ascends.

Happily, the company’s other great strength—deep understanding of a script, presented in clear, occasionally revelatory fashion—is on display here. As an actor, Tucker has a great ability to deliver Shakespeare in a manner that sounds colloquial without sacrificing its poetry. His Iago is not a sneering villain but a smooth, matter-of-fact puppet master. And as a director, Tucker does well to invoke similar subtle directness from his cast. Quinn’s Othello is understated and measured until Iago’s machinations get to him, and then Quinn effectively uses Othello’s initial reasonableness as a clear counterpoint to his jealous rage. Opposite Quinn, Hoffman’s Desdemona is full of grace and pitiable energy, exuding the warmth of love early on and then a pure bafflement when her husband turns cold and angry.

Hoffman also plays Cassio, a doubling that breeds murkiness in the presentation of both characters, as does Millonzi’s transition through several smaller roles like Roderigo, the Duke of Venice, and Emilia, none of whom get a chance to develop fully.

What might ultimately be missing here in the theatrical playfulness that is so fundamental to Bedlam and Tucker’s direction. This is a good, unique, and smart Othello, but it lacks the fun that undergirds much of Bedlam’s past successes.