The Merchant of Venice
Michael Radford

Rhona Foulis

One of Shakespeare's problem plays, The Merchant of Venice holds tremendous dramatic potential for its controversial portrayal of Shylock, the Jew. Despite a remarkable cast (including Al Pacino, Jeremy Irons and Joseph Fiennes), Michael Radford's new film adaptation fails to capitalise on the controversy. The first image is of a crucifix, undercut by text explaining the contemporary context of 'intolerance of the Jews' in seventeenth-century Italy. After a stark opening, we expect the film to confront the play's debatable anti-Semitism head-on; instead, the debate drowns along the Venetian waterways.

Pacino plays a lonely and weak Shylock, but the film shows us nothing of his mistreatment by the dominant Christians. Without witnessing Shylock's victimisation, Shakespeare's rousing 'Hath not a Jew eyes' speech is deprived of its rightful pathos. Radford's film presents Bassanio (Fiennes) and his pack as lavish, materialistic and hypocritical Christians. After the casket scene, we see a handsome Bassanio running gold coins through his fingers, reminding us that 'All that glisters is not gold'. However, it is the forlorn and desperate Antonio, played compassionately by Irons, whom Shylock drags into court. His vengeance therefore appears both unfounded and merciless. Nor is Shylock's performance in court spirited enough to attract our attention or sympathy. The scene has drama, and quickens the pace of the film, but Shylock's character is dramatically overpowered.

We do sense the gravity of daughter Jessica's betrayal: eloping with a Christian as a symbolic thunderstorm breaks, we can perceive the pathetic fallacy of 'ill brewing' in Venice. At the very end of the film, there is a powerful and poignant shot of Jessica overlooking the water, estranged from her father. The water represents the lamentable gulf, not just between the Jew and his daughter, but between two religions and peoples, as Jessica despondently clings to her stolen ring. Unfortunately, our sympathies do not easily ally with Shylock.

Just as Radford sidesteps the religious aspects of The Merchant, so he avoids interrogating its sexual politics. Lynn Collins's Paltrow-like Portia (with pouting aplenty) appears almost cheerful about her powerlessness to choose her husband. She accepts her object-status in the marriage bargain, as well as her dutiful subservience to 'her lord, her governor, her king' (her use of the third person suggesting a complete renouncement of autonomy). Marriage is accepted as an economic bond, as much as the money-lending bond between Shylock and Antonio. On this score, Radford is entirely faithful to Shakespeare's patriarchal text, but he loses its nuances. Irons has argued that this timely film relates to fundamentalism; most obviously the court scene demonstrates how 'the Word' may be interpreted and twisted to hegemonic interests. If only Radford had been more provocative in his own interpretation of the play.

An inevitable problem with Shakespeare on screen, but particularly with this film's exquisite Venetian backdrop, is that the spectator is distracted from the sound of Shakespeare's verse. We are so drawn to the visually stunning that his words do not resonate; our imaginations switch off as the scenery takes away from Shakespeare's equally beautiful linguistic imagery. Radford relies too heavily on visual beauty and not the force of words.

And disappointingly, Radford plays it safe by refusing to confront - let alone subvert - the plays treatment of anti-Semitism and patriarchy (of male ownership and absent mothers), or even to challenge his audience's own prejudices. His cinematography is visually stunning, but somehow not quite Shakespeare, and not quite enough to keep Venice afloat.