On 4th March 2026, I watched Othello, recorded live in a west end theatre and beamed to the Cineworld screen at the Beacon cinema in Eastbourne. It was the best Othello I have ever seen.
The four principal characters were stupendous. Toby Jones was an odd choice for Iago but when he dropped his voice and growled a soliloquy expressing hate or outlining his villainous plans, he was evil personified. Dave Harewood was a statesmanlike figure who became tormented after that wonderful scene when Iago convinces him, by hints, and denials, that Desdemona is having an affair with Michael Cassio; this was another wonderful performance. Desdemona, played by Caitlin Fitzgerald, an American actress, was so loving, so joyful, so beseeching, so defiant, so adorable. But, for me, the revelation was the actress playing Emilia, a part that is crucial and yet can be treated as a minor part. Vinette Robinson took the role and made it her own.
But the play, the play’s the thing. And Shakespeare was a writer. Not only was the plot intricate and twisty. There’s that pivotal scene when Iago warns Othello: “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on”; telling the man not to be jealous and, by this trick, making him so jealous that he is prepared to kill. Wonderful, dexterous writing. And that moment when Desdemona, finally realising that Othello means to kill her, begs for her life: “O banish me, my lord, but kill me not! ... Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight. ... But half an hour! ... But while I say one prayer!” It was almost unendurable.
Astonishingly wonderful.
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