Verdi’s Otello set such a high bar for adaptations of the Shakespearean tragedy that trying to repeat that success is a daunting task. Lar Lubovitch’s ballet Othello: A Dance in Three Acts (1997) is often considered one of the more successful efforts. Nevertheless, it isn’t done that often. Susan Jaffe likes full-length narrative ballets (A Winter’s Tale, Crime and Punishment, Woolf Works), so it’s not a surprise she revived Othello.

Calvin Royal III in <i>Othello: A Dance in Three Acts</i> &copy; Steven Pisano
Calvin Royal III in Othello: A Dance in Three Acts
© Steven Pisano

First, the negatives of Lubovitch’s ballet: the ballet vocabulary is extremely limited. It reminds me of the Soviet drambalets. Othello is tortured because he puts his head in his hands and flails his arms. Women are repeatedly lifted in an extreme split that looks gynaecological rather than romantic. We know Iago is a villain because he runs his fingers along peoples’ faces in a sinister manner. Cassio is a young stud because he does impressive saut de basques. Desdemona is innocent because she lifts her leg in a high arabesque and looks towards the heavens. She bourrées constantly because her feet barely touch the ground.

The music is as bombastic as the drambalet scores. Elliot Goldenthal’s score sounds like historical epic movie music. I half expected gladiators to march onstage. We know Othello is full of angst from the percussive, clanging, dissonant chords that play constantly. We know Iago is a villain because of the sinister, Darth-Vader-like motif that accompanies his appearances onstage. We know Desdemona is innocent from the high, pure melodies that play when she dances. It’s not subtle.

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Fangqi Li and Calvin Royal III in Othello: A Dance in Three Acts
© Steven Pisano

But Othello was an excellent showcase for the company. ABT’s greatest strength has always been its roster of dancers who can really act. Othello gave the chance for ABT dancers to act up a storm. I also loved the sets and costumes by George Tsypin and Ann Hould-Ward which looked both Renaissance-era and timeless.

James Whiteside (Iago) is a wonderfully vivid stage actor, and Iago allowed him to chew the scenery. It’s a great late-career role for him. Iago is a baddie by the way he lecherously abuses his wife Emilia (a wonderful Madison Brown), the way he follows Othello like a dark shadow. Whiteside was captivating every time he stepped onstage. 

Calvin Royal III as Othello actually had the less showy role, but he also made a huge impact. Royal is a naturally warm, effusive dancer. He was charismatic and appealing in the early parts of the ballet. His deterioration into unhinged jealousy was convincing and heartbreaking. 

Lubovitch’s interpretation of Iago and Othello is that there is a strong homoerotic component to their relationship. There is a long pas de deux in the third act in which Iago mirrored and shadowed Othello, and this duet unironically had the most heat the entire evening. At one point Iago even puts his foot directly in Othello’s crotch. Subtle. I loved the psychological implication of this duet too: Othello is being infected. The poison drips through. 

Fangqi Li (Desdemona) had disappointingly little to do. Shakespeare, Verdi and Rossini (who also wrote his own operatic version) all imbue Desdemona with much more personality. Desdemona is much more than a damsel-in-distress.

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Calvin Royal III and James Whiteside in Othello: A Dance in Three Acts
© Steven Pisano

Desdemona was lifted a lot overhead in an extreme split, maybe to show her lack of agency? But Li was innocent and sweet, and had silky backwards bourrées. Her terror in the last act was palpable. Her understated beauty and grace reminds me so much of Stella Abrera. 

Cassio (Jake Roxander) and Bianca (Breanne Granlund) had the most actual bravura dancing, and they were crowd favorites. Roxander’s incredible elevation in his saut de basques needs to be studied for science, and Granlund led the second act tarantella with the kind of go-for-broke energy that jolts the audience. Unfortunately, none of the steps actually resembled a tarantella. It just looked like a bunch of people stomping around the stage with wild hair.

So this isn’t Petipa. It’s not top-tier MacMillan. And yet … it was very enjoyable, the way Soviet-era drambalets often were. And the dancers really throw themselves into it. The audience was loud and enthusiastic. 

***11