Orson Welles
Othello

As I have already had the chance to say regarding "Falstaff," Orson Welles is the William Shakespeare of cinema. Shakespeare was a literary genius capable of elevating tragedy to an almost mythological level, taking it to the most extreme consequences and leaving it there, suspended between legend and reality. The same narrative methods were masterfully used by Orson Welles, whom I continue to consider, perhaps not unjustly, the greatest genius of the Seventh Art.

That Welles can stand on the same level as Shakespeare is confirmed by "Othello," one of his innumerable masterpieces: no one, before or after, will be able to recreate the same epic aura and legendary pace when speaking of Othello, Iago, Desdemona. Curiously, however, among the many Othellos made and consumed, this one by Welles was the toughest to shoot, due to a production pared down to the bone and extremely weak financial resources. In the hands of any other director, it would have been a flop, but the lack of means and possibilities further stimulated Welles's creativity, leading him to decide to shoot outside the United States (where he was always hindered, to the point that more than once the Studios chose to boycott his films) and choose Morocco and Italy as locations, shooting interiors in Rome.
The result, as usual, is exceptional. The poverty of means allows Welles to unleash all his visual genius, and thus, the half-lights on the Venetian canals, the monumental wide shots (used to deceive the viewer: Desdemona is simultaneously played by Lea Padovani, Cécile Aubry, and Betsy Blair), the subtle play of shadows, ethereal lighting, and vapor. It is poverty that sharpens ingenuity, and thanks to this poverty, Welles chooses to focus the entire story, rather than on the character of Othello (played by him), on the character of Iago (Michael MacLiammoir), a kind of tragic figure, lost amidst the breathtaking beauty of artistic Venice and the remorse, grudges, dramas, which he experiences with agonizing intensity. In this way, William Shakespeare's tragedy becomes neither effect-heavy nor grandiose; rather, it becomes dark, intimate, poor but essential, a disarming essentiality masterfully underscored by the mournful black and white of Anchise Brizzi, G.R. Aldo, George Fanto, Oberdan Troiani, and Alberto Fusi.

Yet, this miraculous "Othello" is also a profoundly modern film, capable of inventing modern and effective filming techniques. In the entire film, about 91', there are more than 1500 different shots, never one the same as another, essentially a kind of technical marvel, a technical revolution that even the greats of cinema, from Chaplin to Ford, never achieved, and which would be one of Stanley Kubrick's greatest laments (a great admirer of Orson Welles): that record remains unmatched today because modern action films, like "Terminator" or "Robocop," even using more than 1500 shots, are often forced to repeat the same shot. In "Othello," this does not happen: there are 1500 shots, and each one is different from the other. A great technical exploration, which will allow great directors who came after Welles to copy the great innovations brought by the American director/actor. Not to mention the usual daring studies on camera depth, a true Wellesian obsession.
But beyond purely technical matters (still of great significance), Welles's "Othello" is perhaps the most beautiful Shakespearean adaptation ever, devoid of any modern sex appeal (despite that blowhard Kenneth Branagh!), without any forced classical setting (see Laurence Olivier), but with the purity and simplicity of the greats. A "Othello," dark and silent, where the sense of Life and Death reach absolute peaks of artistic expression, as demonstrated by the opening and closing sequences (it begins and ends with the funeral of Othello and his wife).

It took two years for Orson Welles to realize the film, but in the scarce hour and a half of the film, the production difficulties seem to evaporate. Everything is so perfect, so precise, so clean, it seems like an (almost) normal film.

Finally, a little advice: for those who wish to delve deeper into the theme of Orson Welles and William Shakespeare (there would be millions of analogies between the two, but for space reasons, I cannot go into detail), I recommend "L'incantesimo è compiuto: Shakespeare secondo Welles," a beautiful essay by Gherardo Casale. It's almost 300 pages, but if you're passionate about cinema, you'll read it all in one go. Because besides this, Orson Welles also derived a beautiful "Macbeth" from Shakespeare.

A genius, indeed.

Review made at the request of the Punisher (if you must, blame him).