[In the following review of the 2003 Pearl Theater Company production of The Merchant of Venice, Bruckner underscores the effects of director Shepard Sobel's emphasis on the relationship between Shylock and Antonio.]

In the Pearl Theater Company's Merchant of Venice, Shylock certainly makes the most of his day in court, and all the days before, and that makes this production a sometimes troubling experience. Shepard Sobel, the company's founder and the director here, accomplishes this transformation by focusing our attention more intently than usual on the confrontations between Shylock and Antonio, the merchant of the title.

Dominic Cuskern's Shylock is angry, bristly, too offended for too long to hide his resentment. This Shylock affects a slight Middle European accent, and he knows how to make the other characters, and the audience, feel the snap of his wit. (No other character can stand up to him in this respect.) He makes no big speeches. Those few that we expect to be appeals to the audience are spoken directly to other characters, naturally, and you can feel Shylock struggling to hold onto his temper. His defeat at the end of the play is pitiable.

As for Antonio, Dan Daily turns him into an easily recognizable commercial tycoon, a bit standoffish, bragging about his diversified investments in shipping, easily commanding his younger colleagues, silencing them with declarations that his status gives him higher obligations. When Shylock first accuses Antonio of spitting on him, you can almost see this Antonio craning over the lip of his skybox to get a better aim.

There is a dramatic spark between these two characters that puts everyone else in the background, and that makes the final court scene viscerally upsetting but, in an odd way, hopeful. There is a feeling that Shylock will somehow escape the legal manacles placed on him by the duke and the law, and then all these people will learn what an irresistibly smart opponent he can be.

In the background the play remains a comedy, as Shakespeare meant it to be, and there is plenty of laughter at the complicated maneuvers and misunderstandings of the three pairs of lovers and the clown. The discovery by Portia and Nerissa that their new husbands have given away their wedding rings is as funny as any version I can recall.

But there are a number of distracting lapses of attention.

Portia seems to like putting her hands on everyone she fancies. This woman is sought after in marriage by kings and gladly spurns them. So why is she acting like Fergie? Launcelot Gobbo, plotting Jessica's jewel heist and escape, fondles her knee. Bassanio, denouncing Shylock for demanding his pound of flesh, grabs his neck and appears to choke him. When Shylock leaves the court grieving and broken, Gratiano snatches his yarmulke off his head.

Nowadays we tolerate coarser behavior in our betters than people did in the past. But in the context of this elegantly contrived and written play, little vulgarities of this kind can easily seem to yank an actor out of character—a risk no director should be willing to tolerate.