As is usually the case when I go to see something at the Swan theatre, my overwhelming impression after watching The Jew of Malta was ‘why is this not performed more often?’. Admittedly, the racism and anti-Semitism inherent in the text is undeniably a barrier, making Marlowe’s work an interesting choice to play alongside Othello and The Merchant of Venice in the main RST.

Barabas is probably one of the worse villains to grace the early modern stage: I couldn’t help but compare his speech delighting in all his wrong-doings towards Christians to Aaron the Moor in Titus Andronicus, who takes similar glee in his crimes. Barabas is prepared to kill countless individuals, including his own daughter, in order to safe-guard his gold and gain revenge on those who have wronged him. The original text provides little opportunity for us to see his character sympathetically, with only the governor’s anti-Semitic decision to confiscate half of all Jews’ estates to pay the Turkish tribute serving as a potential motivation.

Justin Audibert, however, creates a more complicated picture in his production. In the first principle scene we witness Barabas being brutally beaten by the governor and his lackeys for refusing to surrender his goods. Having recently been to see the film The Woman in Gold, which deals so heart-rendingly with art restitution and the way in which wealthy Jews had their property confiscated by the Nazis, it was hard not to notice the more recent resonances of that image.

After such brutality, Barabas’s cruelty reads more as a result of the barbarities done to him and his people than inherent cruel-heartedness on his part. This impression is strengthened by the obviously strong bond between him and his daughter Abigail, whose touching devotion to her father and strong-willed nature is so excellently captured by Catrin Stewart. Abigail’s desertion after Barabas’s machinations cost her lover his life consequently reads as the tipping point, after which Barabas’s cruelty knows no bounds. With a less-gifted actor, it would be easy to read Barabas simply as a cold-hearted villain with no hidden depths. Jasper Britton, however, balances the many complexities of his character with skill. His Barabas is by turns pantomime villain; wronged father and citizen; and greedy miser. Bitingly funny, it was hard not to take a certain perverse pleasure in watching his many villainous exploits. Of special note is Lanre Malaolu, who provides an excellent foil for Britton in his portrayal of Ithamore. While Barabas is Machiavellian, Ithamore is almost grotesque in his glee at the evil deeds performed. Watching the two of them vie for control of each other (and of Barabas’s fortune) in the latter half of the play provided for some of the most entertaining and by turn horrifying scenes in the play.

The stylized nature of many of the deaths in this play is also worthy of mention. Marlowe has provided enough interesting death scenes in the production to fulfill any director’s wish and the execution of them more than paid off. One which particularly springs to mind is the image of four nuns gathered for mass. They begin to walk in a circle, singing in Latin with their rosaries out in prayer. Then the image becomes a more sinister one. They start to cough, foaming at the mouth as the poison begins to do its work, but they continue to walk in their circle in an endeavor to finish their devotions. Such an image is somewhat fitting for this black comedy of a production.