Laurence Olivier's extravagant performance as the jealous Moor of Venice had its origins on stage at London's National Theatre; this 1965 film is a straight rendering of that production, shot on a soundstage with spare backdrops. However much the resulting artifact can actually be described as a film, one must feel gratitude just for the preservation of Olivier's pinwheeling turn. Yes, it's theatrical: the blackface make-up, the exotic gestures, the rumbly voice. Olivier doesn't connect organically with the character, but builds layer upon layer of effect until reaching critical mass; then his Othello explodes across the stage, keening in rage or flopping in agony. Before being encouraged to doubt his spotless wife Desdemona (Maggie Smith), Olivier's Moor flashes a broad grin that stands as a beacon of his shallow self-confidence; after the coin drops, his body hunches in misery. If Olivier dominates, this film nevertheless presents a marvelous Iago, by Frank Finlay, the evil engineer of the plot. It may just be Finlay's physical and vocal resemblance to comic Peter Cook, but he seems to embody the sarcasm and "sick" humor of the 1960s in his Iago--and his dry style is far more attuned to the movie camera than Olivier's. Olivier, Finlay, and Smith were all nominated for Oscars, as was Joyce Redman, as Iago's hapless lady. For a real shock, and a great lesson in Olivier's chameleon talent, watch Othello and then view the brief promotional film shot during filming, included on the DVD--you'll be astonished that the gray-haired gentleman, near sixty and with clunky eyeglasses, is the same volcanic performer that just erupted for 166 minutes on film.

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