Othello

62/100 Orson Welles’ Othello is a film pulled in two directions: raw cinematic brilliance on one side, and structural and ethical collapse on the other. It’s a jagged, uneven, often breathtaking adaptation of Shakespeare that manages to be both thrilling and deeply flawed, a fever dream masquerading as a tragedy. What immediately stands out is the visual language. Welles turns every location, from crumbling ruins to candlelit halls, into a claustrophobic arena of shadows, arches, and spiraling madness. The camera moves like a living thing, creeping through narrow corridors and vaulting into oppressive wide shots. In purely visual terms, it’s often astonishing. This is Welles at his most expressionistic, weaponizing architecture and light to externalize Othello’s descent into jealousy and rage. There are moments, like the murder scene or the silent gazes across vast spaces, that feel more powerful than anything said aloud. But those spoken words are where the film stumbles. The production was infamously chaotic: filmed over several years across different countries, with Welles financing it in pieces and actors disappearing mid-shoot. The result is a fractured edit patched together with inconsistent dubbing, jumpy continuity, and awkward pacing. Then there’s the performance, and the problem that can’t be sidestepped: Welles plays Othello in blackface. It’s not a footnote. It colors the entire film. Welles isn’t just darkening his skin; he’s leaning into an exoticized, outsider archetype that strips away the complexity of the character. His Othello becomes more of a symbol than a man. The performance is technically controlled, even imposing in parts, but ultimately distant. He feels like a director performing the idea of Othello, rather than inhabiting him. That imbalance extends to the rest of the cast. Micheál MacLiammóir’s Iago is the strongest presence, calculating, venomous, and far more emotionally grounded than Welles. Suzanne Cloutier’s Desdemona, on the other hand, is a cipher. The film gives her no inner life, no real arc, and barely a voice. The tragedy plays out, but it’s emotionally underpowered. The climax hits its beats, but not its soul. Still, it’s hard to dismiss Othello. For all its flaws, and they are considerable, it remains a bold, visceral experiment in cinematic Shakespeare. It has moments that feel mythic, even primal. The film fails as often as it succeeds, but when it does work, it reminds you why Welles is considered one of cinema’s great visionaries. Othello is not a great film, but it is a fascinating one. A fractured, ethically compromised, artistically ambitious artifact. Orson Welles Ranked