Transhistorical Dialogues: Recanonizing Shakespeare on the Contemporary Turkish Stage – PART 2
Burak Urucu*
Abstract
Turkish theatre has a deeply rooted tradition in oral and performative narrative forms such as ortaoyunu, Karagöz shadow puppet theatre, and meddah, all of which are integral to the country’s cultural heritage. This study examines how these traditions are interwoven into five recent Shakespearean adaptations produced by independent theatre companies in Istanbul. By closely analyzing these selected adaptations, the study conceptualizes the mechanics of their rewriting processes, shaped by metatheatricality, recanonization, and repertoire. With its comparative framework encompassing multilayered rewriting strategies and traditional aesthetics, the study aims to stimulate broader discussions on temporality, cultural memory, and transhistorical performance studies. The first part of the article, published in Critical Stages, no. 32 (December 2025), introduces the Adaptive Stage Matrix (ASM) and analyzes Baba Sahne’s Bir Baba Hamlet (A Father Hamlet, 2017) and Öteki Tiyatro and Hayali Tasvir’s Venedikli Tacir (The Merchant of Venice, 2024) through this framework. The second part applies the ASM to Moda Sahnesi’s Othello (2024), Nos Tiyatro’s Verona Çıkmazı (Verona Impasse, 2024), and Yu Studio’s Othello! Seyircili İntikam Provası (Othello! A Revenge Rehearsal with the Audience, 2023) and includes the complete bibliography for both parts.
Keywords: Shakespeare, adaptations, Turkish theatre, transhistorical stage, recanonization, metatheatricality, cultural repertoire
CASE STUDY 3: Meddah Revitalized: Performing the Contemporary Through Traditional Storytelling in Othello[1]
Founded in 2013 by a group of theatre professionals in Istanbul, Moda Sahnesi (the production company and the venue) has become an influential center for theatre since its establishment. Othello is the company’s sixth Shakespeare adaptation, including Hamlet (2013), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (2015), The Tempest (2017), The Taming of the Shrew (2022), and Macbeth (2025). Director and co-founder Kemal Aydoğan is known for his radical twists on Shakespearean plotlines, filtered through local contexts and sociopolitical urgencies of contemporary Türkiye. The performance space is designed for maximum audience immersion, emotional engagement, and responsiveness, featuring a flexible, modular layout that challenges traditional theatrical space norms and aligns with Aydoğan’s publicly stated vision of creating a theatre for political and social commentary purposes.
The production employs rewriting strategies that underline the connection between Shakespearean drama and Turkish cultural idioms, and the pre-show foyer performance catches attention immediately. As the audience enters the venue and walks down the stairs to reach the main performance hall, the corridors are filled with the joyful tunes of maqam-based[2] Turkish art music. In the foyer, the singer is revealed as Yılmaz Sütçü, who also performs multiple characters in the play. The atmosphere transforms into a lively music hall, where he greets the audience with Turkish music[3] that features themes of jealousy, love, and betrayal. One of the songs has the lyrics: “For days, was the love between us just a lie? / Please close the curtains; this comedy is now over!,”[4] which directly alludes to the Karagöz tradition, and another one went on: “I envy it if a strand of your hair touches your face. I envy your tongue if you utter a word to someone else. / Oh, God! What kind of love is this? I will die from its torment” (Aydoğan).[5]
This pre-show performance serves a dual purpose within the context of adaptation, emphasizing locality and presentness, as a metatheatrical tool shown above in the ASM. First, it aims to anchor Othello within a distinct Turkish cultural context, using musical chords to connect Othello’s destructive jealousy with Turkish cultural idioms. Second, it seeks to evoke a sense of familiarity and nostalgia among the audience through songs shared at family gatherings, on the radio, and in emotional moments.
This point is further elaborated by Aydoğan, who, in an interview, discusses the challenges of localizing and creating a suitable theatrical environment for plays rooted in the Western dramatic tradition. He remarks that Othello finetunes its dramaturgical touches to ensure a temporal collision of the audience’s present and Shakespeare’s own moment (Kıraathane İstanbul Edebiyat Evi). Hence, incorporating local filters (in this case, songs) is a key strategy employed in this adaptation to make the narrative accessible and engaging for the audience. Sütçü’s function as the narrator ensures this seamless transition. Onur Ünsal, a Turkish actor and one of the twelve founding partners of Moda Sahnesi, views it as a dramaturgical responsibility to enable the audience to find satisfaction in making sense of a Shakespearean play. Starting with the foyer show, these adaptive strategies engage the audience as active participants in the performance, setting the tone for a localized, immersive reinterpretation of a Shakespearean narrative. Meanwhile, the performance space effectively maintains a historical aesthetic, with unfinished Elizabethan-era garments displayed on either side of the stage, along with the masts of galleys and ropes hanging above the backdrop.
Sütçü, who created the lively pre-show atmosphere in the foyer, now takes the stage as the play begins, greets the audience, and welcomes them to the performance. This subverts the conventional Shakespearean opening on a Venetian Street at night, where Iago and Roderigo fabricate Desdemona’s secret marriage to Othello, thereby setting the scene for immediate deception, hatred, and alarm. Like ortaoyunu and Karagöz practices, which share a similar structured routine for delivery (prologue-dialogue-the main plot-epilogue), meddah performances also feature defined sections, and here Sütçü’s performance fits well with them. Evoking a meddah, he passionately narrates the social and historical background of the Mediterranean setting, touches upon the Ottoman-Venetian war,[6] the geographical location of Maghrib, and discusses Eurocentrism, the Renaissance, Florence, and Machiavelli with the audience. He recounts the Shakespearean plot, discussing how the love between Othello and Desdemona blossomed, how Cassio earned his promotion, and how Roderigo desperately desires to see Desdemona, with the flair of a tall tale – all in a playful, gossipy tone as if chatting with a close friend.
As Shakespearean language and context may become challenging for both Anglophone and non-Anglophone audiences, Sütçü’s strong connection with the audience gives him a commanding metatheatrical presence on stage, which reassures the smooth reception of the Renaissance dynamics interwoven into the narrative. His remarks often include satirical references to local politics and events that can only be recognized within the Turkish context. He passionately reminds us that nearly 5 billion people have lost their lives in wars throughout history, exclaiming, “No more wars!”, then playfully suggests that a trustee[7] could be appointed to manage the theatre at any moment, referencing the current political events making local headlines as this essay is being written.[8]
Aydoğan’s Othello remains loyal to the Shakespearean plot, albeit with the exception of certain scenes that introduce non-canonical improvisations and metatheatrical interventions aimed at enhancing contextual relevance and creating an immersive experience. The scene where Iago shaves Othello’s beard adds a clever twist to Shakespeare’s play by using a barbershop setting as a place of political and psychological manipulation. The beard-shaving ritual makes Othello vulnerable, especially with a towel wrapped around his neck, giving Iago a strategic advantage to plant his schemes of jealousy. Barbershops, particularly in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern countries, are social spaces where men engage in daily conversation, share local gossip, and exchange personal anecdotes. As Iago sharpens his blade and prepares to shave Othello, he simultaneously hones his manipulative tactics. In this scene, Iago plants a seed of doubt in Othello’s mind by suggesting that Cassio is interested in Desdemona. Iago’s manipulations, cloaked by his cunning rhetoric, soft tone of voice, and restrained body language, gradually drive Othello towards a psychological conundrum where he barely controls his composure (Fig. 1). The barbershop scene serves as an adaptive device that filters tactical manipulation through a local repertoire enabled by homosocial etiquette and ritual shaving practice.
One of the layered dramaturgies employed in the adaptation is Othello’s transformation at Iago’s hands, unfolding over a sequence of scenes in the second part of the play. We see Othello evolve from a wild, impassioned, and uproarious general, who once even almost choked Iago to death in a fit of rage, into a subdued figure who eventually rests his head on Iago’s shoulder, only to be comforted by him. Sedgwick notes that “…in any erotic rivalry, the bond that links the two rivals is as intense and potent as the bond that links either of the rivals to the beloved” (Sedgwick 21). Grounded in the Desdemona triangle, the rivalry generates a homosocial intimacy in the adaptation’s barbershop scene. Building on Sedgwick’s argument, Matz explores the homoerotic charge of the play and argues that “Iago marries Othello. Desdemona assumes Cassio’s privileged access to Othello, while Iago assumes Desdemona’s” (Matz 265). Hence, the homosocial codes of gentle touch and talk performed at the barber shop unveil a particular sense of intimacy between Iago and Othello. The scene triggers a series of transformative impacts, challenging the hierarchical power dynamics between the duo.
In addition to acting as the meddah-like narrator and messenger, Sütçü also undertakes the roles of Lodovico, Montano, and Bianca, the courtesan in Shakespeare’s original (Fig. 2). The reimagined version of Bianca offers an innovative twist on the Shakespearean context through the use of Cypriot Turkish accent, providing comic relief while challenging conventional gender roles and power dynamics. The scene could be argued to rely on homophobia and transphobia for sustained audience engagement and even to re-establish male dominance on stage with Bianca’s gendered, raw vulgarity in Sütçü’s interpretation of the character. However, the portrayal of this norm-defying courtesan challenging Othello’s authority and making fun of Cassio’s military prowess is worth mentioning as a temporary subversion and reprimand of authority. When he storms onto the stage as Bianca, wearing her deep-slit, colorful beach pareo, a bikini top, flip-flops, and a stylish red wig, a roar of laughter fills the performance space. On top of that, she speaks a peculiar Turkish Cypriot accent and takes on playfully hilarious gestures, manipulating Cassio. She pinches Cassio’s cheek and all over his body, and slams him against the wall, asking for a night out. When Cassio mentions Othello, she castigates him, saying, “Damn on your commander.” The boldly daring and straightforward portrayal of Bianca subverts the muted Shakespearean character, highlighting an empowered agency. However, the comic undertone persists through feminized masculinity, which ultimately appears more as a transphobic reaction to gender norms than as a response to the norm-challenging act of the courtesan, thereby reinforcing heteronormative and patriarchal standards.
Perhaps one of the most climactic scenes emerges at the end of the play, following Othello’s strangling of Desdemona. Consumed by jealousy, Othello begins to smash the black boxes that make a wall at the far stage, accompanied by his stormy, nerve-wracking yells and tense music. The ritual is completed when Othello finally approaches the seated Desdemona from behind, grips her neck with both hands, and chokes her. Her stillness and passivity are less about weakness and more about her structural entrapment within patriarchal protocols, which lead to lethal immobilization. When both bodies collapse on the ground, Sütçü reappears on stage and slowly walks to the center from the right corner. He is half-naked, with only a white cloth wrapped around his waist. He looks directly at the audience and asks with an eerily solemn tone of voice: “The comedy is over. Well, did we have fun?”(Aydoğan). The air grows even gloomier when he quotes the lines from the Turkish translation of Walter Benjamin’s famous essay “On the Concept of History” in which Benjamin introduces the concept of the Angel of History, inspired by Paul Klee’s painting Angelus Novus. According to Benjamin, the painting depicts a haunting angel with fearful eyes, a dreadfully open mouth, and outstretched wings that metaphorically stick between the past and present. This image inspires Benjamin to envision a pessimistic future amidst the opposing forces of progress and catastrophe. The production utilizes this Benjaminian critique of masculine progress, questioning how its aesthetic portrayal justifies femicide, political surveillance, and corruption. Ultimately, Sütçü concludes his statement by quoting the Turkish translation of Iago’s final words from the original script: “I bleed, sir, but am not killed,” signaling the unsettling persistence of gendered violence and manipulation in today’s world. By reimagining Shakespearean tragedy within a culturally transformed context, the adaptation not only reflects directorial choices but also encourages the audience to confront and reflect upon issues of power, violence, and manipulation from a contemporary perspective.
CASE STUDY 4: Rewriting Romeo and Juliet through Turkish Pop Music in Verona Impasse[9]
Romeo and Juliet inspires many Turkish theatre makers to integrate music into their adaptations and rewrites.[10] “It is a perfect operatic subject,” as it is “soaringly passionate and exquisitely heartbreaking” (Shilvock). This creates chances for directors to enhance the mood, intensify conflicts, and translate them into a diverse array of vocal performances. This perspective is further elaborated in Julie Sanders’ Shakespeare and Music, where Sanders explores the cultural longevity of the play as a symbol of romantic love in popular music. Referencing Stephen Buhler’s analysis, she argues that the play has become an archetypal piece in linking Shakespeare to love stories and permeated twentieth-century music (Sanders 138). It comes as no surprise to the audience that there are more modern adaptations of Romeo and Juliet incorporating music as an essential component in reimagining the play.
Verona Çıkmazı (Verona Impasse 2024) is one of the latest adaptations of Romeo and Juliet on the Turkish stage. The ensemble-driven adaptation is produced by Nos Tiyatro in Istanbul. It reimagines the Shakespearean narrative in a contemporary urban setting, revitalized by 1990s Turkish pop music. The integration of music that features repertoire and affective load for local audiences becomes a key rewriting strategy within the process of recanonization (Ergil). It features a cast of five actors: Esra Bağışgil as Juliet, Tuğçe Özlü Şentürk as Rosaline, Ozan Varol as both Romeo and Lord Capulet, Melih Tuma as Paris and Tybalt, and, as a versatile narrator, Adem Yılmaz takes on the roles of the narrator, Friar Laurence, and several other characters invented within the director’s adaptive universe. The incorporation of pop songs from the 1980s to the 2000s, a period marked by significant transformative changes, both in Türkiye and around the world, anchors the play in a culturally resonant landscape. During this period, “Türkiye witnessed the rediscovery of various pasts to construct new identities [. . .] in parallel with a huge sociological transformation”(Çola 594). “The country was rapidly transformed into a consumer society, a society of images, a society of desire”(Gürbilek 5).
The stage design prominently features Christian and Western dramatic motifs, particularly with a cross figure positioned at the center of the stage on an elevated upstage platform, decorated with lattice-like arched panels. On either side of the platform, staircases provide access to the top, where a terrace resembling a stylized church façade is situated. This visual presentation of the stage anchors the narrative in a symbolic landscape of the Veronese ecclesiastical aesthetic, which alludes to the original Shakespearean setting.[11] As the lights fade, the spotlights illuminate the cross figure, and three performers who serve as the chorus of the original script, enter the stage attired in monastic-style black robes and masks. One of them recounts the Turkish translation of the initial lines of the chorus. To the surprise of the audience, the quasi-gothic ambiance is accompanied by the tunes of “Aynı Nakarat” (The Same Chorus), a 1991 pop song by Turkish singer Nazan Öncel. The lyrics go: “Same old chorus / Always the same, the same / Half of its stale” (Bağışgil). This contrast gives the audience an initial impression that the play will not be a conventional, repetitive, or cliché adaptation of the original text, but rather a locally reframed version. The immediate cultural anchoring with familiar music and comedic setup establishes an affective connection with the audience and subverts the protocols of Shakespearean tragedy. It is striking to note that when translated as “chorus,” the Turkish word “nakarat” establishes a linguistic resonance with the narrative device of foreshadowing embedded in Romeo and Juliet. Therefore, the sarcastic tone of this song is arguably a deliberate choice to highlight the enduring relevance of tragic love stories and how they can be undermined by the shifting social norms of contemporary culture.
Yılmaz ironically questions why legendary love stories consistently follow the same pattern of pain, chaos, tragedy, and downfall, and reveals that he is the narrator of the play and expresses regret, stating that he believes he deserves the lead role instead because he will work hard throughout the performance to keep the plotline on track. Yılmaz’s function here evokes another portrayal of the integration of meddah performance. He frequently breaks the fourth wall, interacts with the audience, and engages in playful dialogues, which demonstrate that his stage presence is constructed as a metatheatrical device—one that is very familiar to the audiences. Soon, it is understood that one of the main innovations in this adaptation is the portrayal of Rosaline, an off-stage character in the original script who is only mentioned in Act I regarding her rejection of Romeo’s advances.
The production transforms Rosaline into a fully embodied, vocal character with narrative agency, ready to change the centuries-old Shakespearean plot and attempt to modify its tragic course. Unlike the source script, Romeo is struck by Rosaline at first sight on the street. Romeo pursues Rosaline in various urban settings, including the metro, gym, cinema, and on a train ride, but each time he is rejected. The fast-paced scenes are accompanied by songs that resonate with the narrative. For instance, when Rosaline sings “Olmaz Oğlan” (“No-Good Boy”) from the early 2000s girl band Hepsi, her body language communicates disinterest to Romeo: “Don’t even look at me, boy—it is not happening. / Go roll yourself toward someone else.” However, Romeo is persistent in winning her hand and sings back with Mansur Ark’s song “Maalesef” (“Unfortunately”), which goes: “Don’t be stubborn, come closer to me” (Bağışgil). This addition to Shakespeare’s original retains audience engagement at its peak with playful jokes, parodies, and surprises, akin to what an ortaoyunu performance was expected to do in Ottoman times.
As Romeo is infatuated with Rosaline, the plot must be adjusted to redirect his attention back to Juliet, and this can only be carried out by the omniscient narrator on stage. A Rosaline-Romeo love must not be allowed, so the narrator tries every absurd scenario to put the plot back on track. For instance, during the famous party scene at the Capulet house, Yılmaz, as the meddah-like narrator, appears as a flamboyant Capulet party guest,wearing a pink ball gown adorned with faux fur and a headpiece featuring bunny ears illuminated by colorful LED lights. Absurdly, the narrator’s playful and passionate image captivates Lord Capulet, who becomes infatuated with her (Fig. 3). Finally, the narrator succeeds in steering their attention towards each other as Romeo and Juliet are struck by Cupid’s arrow and the plot is realigned, at least for now, with its Shakespearean course.
The first part of the show concludes with the famous balcony scene, marked by a heightened, joyful tempo, during which the narrator performs a playful dance to celebrate the plot’s being back on track. As they break into the energetic 1994 Turkish pop song, “Bandıra Bandıra,” known for its bold, flirtatious lyrics and catchy dance beats, Yılmaz’s provocative dance show sent the audience into a roar of laughter while Romeo and Juliet enacted their first spark of love beneath a glowing cross. This absurd landscape where Verona’s solemn imagery and youthful passion collide with playful Turkish beats, the characters joyfully immerse themselves in Evcimik’s song before the lights fade off: “Dip me, dip me with desire / You’ll never get enough of my passion/ I’ve got all the tricks up my sleeve / It’s time you noticed my worth”(Bağışgil).
The second part begins with the church scene, where the narrator has secretly arranged a meeting for Rosaline and Paris, the couple he wants to unite. Now disguised as a nun, he humorously introduces himself as Mother Teresa and begins to manipulate Rosaline’s chances of loving Paris (Fig. 4). As events unfold quickly, more Turkish pop songs accompany Rosaline and Juliet as they bicker about Romeo’s shifting interests amidst the dense, mournful atmosphere following Tybalt’s death. The narrator makes every effort to maintain the Shakespearean myth and rejects any accidents that might result in an unpredictable outcome, such as an unexpected marriage. Ultimately, he successfully reunites Romeo and Juliet and creates a unique, non-Shakespearean marriage between Paris and Rosaline.
The surprise of the performance lies in its rejection of the canonical ending, resulting in the title characters’ survival. This twist not only undermines the dramatic expectations but also resonates with the production’s satirical style, where conventions are challenged, and fatal destiny is ridiculed. As the narrator confesses that his story now ends as planned, all the actors gather on stage in an ensemble moment to sing Kahpe Kader (Treacherous Fate), a once-hit, melancholic yet defiant song by Turkish pop music icon Sezen Aksu – a musical piece so culturally resonant that it was once reinterpreted by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (Most Production 2016). The lyrics reverberate through the scene’s flamboyant ambiance, which localizes the tragic tone of the original Shakespearean ending into a culturally shaped, humorous rewriting: “Oh treacherous fate! Have you spun your cruel web again? There is still no word from my beloved. Are you still mine, or already dead?” (Bağışgil).
Verona Çıkmazı reflects the cultural shift of the 1990s by bridging the gap between the canonical narratives and the sensibilities of a society where aesthetic expectations are constantly reshaped through nostalgia, popular culture, and performative experimentation. Thus, this adaptation transcends a simple Shakespearean reinterpretation; it also embodies a daring metatheatrical experiment, ensuring that the Bard’s narrative can be recanonized through innovative directorial choices and dramaturgical inventions that resonate with contemporary Turkish audiences.
CASE STUDY 5: Gendered Temporalities of Rewriting Othello Through Feminist Spatiotemporal Juxtapositions[12]
Türkiye’s record of intimate partner violence against women is significantly above the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)[13] averages; it has become a much more visible socio-political problem in the country thanks to the labour of feminist and other organizations since late 1980s. WHO data indicate that “38% of women in Türkiye are subject to violence from a partner in their lifetime, compared to about 25% in Europe”(Butler et al.). Another study notes that “one out of every three women in Turkey has been physically abused by her husband”(Altınay and Arat 64). Although statistics related to gendered violence indicate a spike, and physical and sexual abuse are widespread in the country, quantitative sources remain inaccurate because “most women do not disclose their abuse” publicly. This is largely due to social norms that regard gendered violence “as a private family matter in Türkiye” (Yüksel-Kaptanoğlu et al. 2764).
Indeed, Türkiye’s withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention in 2021[14] has also “emboldened perpetrators and increased women’s risk of violence,” leaving women even more vulnerable in this already frail picture (OHCHR, 2022). Amid all this precarity, “women consider the government, local administrations, state institutions, the law, and the courts bearers of significant responsibility in intervening and putting a stop to such violence” (Altınay and Arat 62).
While Türkiye has an established legal framework to protect women and families, continued attention to inter-institutional coordination and more consistent public responsiveness could further realize its full potential and strengthen its effectiveness. There have been serious efforts to contain violence and offer state protection for women through KADES (Women Emergency Support Application), a mobile service application to provide immediate access to law enforcement units in case of violence or threat. However, daily news reports continue to show women being murdered, beaten, and raped, highlighting the persistence of this very disturbing phenomenon in the country. In addition to records of violence, gender disparity threatens women’s equal representation in the country. Türkiye ranks 135th out of 148 countries in the Global Gender Gap Report, according to the UN, highlighting the ongoing precarity of gender representation in practice (World Economic Forum 13).
In a country where the vulnerable status of women under patriarchal pressures needs constant and urgent attention, Shakespeare’s canonical authority once again proves to be an effective means of confronting, challenging, and deconstructing entrenched social issues and stereotypical conventions. As Günekan puts it, Shakespeare’s plays provide
a common ground for addressing certain fundamental cultural and political transformations in modern Turkey, and adapting Shakespeare to the local context is often accompanied by a politically resistant desire to revisit the issues of ethnic difference and political otherness. (1)
Among the Shakespearean canon, Othello stands out for its representation of uncontrolled male jealousy that culminates in the tragic death of an innocent woman.[15] Othello! A Revenge Rehearsal with the Audience is one of the latest experimental plays that grapple with presenting a new perspective on violence against women by blending Shakespearean narratives with the local theatrical repertoire of meddah, Karagöz, and ortaoyunu. As a theatre Professor with expertise in theatre theory, playwright Beliz Güçbilmez is distinguished by her erudition in exploring untapped representations on stage. This perspective certainly adds a new dimension to the play’s search for innovative ways to represent gender and politics on stage. Deniz Başar discusses how Güçbilmez develops her play around a specific deconstructive lens to encourage paradigm shifts:
… this play in particular can be seen as a feminist practice-as-research project that challenges both the normative ways of adapting only Shakespeare’s comedies through traditional performance modalities into narrative plays; but also intervening with the established contemporary forms of narrative theatre in Turkey by putting two women performers center stage as their bodily presence question the inherent gender bias of the form. (“How to Subvert a Patriarchal Tradition” 7)
The play is distinctive in its delivery style. The foyer music entertains the audience with the lively tunes of Ankara Havası (Ankara Tune), a vibrant folk-dance rhythm that radiates raw, unrefined energy characteristic of working-class life. Named after Türkiye’s capital, Ankara, this type of music is “significantly influenced by Central Anatolian culture” and is based on Ankara’s local repertoire, cultural heritage, and identity (Satır 213). This genre is commonly featured on the playlists of distinctly Turkish nightclubs, known as pavyons, where women of various ages dance, sing, and entertain male guests. “Women are at least as influential as music in attracting customers” in a pavyon setting (Satır 234). This music has become incredibly popular across Türkiye, to the point where it has become a significant part of wedding celebrations.
As the play begins, two female actors dressed entirely in white step onto the stage framed by vertical white pieces of fabric that create a minimalist yet dreamlike scenography. The veils serve as a versatile dramaturgical layer as the events unfold in the play. It soon becomes clear that two actors are rehearsing for a low-budget production of Othello.[16] The actors begin by narrating the background of the play, detailing the characters, plot, and initial conflicts. Suddenly, unidentified voices are heard from inside, interrupting the rehearsal. The actors requested that the lights be turned on due to an emergency in the neighboring pavyon where a young girl named Elvan is harshly beaten. From that moment on, the audience is presented with two coexisting narratives: the Shakespearean plot and the one unfolding in the chaotic urban setting of contemporary Türkiye. Through flashforwards and flashbacks, the play shifts between the two distinct landscapes. The actors’ mention of domestic violence reflects local news stories that highlight urgent social issues in Türkiye.
Beliz Güçbilmez’s script often surprises the audience, who expect a standard adaptation of Othello by directly referring to the fact that “[w]omen are exposed to violence in hospital rooms, on the street, at bus stops, in restaurants- everywhere, through acts as brutal as burning, stabbing, dismembering, and acid pouring”(Ünsal). What makes this play unique is its delivery of simultaneous, interwoven narratives on the stage with actors transitioning fluidly between roles and scripts. For example, in the Venetian storyline, Iago tries to manipulate Othello through clever wordplay. This narrative is mirrored in a patriarchal Turkish setting, where İlyas, a janitor, also tries to deceive Mahmut, the owner of the pavyon where Elvan, a young, fragile girl who has left her hometown, is working in almost as a hostage. Ilyas is seeking revenge on Mahmut because he was beaten harshly by him and had his money usurped after failing to pay his debt following one of his overnight stays at the latter’s place. Also, Mahmut chooses Rıza over Ilyas as his worker at the pavyon. As the seeds of revenge are planted, Ilyas – echoing Iago’s manipulations on Othello — seduces Mahmut by suggesting Rıza’s interest in Elvan, who also asks Mahmut to persuade Rıza to rejoin the business at pavyon.
The palimpsestic scenes of the simultaneous unfolding of the tragic fates of two women are carried out through instant role shifts between actors who seamlessly adjust their voices and postures to incarnate the intended characters. When Elvan confesses that she has lost the bracelet given by Mahmut, the tragic fate of Desdemona is paralleled by her in Türkiye, where the infamous object of jealousy—the handkerchief—transforms into a necklace. Also, when the actors halt their rehearsal and engage in a heated argument over the difficulties of performing Othello with two actors, they blame each other for insisting on being involved in such a challenging task. These scenes, along with Hacer’s (Ilyas’s wife), whose unpolished, ordinary jokes try to spark shallow conversations, weave metatheatrical layers into dramaturgy.
The evolving dialogue in Shakespearean Venice and contemporary Türkiye is intricately intertwined, creating a complex narrative where, in the climactic scenes, Othello and İlyas, as well as Iago and Mahmut, find themselves reacting to one another’s storylines as actors simultaneously embody multiple roles. In the meddah tradition, the single storyteller switches between multiple roles through quick changes in voice, idiom, and expression stance, and this structure works like a contemporary meddah show in the play. İlyas and Iago navigate the symbolism of the handkerchief (transformed into a necklace in the contemporary storyline) within the context of their violent patriarchs, leaving the audience in a state of tension between the two overlapping narratives (Fig. 5). This restructuring, where two women actors perform all other characters, including men, throughout the play, creates a unique layer of feminist recanonization. It transcends the typical codes of easy laughter driven by conventional male-to-female crossdressing and pioneers a distinctive feminist comedy that questions patriarchy through female-to-male personification, a rare approach among the other plays explored in this study.
It is also a striking experience to hear Elvan’s Turkish folk song Zeynebim alongside Desdemona’s Willow Song, which signifies a profound contrast between two impending deaths: one rooted in local lament, the other in tragic canon. The inclusion of the Turkish folk song is part of the play’s recanonization process, which facilitates the blending of Western and non-Western traditions and creates a mediation that “escapes… the hierarchical and asymmetrical relation between these canons” (Ergil 25). As the events unfold towards the climax, the white vertical veils hanging from the ceiling to the floor at the upstage are tied together on either side. This arrangement reflects the cross-cultural transition between Venetian and Turkish influences, resulting in an increasing number of knots as the story draws to a close.
Güçbilmez’s powerful depiction of unchecked jealousy and its destructive consequences victimizes both Desdemona in Venice and Elvan in contemporary Türkiye. Her vivid anatomical metaphor illustrates how jealousy infiltrates not only the mind but also invades the entire body, ultimately turning men into murderers:
The poison entered the body through the outer ear. Sound waves caused the eardrum and the three tiny bones in the inner ear—the hammer, anvil, and stapes—to vibrate. These vibrations activated the fluid in the inner ear. However, the effect did not stop there. Whenever he walked and felt his heart swell with love for Desdemona, the poison surged through his body, pumped by his heart each time his feelings grew stronger. (Güçbilmez)
The final scene depicts the tragic demise of two innocent women, situated in spatiotemporally distinct realities. As Othello enters his bedroom and finds Desdemona sleeping, the audience is left with no doubt that Mahmut is also sneaking into his pavyon to see Elvan. Consumed by hatred and driven by unchecked jealousy, Othello grasps Desdemona’s throat with both hands. At the same time, Mahmut is strangling Elvan. The music blends a violin and organ tunes with the Turkish folk instrument saz, creating a tense atmosphere filled with grudge and violence. Othello prepares to smother Desdemona in her bedroom, which is also portrayed as Mahmut’s place, where Elvan waits to be murdered. Two overlapping scenes are seamlessly created through sudden role switches that both actors smoothly click in and out of, primarily by changing idioms and associated vocal effects (The way the two women speak to their male murderers is a genuine linguistic code switch: Desdemona’s “My Lord” for Othello becomes Elvan’s abi (a familiar, respectful address to an older man), conveying vernacular masculinity. As the white linens all turn red with spotlights on them, the sheer tense music leaves Desdemona and Elvan’s helpless bodies – performed by the singular body of the same actress – lifeless on the ground, at the hands of their patriarchs (Fig. 6).
Othello! not only employs innovative adaptive strategies to reinterpret Shakespeare’s tragedy within a culturally localized theatrical framework, but it also delivers powerful cathartic moments designed to raise awareness about violence against women. News of women being brutally murdered by their male partners or acquaintances is, unfortunately, a common headline for the local audience, who once again recognize that bureaucratic lethargy during times of crises “exiles women to unhearable and invisible spaces and prevents them from having their own voices” (Zengin 35).
In my experience of the play, the ending, driven by questions of political and individual activism, left the audience in thoughtful silence, sparking a sense of communal responsibility. As the actors solemnly address the audience, calling them to action, the performance space transforms into a site of collective reckoning: “You can’t plug your ears, you can’t pretend you didn’t see it, you can’t walk away like nothing happened”(Güçbilmez). Distinctive aspects of the play, such as the entertaining foyer music, breaking the fourth wall through banter and bickering, are reminiscent of the meddah’s banter dialogue, which is also a key aspect of ortaoyunu and Karagöz in their opening scenes. This layer of metatheatricality, as illustrated in the proposed ASM structure, is complemented by the rehearsal setting. Watching this performance certainly encourages a sense of activism and self-reflection, serving as a powerful provocation for introspection.
Conclusion
The very fabric of Turkish theatrical traditions is woven with laughter, irony, and satire. This centuries-old legacy remains an essential part of Shakespearean adaptations, regardless of the tragic nature of the original scripts. Turkish Shakespeares have experienced a marked increase in popularity over the past few decades. Istanbul’s stages are a key driving force behind this buoyant, adaptive spirit, thanks to the abundance of performance spaces and strong audience demand. However, this rise in interest in adapting Shakespeare to local stages is attributed not only to a rapid increase in the number of new productions and the opening of new performance venues, but also to the proliferation of innovative theatrical approaches that focus on creating immersive experiences for audiences.
Shakespeare is continuously unstitched and restitched with the very fabric that the Adaptive Stage Matrix (ASM) assembles through local filters (meddah, ortaoyunu, and Karagöz). The final products showcase an intriguing blend of theatrical experience—urgent, subversive, and distinctly local. By focusing on five contemporary Shakespeare productions on the Turkish stage, this study may offer a point of entry into localized Shakespearean practices and suggest an alternative ground for further discussion of their place within the broader adaptation canon in Türkiye.
Endnotes
[1] This analysis is based on the live performance I saw at Moda Sahnesi, Istanbul, Türkiye on 21 July 2024. Directed and adapted by Kemal Aydoğan. Translated by Emine Ayhan. Scenic design: Bengi Günay. Lighting design: İrfan Varlı. Music: Dengin Ceyhan. Choreography: Dilan Yoğun. Stage photography: Orçun Kaya. Dramaturgy: Kemal Aydoğan. Actors: Caner Cindoruk (Othello), Yılmaz Sütçü (Narrator/Lodovico/Montano/the Messenger/Bianca), İlay Erkök (Desdemona), Ahmed Saka (Iago), Mert Şişmanlar (Michael Cassio), Seray Akülker (Emilia), and Mesut Karakulak (Roderigo).
[2] This kind of music refers to largely monophonic Ottoman-Turkish music, which “divides a whole note into nine parts”, unlike “Western classical music, which divides a whole note into two parts” (Başar, “Ways of Listening 82).
[3] The singer offered a repertoire of Turkish art music which sparked close audience attention.
[4] Song title: Oyun Bitti, Composer: İsmet Nedim Saatçi, Lyricist: Bülent Pozan, Release Date: 1969.
[5] Song title: Kıskanırım Seni Ben, Composer: Teoman Alpay, Lyricist: Hikmet Münir Ebcioğlu, Release Date: 1971.
[6] Shakespeare frames Othello with memories of the Ottoman-Venetian War (1570-1573), during which the Ottoman fleet was destroyed at the Battle of Lepanto (1571), not by a storm (as the play suggests), but by the Christian “Holy League.”
[7] It involves the legal or administrative process of appointing a trustee by the court to replace the current management when executives are suspected of involvement in anti-establishment, corrupt, anti-government, or pro-terrorist activities. Here, the political criticism targets the process by which several elected mayors and municipal administrations have been replaced by state-appointed trustees in Türkiye since mid-2010s.
[8] Most recently İstanbul Metropolitan Municipality’s mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu’s case has been a vital issue of Turkish politics since 19th of March 2025.
[9] This analysis is based on the live performance I saw at Baba Sahne, Istanbul, Türkiye on 16 Nov 2024. Produced by Nos Tiyatro. Scriptwriter and director: Esra Bağışgil. Assistant Director: Aslı Samat. Motion Design: Taner Güngör. Music Director: Beste Gül Çınar. Music: Toygun Tosunoğlu. Scenic Design: Ceren Yılmaz. Lighting Design: Ayşe Sedef Ayter. Actors: Ozan Varol (Romeo/Lord Capulet), Esra Bağışgil (Juliet), Adem Yılmaz (Narrator), Tuğçe Özlü Şentürk (Rosaline), Melih Tuma (Paris/Tybalt).
[10] Post-2000s Turkish stages have seen notable adaptations of Romeo and Juliet that redefine the fate of star-crossed lovers within the Turkish context. A brief survey of these plays will offer a quick snapshot of the play’s Turkish afterlives. These include Istanbul State Theatre’s radically adapted production (2010) by director Kemal Başar, who freely modified the Shakespearean script, allowed new role shifts while incorporating local humor and parody (Başar). Istanbul City Theatre’s Tarla Kuşuydu Juliet (2009) is based on Israeli playwright Ephraim Kishon’s convention-bending retelling of Oh, Oh Juliet! which features an absurdist love story in a farce-paced tempo where Shakespeare’s ghost appears to intervene in the unfolding events (Alkan). Directed and adapted by Mert Fırat at Istanbul’s new urban attraction, the theatre house DasDas, Romeo ve Juliet (2021) satirizes the fast-consuming society dominated by social media callousness (Fırat). Meanwhile, the touring production of Juliet and Romeo by Lost Dog, a two-hander directed by British playwright Ben Duke, offers a radical reinterpretation that explores the afterlife of the ill-fated lovers through rhythmic dance and choreography (Duke).
[11] Production photos and videos can be accessed via the official Instagram account here.
[12] This analysis is based on the live performance I saw at Moda Sahnesi, Istanbul, Türkiye on 23 Oct 2024. Directed by Yarkın Ünsal. Script: Beliz Güçbilmez. Produced by: YuStudio. Actors: Meltem Erkutulgu, İpek Sarılar. Dramaturgy: Eylül İdiman. Light Design: Ayşe Sedef Ayter. Motion Design: Orçun Okurgan. Scenic Design: Asya İrem Çevikkaya. Scenic Design: Sedef Çiçekdiken. Scenic Design: Selenay Karaahmet. Music: Cem Kahraman.
[13] Based on OECD’s Violence Against Women data, “a subindex of The Gender, Institutions and Development Database” (GID-DB) 2023. It shows data on the prevalence of intimate-partner violence over a lifetime, attitudes justifying domestic violence, and legal discrimination against violence toward women (OECD).
[14] A Council of Europe treaty aimed at combating violence against women and domestic violence. “It offers a legal framework to protect women from violence and promote gender equality, through legislation, education and awareness raising” (Amnesty International 6).
[15] The modern adaptations of the play in Türkiye highlight its Cypriot setting, an island in the East Mediterranean with significant historical ties to the Ottoman Empire and its current politically divided status. These adaptations also emphasize deconstructive efforts that challenge the masculine dominance grounded in the narrative and aim to raise awareness about gender-based violence and subjugation.
[16] See Ejder (146) for a further insight into how rehearsal as part of a play functions as metatheatricality, helping to negotiate with the authority of the canonical text and weight of the traditional repertoire.
Bibliography
Alkan, Engin, director. Tarla Kuşuydu Juliet. Adapted from Ephrahim Kishon’s Oh, Oh, Juliet! Istanbul City Theatres, 1 Oct. 2009.
Altınay, Ayşegül, and Yeşim Arat. Violence Against Women in Turkey: A Nationwide Survey. Punto, 2009.
Amnesty International. Turkey, Turn Words into Actions. 2021.
Aydoğan, Kemal, director. Othello. By William Shakespeare, Moda Sahnesi, İstanbul, 2024.
Bağışgil, Esra, director. Verona Çıkmazı. By William Shakespeare, Nos Tiyatro, Baba Sahne, İstanbul, 16 Nov. 2024.
Başar, Deniz. “How to Subvert a Patriarchal Tradition? A Feminist Comedy by Beliz Güçbilmez.” Out of the Attic Session of Sex Pan!Cs Conference, October 12-14, 2023, Dublin City University.
———. “Ways of Listening: Maqam Music on the Contemporary Stage.” Music and Sound in European Theatre: Practices, Performances, Perspectives, edited by Tamara Jasmin Quick and David Roesner, Routledge, 2025.
Başar, Kemal, director. Romeo ve Juliet. By William Shakespeare. Istanbul State Theatres, 2010.
Butler, Daren, et al. “Turkey Considering Quitting Treaty on Violence against Women: Ruling Party.” Reuters, 5 Aug. 2020.
Çola, Yılmaz. “Ottomanism vs. Kemalism: Collective Memory and Cultural Pluralism in 1990s Turkey.” Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 42, no. 4, Jul. 2006, pp. 587-602.
Duke, Ben, director. Juliet and Romeo. Lost Dog, Maximum Uniq Hall, Istanbul, 3 Nov. 2022.
Ejder, Eylem. Geri Dönüşüm Dramaturgileri: 2010’lu Yıllar Türkiye Tiyatrosunda Nostalji, Metatiyatro, Ütopya. 2022. Ankara University, PhD dissertation.
Ergil, Başak. “World Classics in Turkish Theatrical Tradition and Back in World Canons: Ferhan Şensoy’s Translational Recanonization Practices.” Söylem Filoloji Dergisi, Feb. 2023, pp. 10–28.
Fırat, Mert, director. Romeo ve Juliet. By William Shakespeare. DasDas, Istanbul, 15 Nov. 2021.
Güçbilmez, Beliz, playwright. Othello! Seyircili İntikam Provası. By William Shakespeare. Directed by Yarkın Ünsal, YuStudio, Moda Sahnesi, İstanbul, 1 Apr. 2023.
Günekan, Melis. Shakespeare and Authority: The Intersection of Theatre, Locality, and Politics in Turkey. 2021. Boğaziçi University, PhD dissertation.
Gürbilek, Nurdan. The New Cultural Climate in Turkey: Living in a Shop Window. Zed Books, 2011.
Karahüseyinoğlu, Murat, director. Venedikli Tacir. By William Shakespeare. Öteki Tiyatro, Moda Sahnesi, Istanbul, 24 Oct. 2024.
———. personal interview, 4 Jul. 2025.
Kıraathane İstanbul Edebiyat Evi. “Othello – Caner Cindoruk, Kemal Aydoğan.” YouTube, 10 Feb. 2024.
Matz, Robert. “Slander, Renaissance Discourses of Sodomy, and Othello.” The Johns Hopkins University Press, vol. 66, no. 2, 1999, pp. 261–76.
Most Production. “Sezen Aksu & The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.” YouTube, 2016.
OECD. “Violence Against Women.” Gender, Institutions and Development Database (GID-DB), 2023.
OHCHR. “Türkiye: Stemming Tide of Violence against Women and Girls Should Be Priority, Says UN Expert.” United Nations, 27 Jul. 2022.
Sanders, Julie. Shakespeare and Music: Afterlives and Borrowings. Polity, 2007.
Satır, Ömer Can. Yeni Ankaralı Müzik Anlayışı ve Eğlence Pratiklerinin Dönüşümü. 2014. Istanbul Technical University, PhD dissertation.
Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire. Columbia University Press, 1985.
Sevengil, Refik Ahmet. Türk Tiyatrosu Tarihi. Alfa, 2015.
Shilvock, Matthew. “Charles Gounod: The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet in Four Beautiful Duets.” Folger Shakespeare Library, 30 Aug. 2019.
Ünsal, Yarkın, director. Othello! Seyircili İntikam Provası. YuStudio, Moda Sahnesi, İstanbul, 1 Apr. 2023.
World Economic Forum. Global Gender Gap Report 2025. 2025.
Yüksel-Kaptanoğlu, İlknur, et al. “What Puts Women at Risk of Violence From Their Husbands? Findings From a Large, Nationally Representative Survey in Turkey.” Journal of Interpersonal Violence, vol. 24, no. 7, 2012, pp. 2743 –2769.
Zengin, Aslı. Sexual Margins: A Study on an Ethnography of “The State” And Women Sex Workers In Istanbul. 2007. Boğaziçi University, MA thesis.
*Burak Urucu is an EFL instructor at the School of Foreign Languages, Istanbul University-Cerrahpaşa, Türkiye. He earned his undergraduate and graduate degrees in English Language and Literature, with a focus on contemporary British theatre. His research centers on contemporary British drama, Shakespeare in performance, and Turkish stage reinterpretations of canonical works, with particular attention to how these productions are shaped by local traditional idioms and theatrical practices. He is a member of the Turkish Shakespeares Project, which aims to promote Shakespeare’s visibility by mapping and reviewing the Bard’s Turkish afterlives and by supporting scholarly research.
Copyright © 2026 Burak Urucu
Critical Stages/Scènes critiques, #33, June 2026
e-ISSN: 2409-7411
This work is licensed under the
Creative Commons Attribution International License CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.
