A bit of Culture...

Othello clambers onto the bed behind his wife and wraps his legs around her. Desdemona looks faintly startled and blinks rapidly.
"My lord?" she says in a quavering voice.
Her lord grabs a pillow – pink with a lacy frill around its circumference and plants it in her face.
Desdemona’s arms and legs flail crazily while Othello looks increasingly anguished and emits increasingly anguished noises, his eyes bulging with psychosis.
Someone bangs on the door and the scene takes on the qualities of a farce.
"I’ll be with you in a minute!" Othello improvises, while his wife, still flailing, still not quite dead yet – a quartet of limbs wagging and waving like an infant trying to master breast stroke.
"Hang on!" teeth bared, Othello renews his pressure on the cushion. Abruptly, Desdomona’s movements cease. There is a brief, startled pause.
"My wife! My wife! What wife? I have no wife!" Othello cries.
His wife adjusts herself on the bed and lies still again.
The audience look at their feet. Someone coughs.
"I’m not familiar with this play." Donald says, sat beside me. "It’s a tragedy, right?"
I nod.
"I think so." I say.
We are in the open air theatre situated behind Darwin’s museum, and have left the promise of the beach markets in order to indulge in a little culture. The production boasts the claim to fame of casting the first Aborginal actor to play Othello. Such a shame that the actor they cast cannot remember his lines and is something of a ham. The first half was redeemed by the actor playing Iago, clearly relishing the role and having the time of his life, but the second act, with the villain largely off stage as his plans come to fruition is a rambling mess. We persevere, the audience alternately amused and embarrassed, we wait for Othello to kill himself so that we can all go home.
"Oooooooh!" he yells, throwing himself around the stage while his fellow cast members step nimbly out of his path. "Aaaaaargh!"
He pulls at his hair.
Cassio, now on crutches after a bizarre looking fight scene which took place earlier at the rear of the stage, follows his progress like a spectator at a tennis match.
Eventually, Othello jumps on the bed and stabs himself. The audience breathe a collective sigh of relief and make a hasty exit to see if the market is still open.