In a rare stage appear ance — his first at the Delacorte Theater — Al Pacino is affectingly understated (for Al Pacino). On the whole, the Shakespeare in the Park production that just opened is zippy and entertaining — downright frothy, at times.
Which is great, except that the play is “The Merchant of Venice.” Though technically a comedy, it’s one where the dark cloud often obscures the silver lining.
After all, the story takes place against a background of anti-Semitism, and a key plot point involves a Jewish moneylender named Shylock (Pacino) who demands a pound of flesh as payment for a bad loan.
Pacino isn’t quite as modestly poignant as he was in a 2004 film version. Still, he hits humble grace notes, especially in the end, when he totters about, a broken man.
This Shylock is both embattled and worn down by years of prejudice. When his own daughter betrays him, the cup of his resentment runneth over and he lashes out.
Yet Shylock isn’t the dominant figure in a production that places almost all its chips on lovebirds Bassanio and Portia, played by the enormously sympathetic Hamish Linklater and Lily Rabe.
As written, these two aren’t wholly nice: He’s a ne’er-do-well who needs to borrow a heap of ducats to court heiress Portia in style; she isn’t above some blithe bigotry after the Prince of Morocco tries to woo her.
But the text has been slightly edited, and Portia’s comment about the Prince’s complexion is gone, making her free to just be cool, beautiful and smarter than all the men put together. And it’s hard to hold anything against Linklater’s shaggy Bassanio.
The emphasis on this couple is just one of the ways director Daniel Sullivan (who helmed “Twelfth Night” at the Delacorte last year) steered this “Merchant” on a kinder, gentler path. He’s sanded out the play’s more unsavory edges, but they’re precisely what gives this controversial work its often cruel depths. You lose some, you lose some.
Framed against Mark Wendland’s austere wrought-iron set, the fleet-footed cast is overall strong and makes the language flow in a very accessible manner. (They have practice: Except for Pacino and Rabe, they’re also doing “The Winter’s Tale” on alternate nights.) Of particular note are Jesse Tyler Ferguson as the agreeably bumbling servant Gobbo, and Max Wright as a very funny Prince of Arragon.
“All that glitters is not gold,” goes one of the play’s most famous lines. Indeed: This appealing production glitters, but without weight, it’s merely gold-plated.
elisabeth.vincentelli
@nypost.com