William Shakespeare's plays are classified as comedy, tragedy, or history. Some of his most memorable --and most often read -- creations provide us with wistful humor, gentle poetry and hilarious slapstick. Some of them survive as unforgettable dramas of compelling depth and gravity. Regardless, he was able to write with unparalleled skill and inventiveness, contributing greatly to our young language. So in what category lies The Merchant of Venice ? I was very surprised to find it is one of Shakespeare's comedies. I had never before read it nor seen it, but after watching this most recent film version I have decided it is neither and it is both. This is one of many questions the viewer must try to answer when coming to terms with what is clearly a perplexing and deeply troubling moral tragedy.<br /><br />The players are introduced quickly, and simply. One of them, firstly, is Venice itself; director Michael Radford filmed the Venetian scenes in the actual city, creating an impressively vibrant, bustling backdrop to the play's proceedings. To this scenery enters the youthful Bassanio (Joseph Fiennes), returning to Venice to see a dear old friend, Antonio (Jeremy Irons). It seems the poor Bassanio has heard of a princess whose father has died and has left to any potential suitors a lottery of sorts. Waiting at the fair lady's island estate are three small trunks, <br /><br />only one of which contains "images of the princess". He who can guess the right one, using only blind intuition and the cryptic teasers written upon them, will be bestowed the father's huge fortune for life. Oh, and his daughter and her eternal love in marriage, I forgot to mention. Here the light comedy of Shakespeare takes over the movie. This farcical plot element drives the story and also fills up much of the film's screen time, as a number of painfully eager opportunists arrive at the island, humorously vying for and failing to earn this very wealthy hand in marriage. But before any of this occurs Bassanio, very much lacking in finances, entreats Antonio to loan him three thousand ducats to pay for the lengthy journey he must take to have his shot at the prize. <br /><br />Antonio, himself nearly penniless, must reluctantly embrace humility by seeking the financial aid of Shylock (Al Pacino), one of countless Jewish usurers who keep the sagging economy afloat yet are scorned and persecuted to no end by the city's zealously Christian majority. Thus they dwell in society's underbelly, and it is here the two borrowers must go. Shylock does not hesitate to remind the two men of a certain incident where Antonio insulted and spat on him in the city market, and he proudly rebukes this man who frankly has a lot of nerve now coming to ask for help. But help him Shylock does. He even erases any kind of interest on the loan, most likely feeling he has no reason to be concerned if Antonio will be able to repay him within three months. Still, Shylock's one contractual demand is a pound of Antonio's flesh, should he renege on their agreement. This is an unsettling request, to be sure, for Antonio and Bassanio as well as for us. But it appears that despite his justifiable pride Shylock does not really anticipate seeing such a gruesome act occurring. <br /><br />So here the dramatic groundwork has been laid. And while the film goes off to explore its gentler side with its love lottery and mistaken identities, there still looms the gloomy prospect of the loan itself. In the end, what will become of this ominous agreement? Meanwhile we are left at turns to explore the true central character of Shylock. Al Pacino has ample dramatic weight to carry here, and he does so with convincing grit and passion. There are times when he is given room for the theatrics we have come to expect from such a colorful actor. But his most impressive scenes are the ones where he internalizes this energy, showing a conflicted personality: honest, sincere, and proud, yet brooding, vengeful and entirely remorseless. This is one of Pacino's most heartfelt performances to date. And while the rest of the cast play their roles creditably and convincingly, it is Pacino who really owns the film -- especially toward the end, when Shakespeare upends this seeming romantic comedy with a wallop of a third act.<br /><br />I shall not reveal much here; all I can say is that it involves the initial loan -- a mighty shoe one expected would drop sooner or later. And does it ever. By the end Shakespeare has raised a host of dilemmas for his audience: seemingly unresolvable questions of faith, morality, law, and mercy are thrown before us through the final scenes, and while by curtain's close the playwright's position may seem clear to some, we are left completely at odds. There are winners and losers in this one, but have the winners earned their spoils with good reason, or have they in a larger sense ended out losing as well? Has virtue been rewarded, or simply flouted? Has justice in fact this time been just? By the play's finish some fates are painfully clear, and unequivocally sealed. But the audience are to be the ones who really decide the verdict for all of those involved. And for some the verdict is still out for the play as well. Comedy or tragedy? The author has cunningly veiled the intense courtroom finale with an ending of light mirth and pat romantic resolutions. Is he saying that all is well that ends well, or is this his final, ironic condemnation? The play's humor serves to set us up nicely for such a heavy crash. And while it is also what unfortunately keeps The Merchant of Venice from achieving the greatness of so many of Shakespeare's other works, it is still engaging, amusing, and thought-provoking beyond measure.