SYNOPSIS

Part 1

In Venice, Antonio and the merchants’ guild he leads prepare to send a trading ship as far as India, hoping to secure financial independence from Shylock, the powerful chairman of a vast trading firm who dominates both economy and politics. Shylock privately proposes a deal, but Antonio, president of the merchants’ association, refuses.

Bassanio, Antonio’s close friend and sworn brother, confides that he has fallen in love with Portia of Belmont and needs 3,000 ducats to win her hand. Since Antonio’s wealth is tied up in the India venture, he reluctantly turns to Shylock for a loan. At first Shylock refuses, but then seizes the opportunity: he agrees on the condition that Antonio pledge one pound of flesh from his chest should he fail to repay on time. Antonio accepts, and Bassanio departs for Belmont with Gratiano.

Soon, word arrives that Antonio’s ship has wrecked and sunk at sea. When Antonio pleads with Shylock for help in rescuing the missing sailors, Shylock coldly reminds him of the looming due date instead. Meanwhile, in Belmont, Bassanio passes the test set by Portia’s late father — choosing the modest, meaningful jewel from among seven boxes — and wins Portia’s heart. Their joy, however, is cut short when news arrives that Antonio’s life is at risk.

Part 2

Antonio is seized by Shylock’s men and put on trial for failing to repay the loan. Portia and her maid Nerissa try to seek help from Portia’s uncle, a renowned lawyer. Bassanio rushes back, offering to pay double, even triple the debt, but Shylock demands strict adherence to the contract — one pound of Antonio’s flesh.

In prison, Shylock attempts to persuade Antonio to surrender control of the merchants’ guild in exchange for his life. Antonio furiously refuses. The trial begins under a judge secretly allied with Shylock. A lawyer sent by Portia defends Antonio but appears to lose the case. As Shylock prepares to cut the flesh from Antonio’s chest, the lawyer appeals that he may take flesh but not a single drop of blood. The judge dismisses the argument and closes the court, leaving Antonio on the brink of death.

At the last moment, sailors from the wrecked ship return alive. Tomaso reveals proof that the disaster was caused by Shylock, presenting the headband of Shylock’s man, Marco, found aboard the ship. Confronted, Marco confesses, and the judge orders the arrest of Shylock and his followers.

As Bassanio thanks the lawyer and his assistant, Portia and Nerissa reveal their true identities, to the astonishment of all. Bassanio and Portia are joyfully reunited, while Gratiano and Nerissa also declare their love. The two couples marry with the blessings of Venice. A new merchant ship is launched, setting sail toward a brighter future.


REVIEW

A genre-defying Changgeuk adaptation of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice — melding traditional Korean storytelling with contemporary musical theater aesthetics. This was not a Western musical, but it used a musical language of its own to achieve powerful emotional expression. A unique hybrid that reaffirmed Changgeuk’s artistic vitality and global relevance.

Though rooted in Korea’s traditional opera form Changgeuk, this production boldly crossed genre boundaries, blending amplified vocals, modern rhythm, Korean traditional instruments, and Western theatrical structure. To call it simply “traditional” would miss its scope; to label it a “musical” would ignore its deep cultural heritage. Simply put, it was Changgeuk meeting contemporary musical theater — and standing among the most artistically complete performances I’ve seen in recent months.

The music evoked surprising tonal colors — at times folk-like, at times modal, at times unexpectedly light or syncopated. Unlike pansori, it didn’t rest solely in minor scales or heptatonic modes. Its structure and feel reminded me of The Lion King — a ritual-based stage work that builds a new musical grammar from traditional foundations. The instrumental soundscape seemed anchored in white keys: modal, open, and soothing. Synths, electric pianos, and guitar rarely strayed into dissonance, instead creating a tonal field where singers bent notes and stretched phrasing freely. It felt like a modern reimagining of pansori over ambient folk-rock — simple, but incredibly effective.

Vocals, too, broke expectations. In several scenes, the lines erupted into a percussive, almost rap-like delivery — not Western belting, but rhythm-driven chanting amplified with attitude. One moment lyrical, the next spitting fire, it left no room for stillness. At one point, a line dropped — “Three thousand ducats, no cuts(더컷 걱정 그만 컷, 친구 걱정 그만 컷)” — and it landed like a Hamilton-style mic drop, swift and sharp. It was moments like this that made the show unmistakably theatrical while still honoring its Changgeuk roots.

The National Theater even sold a program book with the full script, as in opera houses. The ensemble filled the stage not only vocally but choreographically, with layered symbolic staging. The cast wore microphones — essential, since Changgeuk singers do not project like opera singers. Amplification gave them range to mix pansori resonance with modern stage delivery.

Among the performers, Kim Junsu excelled as Shylock, a moneylender consumed by greed and the hunger for power. From his first phrases, I felt I had discovered a jewel — his Shylock was chilling in his desire to dominate Venice’s merchants. Antonio, played by Yu Taepyungyang, and Bassanio, played by Kim Su-in, both brought superb singing and presence. Eun Kyung-min as Portia, whose voice I first recognized as orthodox pansori (though my pansori knowledge is meager), sang with vigor, weaving fast and slow rhythms into joyful expression. Portia’s maid Nerissa provided comic relief, yet delivered with such skill that she earned full respect. Even the judge, who bent under Shylock’s power, contributed to the sense of moral weight that permeated the court scenes.

In Korean performance categories, Changgeuk often gets lumped under “musical” or “opera” for lack of a dedicated genre label. But works like this deserve global attention on their own terms. If you are open to genre-blurring work that resonates deeply yet feels unfamiliar, this is the kind of production to watch for. The National Changgeuk Company’s Merchants of Venice may not be a musical in the Western sense — but its impact, orchestration, and stagecraft rivaled the most resonant musical theater I’ve seen in recent months. With Korean traditional roots and bold contemporary expression, this Changgeuk felt both strange and deeply satisfying.

As I was leaving the theatre, I realized that all I wanted was to hear more of Kim Junsu. His versatility, tone, and rhythm kept ringing in my ears. On my way home, I searched his name and discovered he is often called a “Changgeuk idol” — and rightly so.