Showing posts with label Greek drama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Greek drama. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Off-Broadway: These Seven Sicknesses

written by Sean Graney, after Sophocles
directed by Ed Sylvanus Iskandar

The most innovative staging in New York right now remounts one of theater's oldest bodies of work. Adapting Sophocles' complete plays, These Seven Sicknesses reimagines some of the most fundamental conventions of theater. Instead of shushing the audience under darkness while seven tragic acts play out solemnly onstage at the Flea, the cast mingles with the audience before the curtain, chatting, relaxing, and offering to fetch wine from the bar. At intermission, they serve dinner (a delicious eggplant curry) as well. By breaking down the conventional separation of stage and house, Sicknesses sets the audience up immediately for a evening of Greek theater that's unorthodox without being alienating.

Beware Greeks bearing eggplant curry?
photo: Laura June Kirsch
The performance itself follows suit with a lively low-tech staging. There's no bearded chorus chanting in unison to a be-togaed Oedipus. Instead, director Iskandar establishes a fast pace under the easygoing atmosphere: while the chorus sings a swinging blues, Oedipus shows his smarts by solving a Rubik's cube. Adaptor Graney has a loose poetic style that includes a great ear for idioms and a winning application of stock phrases. More importantly, he evokes ancient mythical elements without getting stuck in expository mode. As the evening moves from play to Sophoclean play, it brings back characters, places, props; Antigone (Katherine Folk-Sullivan, offering the most nuanced performance in the enormous, energetic cast), the Bow of Hercules, the Trojan War make multiple appearances. And so (naturally) does Greek theater's ubiquitous Messenger, who skims in on a sidewalk scooter, dressed like a telegram deliveryman, with news of another tragic offstage disaster.
Over the course of the evening, as the shades of the dead warn their daughters and sons of yet another impending tragedy, the tone darkens slowly like twilight falling. But Sicknesses never loses its sense of imagination. Even in its final act, Iskandar comes up with new theatrical devices for staging Sophocles' plots. His directorial brio matches the energy that Graney brings to Sophocles' work. Every few minutes brings another delightful moment: a clever line-reading, a cunning costume, a fantastic fight scene, a slab of warrior beefcake. The show works superbly from beat to beat, which makes the 5+ hours runtime (including intermissions for dinner & dessert) speed by. It slips in political commentary, offering perspectives on power and stances on waging war without obtruding into the mythic setting. Sicknesses is, quite simply, the sort of mounting of classical work that rekindles a passion for modern theater. It's also a fun party.

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These Seven Sicknesses plays at the Flea, closing on March 4. Tickets? 

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Tuesday, August 25, 2009

The Bacchae (Shakespeare in the Park)

The Bacchae
The Public Theater

August 22, 2009

Euripides (writer)

Joanne Akalaitis (director)


A great production of The Bacchae transforms the theater from a secular stage into a temple dedicated to a primitive god whose only demand is submission. Joanne Akalaitis, a director of alienating theater and a pillar of American experimental drama, should be a good match for the complex, ferocious show. But she delivers a production that's notable mostly for its moderation. The music, by Philip Glass, is all driving drums and pensive horns. And David Neumann's choreography, sign language as much as dance, helps the audience focus on the lyrics of the chorus's long speeches.


But the show's too cool to engage us on a primal level. In the lead, Jonathan Groff makes Dionysis a seductive, slightly sinister presence but he can't handle the transition to vengeful god. The play's climax lies with Joan MacIntosh as the mother and unknowing murderer of the King of Thebes. But after an hour of chilly and remote drama, she plays her scene in hysterics. Her performance is partly the translator's fault too: who could find the emotional truth in a line like “Ah, I cannot look! And yet look I must at what these hands have done”? The Bacchae is a play of intoxicating heat; Akalaitis and company give it a chilly distance instead.


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The Bacchae plays at the Delacorte Theater (Central Park at 80st Street), closing on August 30. Tickets?