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A CurtainUp Review
An Oresteia
Agamemnon by Aiskhylos. . .Elektra by Sophokles. . .Orestes by Euripides By Elyse Sommer
\ The decade long Trojan War and its devastating effect on the Greek commander Agamemnon and his family inspired Greece's greatest playwrights—Aiskhylus, Sophokles and Euripides. It was Aiskhylus who in 485 B.C. made the fullest meal from this bloodsoaked saga with his Oresteia trilogy. Now, poet and translater Anne Carson has married the three playwrights' takes on the ill-fated Greeks with her own Oresteia. Carson's An Oresteia begins with Agamemnon's downfall, not at the hands of enemy soldiers but the wife who can't forgive that he sacrificed their daughter to turn the tide (literally) for the seemingly endless war and thus murders him and for good measure also finishes off the concubine he brought back from the war. Instead of letting Aiskhylus continue the epic story, Carson bases her next installment, Elektra, on the work of Sophokles. She concludes with Euripides' Orestes which is still overhung by murders most foul, but, courtesy of the God Apollo, somehow connects us to this cycle of vengeance with an almost conclusive ending, even though the Trojan War and its battles on land, sea embody the difficulties of ending conflicts too bitter for any sort of lasting truce. Agamemnon, as well as the other characters in Carson's ambitious triptych are tagged with their original Greek names (as are the Agamemnon and Elektra authors— and to avoid confusion I've used her spelling throughout this review). While there's plenty of heightened language, the dialogue in this translation has a distinctly modern, often trendy, flavor. Carson deliberately blurs the metaphorical and the literal. She has Klytaimeestra order her entourage to spread out a flowing red cloth for returning husband, a literal sign of honor, but a symbolic omen of her intentions. She has Agmamnon pooh-pooh this honor, as he declares himself to be a mere mortal only to follow it up with Donald Trump-like bravado: ". . .who needs red carpets—my fame shouts aloud. . . If I keep this rule, I'll be okay." Classics purists may find that this blending of ancient Greek with more familiar speech patterns makes these descendants of the Gods too earthbound for grandeur, especially when they lapse into expressions that seem to aim for laughs — for example: Pylades' referring to Helen of Troy as "that weapon of mass destruction" . . . Elektra wondering how it is that some people like her aunt Helen, who she says wrecked her and a whole generation of Greeks "manage to come out on top every time." While opinions may vary about the more jargon-y elements of Carson's translation, there's no question that it has given Classic Stage an opportunity to create quite a theatrical event. The triptych has been divided into two parts, so that it can be seen on two separate occasions or in one session with two intermissions. . Riccardo Hernandez has created a highly dramatic blood-spattered upstage wall with a doorway and sliding panels to visually connect the multi-authored trilogy. Two members of the Chorus who relate Agamemnon's backstory, appear like maintenance workers hired to clean off the blood. That upstage design envelops the side seating sections which are often a sightline problem at this theater, but even more so in this production. Since the Greeks love water, Hernandez has also provided a pool (yes, there's a bathing suit scene-- shades of some of Mary Zimmerman's wonderful Greek myth productions). It's a mock pool, not filled with water. Nevertheless, having actors at various times more or less walk on water is, to put it mildly, rather odd. No quibbles about the contributions of costumes by Oama Botez-Ban, lighting by Maruti Evans and Christine Frederickson's original music and sound to the production's look and sound. Except for Stephanie Roth Haberle, who plays Klymenestra with queenly grandeur in both Agamemnon and Elektra, the actors play a variety of roles. As the chorus changes its look and style from play to play, so the actors assume different personas. Christopher McCann plays a watchman as well as a Chorus Man in Agamemnun, Klymenestra's paramour Aigisthos in Elektra and then slips seamlessly into the role of Klymenstra and Helen's father Tyndareos in Orestes. Some of the double casting is especially apt, as having Steve Mellior portray the title character in Agamemnon and then his brother Menealos in Orestes. Erik Dyer is a humble guard in the first part and ends up as Apollo the god of light and law in the second. Some of this double casting has mixed results; for example, Mickey Solis's Orestes is less nuanced in Elektra than when he's the title character in Part 2. If all this sounds confusing, it is, especially in Agamemnon with its lengthy speeches. However, it works pretty well since the cast overall goes with the flow of the translator's and directors' vision. And if Ms. Haberle seems to chew a bit more than her share of the scenery, she does so with eloquence, which is also true of Annika Boras who starts out as a Chorus Woman and then metamorphoses into Elektra in the Sophokles and Euripides plays. Seeing all three plays in one day, as I did last Sunday, is something of an endurance and commitment test (5 hours if you count the intermissions). I do think it makes for a more unique experience and is likely to give theater goers a better understanding of these playwrights' viewpoints as well as the shifts in the translator's voice and the different directorial approaches (CSC's artistic director Brian Kulick and Gisela Cardenas co-direct Parts One, and long time collaborators Paul Lazar and choreographer Annie-B Parson, take charge of Orestes). That said, each of the two parts stands on its own so you don't necessarily have to see both. If you like your Greek tragedy at its most modern and experimental, and with plenty of laughs to leaven the heavyness of all that strum and drang, go for Orestes. It's the least often produced of these House of Atreus dramas and, as staged by Lazar and Parsons, it features a lot of the techniques that have made the Wooster Group the darling of audiences with a taste for the avant-garde. If you're not sure whether the story of children who are likely to be stoned for having murdered their mother and father and that sing and dances is likely to annoy or amuse you, consider this excerpt from one of Elektra's wry monologues: . . .it seemed to Orestes and me As I stated at the top of this review, the God Apollo (quite a promotion from humble guard for Eric Dyer) manages to arrange for an ending that seems to dot all the i's and cross all the t's with a bit of matchmaking. At any rate, this brings all the actors on stage so that it all feels like an all's well that ends well finale. That's as much of a happy ending as you can expect for these vengeful, bloodthirsty Greeks.
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