If there are two concepts that get more bad press than “Greek melodrama” and “minimalist theater,” I don’t know what they are. Visions of overwraught harpies shrieking as they flounce around a bare stage to the strains of cheesy synth music are enough to make even the strong shudder. But sometimes things rise above their stereotypes, and Mask and Bauble’s final production of the season, Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, is one of them. Directed by Drew Courtney (CAS ‘03), Oedipus is stripped down and intense, and if it occasionally fails to measure up to its burning ambitions, its brightest moments are unadulterated theatrical bliss.
Working with an unadorned stage in the best black box tradition, Courtney creates a somber and ominous mood with minimal costuming, bare feet and a few well-placed spot lights. The concept is clearly “elemental theater,” and it is carried down through the last detail. Supported by a strong ensemble cast, Oedipus tells the story of the king whose desire to “once more bring dark to light” leads him to banishment and ruin with, for the most part, remarkable restraint and depth of understanding.
Courtney and Set Designer Clayton Lord (CAS ‘03) have collaborated to create an atmopsheric and original Thebes-in-ruins for their players. When Oedipus addresses his people, the audience sees his back, his face being projected, press-conference style, onto televisions. The Greek choral numbers are a testament to inventive phrasing, as they bring the poetry of the Fitts and Fitzgerald translation of Oedipus to vivid life. The brief moment where Jocasta offers up prayers to the gods is a small moment of design perfection.
Especially beautiful are the scenes staged as masked pantomime: Oedipus’ departure from Corinth, his meeting with King Laius and his bloody fate are performed by members of the chorus as they are narrated by others. Mask designer Gigi Stoler (CAS ‘04) deserves credit for her haunting creations. Chilling, effective, and at times heart-wrenching, the silent scenes are the best echos of Oedipus’ lament: “If I were truly born to this fate, who could deny the savagery of the gods?”
However, there are a handful of scenes where the understated beauty of the previous scenes is abandoned. When the blind seer Teiresias is summoned to the palace to prophesy, she and Oedipus begin a battle of “tell what you know-no-I-won’t” that, ideally should highlight Oedipus’ desperate and futile quest to avoid his ordained fate. At the very least, it shouldn’t be painful. However, with Amy Bozzo (CAS ‘04) as Teiresias and Gibson Cima (CAS ‘04) as Oedipus howling at each other for a protracted period of time, the scene soon passes from tense to uncomfortable to physically painful (I plugged my ears).
The same problem is evident the scenes with the Greek chorus. The scenes, as noted, are strikingly staged and tightly chereographed, and its clear that a lot of thought has been given to the phrasing and distribution of the lines. However, while the overlap of voices in the chanting throws the poetry of the lines into relief, the decision to have certain words echoed by other members of the chorus obscures makes for an auditory chaos that drowns out the lines that follow.
Costuming, by Caitlin Lowans (SFS ‘03) is spare and serviceable, in keeping with the pared-down ethos of the play. (An exception is Jocasta’s cloak, which swallows her head and makes it looks like she has enormous puffs of tulle growing out of her ears).
The cast, who perform various individual stage roles as well as acting as members of the chorus, are well-rounded and have a nice, intuitive way of relating to each other. Gregg Deehan (SFS ‘04) as Creon, Kat Cox (SFS ‘04) as Jocasta, Marty LaFalce (CAS ‘03) as the Priest, Lord as the Shepard, Lowans as Messenger One and Lauren Spagnoletti (CAS ‘02) as Messenger Two all make nice foils for Cima, who as the tortured king has the showiest role.
The scenes that bookend the play, with the shattered king and the chorus who has told his stories, are emblematic of all that was right about the production: powerful, spare, barefoot?it’s concept theater and Greek melodrama at its best, and it is damn good.
