Did you wake up this morning just a little bit too happy? Do you need a downer to provide balance to your far too cheerful life? If schoolwork and the creeping approach of the dreary winter months have done little to curb your sunny disposition and unquenchable optimism, save yourself from the dirty vengeful looks of your roommates by seeing Nomadic Theatre’s latest production, The Trojan Women.
Do not assume that such gloominess implies a less-than-quality production. The Trojan Women is a tragedy in the true sense of the word; there are no happy endings. Sure, the guy gets the girl in the end-or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that many guys get many girls-but in the club-the-girl-over-the-head-and-drag-her-away-kicking-and-screaming sort of way.
In Shakespeare’s tragedies, the bad guy usually gets his come-uppance in the end, but in The Trojan Women playwright Euripides doesn’t let the audience off so easy. As is often the case with wars and with life in general, there is no real clear-cut right or wrong.
The play opens with a view of the ruined Troy, little more than a smoldering tomb for the many soldiers who died there. The set is sparsely adorned, with one blood-spattered column standing in a corner. Poseidon, played by Michal Slaby (CAS ‘04), looks on, and utters morosely, “I am a tired old god in an old tired world.” The adrenaline of combat and the confidence of victory have long since shamefacedly departed the scene, leaving only death and suffering behind.
Athena, played by Ashley Kay (CAS ‘04), joins Poseidon with her younger blood still boiling, as the same men who once held her favor have desecrated her temple. With a voice filled with authority and burning anger, Athena demands that she be allowed to avenge these wrongs by leading the departing Greek boats astray. With the authentically disconsolate tone of a god whose children have forsaken him, Poseidon sadly acquiesces in the end.
If you thought that was a tad depressing, just wait ‘til these Trojan women really get started. Enter Hecuba, played by Sarah Krokey (CAS ‘06), and her chorus (Amy Bozzo, CAS ‘04; Courtney Burten, CAS ‘06; Sarah Baird, SFS ‘07). Hecuba’s husband, the king of Troy, is dead, as are her sons. Her daughter Cassandra has been raped by the mythically massive Greek soldier Ajax, and there is not much hope that her other daughters will fare any better.
Proclaiming in anguish that “a man’s eyes in the street are like a knife in the night,” Hecuba herself is not out of such danger. It’s been a bad few days. When the Greeks decide they will take the women of Troy as slaves, it becomes clear it will be a long time before the women see the sun again.
What follows is the women’s painful but profound exploration of how to maintain any semblance of dignity or freedom while being divvied up and sorted like cattle. Hecuba and her chorus are joined by Cassandra, played by Katie Einspanier (SFS ‘05), who adequately portrays a shell-shocked young girl dancing the line between vengeful sanity and hysterical madness.
Later, Kat Cox (CAS ‘04) appears as Andromache, and adroitly combines weary resignation and agony. She is ordered to give up her son to death and then must go to the bed with her husband’s killer. Whew. Aspersions are relentlessly cast at men in general, and as a member of said gender, I couldn’t help flinching guiltily under the inflamed diatribes.
The Trojan Women poses the following challenge for any performer: How do you maintain a believable face of grief for the duration of a two-hour play? Krokey’s performance as Hecuba, in particular, stands out. It is doubtful that any member of the cast could hold the audience’s heart in hand the way she does. Other members of the cast would do well to try to pry the secret from her.
With intermittent displays of stronger emotion, Hecuba’s mourning chorus is at best slightly unhappy. The remaining menfolk in the production, the youthful soldier Talthybius (Adam Aguire, CAS ‘06) and Helen’s husband Menelaus (John Seber, CAS ‘06) do a passing job. Kristen Krikorian (CAS ‘04) is convincing in her role of Helen, a manipulative snake, earning little of our sympathy.
The set serves as little more than a place for the characters to stand (or collapse in anguish), and don’t expect a lot of eye-candy as far as props go. But while the visuals are nothing to rave about, stick around during the intermission for a treat courtesy of sound designer Chris Hajduk (CAS ‘04). In an artfully spliced recording, ancient tragedy meets contemporary drama. It features contemporary poets Sylvia Plath and Allen Ginsburg, among others, and their personal sense of tragedy.
The Trojan Women offers many poignant speeches and a few great performances. I wouldn’t bring the friend whose dog just died or the one who’s just getting over a break-up . You can, however, bring her back a few choice quotes that she can use on her former significant other. One option is Hecuba’s proclamation that “a bored beautiful woman is a monster.” Perhaps the women would prefer the Plath-esque, “I am marching over the cobblestones as though they are the heads of men.” Bitter, depressed, or alarmingly calm, you can glean wisdom from these women.
