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Thyestes
By Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Translated by Caryl Churchill
Produced by Court Theatre
5535 S. Ellis Ave
Chicago, IL
Tickets: 773-753-4472 or www.CourtTheatre.org – $38 to $54
Wed./Thur. at 7:30, Fri. at 8:00, Sat. at 3:00 and 8:00, Sun. at 2:30 and 7:30
Running time is 70 minutes with no intermission
Through October 21th
Two Brothers’ Lust for Power Defies Comprehension
Court Theatre’s production of Thyestes marks the return of nationally acclaimed director Joanne Akalaitis to Chicago and features a mostly Equity cast with enormous talent and a strong feel for the play. Nonetheless, Thyestes is a show that is difficult to like. By “difficult” I mean that it requires effort to like it, not that the show is unlikeable. It is a classic Greek legend that was turned into theatre by the Roman playwright Seneca. It is a bloody, horrifying spectacle that is so truly awful as to shock and disgust even the most desensitized among the audience…the one’s willing to put out the effort to follow the tale, anyway.
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Caryl Churchill’s lauded translation of Seneca’s play naturally features a lot of stilted language that is foreign to contemporary ears. Perhaps revealing more about myself than is seemly for a reviewer, I have to note that considerable conscious effort and attention were required to get into the play. Shakespeare is that way for me, too, sometimes, but however much Seneca may have influenced the Bard, Shakespeare he is not and the dialogue is downright tedious too much of the time. The Roman play also lacks the direct meddling of the human-form gods that usually moves Greek tragedy along while providing the relief of the occasional chuckle or two. There is nothing to laugh about in Thyestes. Akalaitis has rooted the story squarely in the roots of the play, Rome at its bloodiest. If the point is to shock, it succeeds, but one must ask why this vehicle for this message when we live in a world with a plethora of contemporary atrocities that are so much more accessible and equally poignant.
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The publicity for Thyestes describes the show as a “legacy of tragedy that echoes through the ages.” Akalaitis uses some beautifully shot video portraying Thyestes as a modern middle class dad reading stories to and playing with his sons in a park in order to connect to modernity. While the video is engaging, I cannot make the connection. Thyestes (James Krag) and his brother Atreus (Mick Weber) are so power hungry that they cannot simply relax at the Vineyard or Kennebunkport, as today’s kings would, and share the throne and power jointly bequeathed to them. The former has chosen to steal the latter’s wife, casting him out for an unspecified time that occurs prior to the opening scene of the play. As the curtain goes up, it is Atreus who has retaken the throne and exiled Thyestes to a life of abject poverty (the middle class dad with the kids and the van in the video). The play is the story of Atreus’ revenge. Taking back the throne is not nearly enough; Atreus must feign forgiveness in order to trap Thyestes and his young nephews, thus providing the opportunity to serve up the young princes to their father in a succulent stew. Weber and Krag are clever in their portrayals of the rotten siblings and the magnetic 12-year-old Connor Hernandez is splendid as Young Tantalus, the only one of Thyestes’ sons the audience gets to meet prior to their unfortunate gastronomic demise. The serving of the stew with its huge tender filets is a breathless theatrical moment that proves the talent of director and cast.
In fact, the entire cast delivers standout performances. Lance Stuart Baker is super as the pain-racked ghost of Thyestes’ and Atreus’ grandfather Tantalus, whose evil serving up of the boys’ father to the Greek gods began the peculiar family culinary obsession. Wandachristine is absolutely perfect as the various furies sent to torture the men of this awful tribe, as are a trio of narrators: a chanting, signing, singing chorus (Scott Baity, Jr. and Elizabeth Laidlaw) and a messenger (Wilson Cain III) who recounts to the gods the off-stage murder and slow roasting on a spit of the young princes. Cain was so engaging recounting the horrific murder that it occurred to me that he could have just told us the tale in about ten minutes and let us move along.
In spite of the powerful performances and the master theatrical craft, I am left with the question, “Why this play?”. My tolerance for this sort of intellectually snobbish and elitist theatre is greater than most people’s, but I cannot imagine why Akalaitis would put such resources into this show.
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Randy Hardwick
randyontheglobe@yahoo.com for comments
Date Reviewed: September 30, 2007
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