Metamorphoses: A Beautiful, Imaginative Retelling of Greek Myths
Written: Sep 03 '02 (Updated Sep 03 '02)
|
Product Rating:
|
|
|
Pros: Compelling, poignant stories. Visually arresting. Engaging cast of talented newcomers.
Cons: None
The Bottom Line: One of the most creative and enthralling productions currently on Broadway, Metamorphoses manages to convey the power of mythology without any triteness.
|
|
|
| Epicure's Full Review: Metamorphoses |
It has been over a week since I saw Metamorphoses for the second time, and I can still hear the actors’ voices echoing in my head. Certain lines tug at me, causing me to smile, reminding me why my passion for theater is surpassed only by my passion for food and music (although in truth, food and music are also about theater).
Written and directed by Mary Zimmerman, Metamorphoses is based on myths from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Ten stories from Ovid’s work are retold in a way that remains faithful to the original stories, for the most part, but modifies the language and diction to appeal to the audience’s modern sensibilities. Just as Ovid was a master storyteller, so too are the actors in this production, who take turns playing the part of the narrator.
One of the most entrancing aspects of this play is its setting. All of the scenes take place in or near a shallow pool of water. Audience members who have not heard about Metamorphoses will probably be surprised by their initial glimpse of the intimate Circle in the Square Theater on 50th between Broadway and Eighth. The seats form a U-shape around the stage. In the back of the stage is a long rectangular screen that displays a Magritte-like image of the sky. In the middle of the theater is a rectangular shaped pool of water, surrounded by smooth wooden planks. At first glance, the water has a very calming effect on the room – serene, placid, a mysterious shade of midnight blue. Little will prepare you for the tumultuous struggles, emotionally and physically that will take place in this pool as the play progresses. To give you a better idea, in the first row of the theater, which is where my seat was located, there was a maroon hand towel draped over each chair. And yes, you will need it.
Many of the actors in Metamorphoses appear fairly young, and so without artifice that they would have been right at home in a small-town community theater project. I do not mean to imply that they were amateurish, because truly, they held me spellbound the entire performance, but rather, they exuded a freshness and innocence that has become increasingly rare on Broadway. I found it refreshing that Zimmerman selected a cast of talented unknowns to star in her production.
During her acceptance speech at the Tony awards this year (she won for best direction of a play), Zimmerman revealed something very interesting and telling. She said when she creates a work, she first chooses a group of actors to perform in it, and then she writes the parts for each of them. It seems almost backwards, but then I thought about how distinctive each character in the play was. They each had their own voice and their own aura for lack of a better word. It would be hard to pick a “star” because they all shone so brightly. Even more amazing is that though the actors all had multiple roles in the play, each actor seemed ideally suited to every part he or she played. I guess it is one of the benefits of having a writer/director create roles for you.
*Note: A few of the original actors that I saw the first time around have been replaced, but the newer cast members fill their shoes admirably.
Some stories in Metamorphoses are very well known, like the story of Midas, or Orpheus and Eurydice, or Eros and Psyche. Others triggered a vague feeling of recognition within me, like the story of Alcyone and Ceyx, but as the play progressed they came back to me like a fond childhood memory. As someone who spent summer vacations reading and rereading D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths along with other lesser known collections of folklore and myths, I was more than a little intrigued by Zimmerman’s fanciful interpretations of these tales.
In the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, Zimmerman cleverly interposes an alternative parallel take on this tale of an extraordinary musician who loses his bride on their wedding day and travels to the Underworld to reclaim her. In Ovid’s version, the young couple is reunited for one brief moment before Orpheus’ (Erik Lochtefeld) lack of faith dooms him to a life without his beloved. Zimmerman depicts Eurydice (Laura Eason) being gracefully swept away by Hermes (Kyle Hall) as she reaches for Orpheus at that fateful moment. Eurydice whispers a sad farewell as Orpheus looks on helplessly. Take two - Rainer Maria Rilke’s version. (Rilke was the famous German poet who wrote The Sonnets to Orpheus.) This version focuses more on Eurydice as she follows Orpheus back to the world of the living. Eurydice reflects on her inner state:
“She was deep within herself, like a woman heavy with child, and did not see the man in front or the path ascending steeply into life. Deep within herself. Being dead filled her beyond fulfillment. Like a fruit suffused with its own mystery and sweetness, she was filled with her vast death, which was so new, she could not understand that it had happened.”
Eason delivers these lines with such solemnity and wonder that we, the audience are scarcely surprised when we hear Hermes tell her: “He has turned around,” and she replies: “Who?” There is a beautiful rhythm to her speech, a certain lyrical flow to her words that entranced me.
In contrast to the poetic quality of Orpheus and Eurydice, the story of Phaeton is told using very colloquial speech, interspersed with slang. For those of you who may not be familiar with the myth, Phaeton is the mortal son of the Sun (Helios in mythology, but Apollo in this play). Feeling neglected and needing some proof of his father’s love, Phaeton visits Apollo and obtains Apollo’s promise to grant him a favor. What does he ask for? To drive his father’s chariot and light up the world. Sadly, the headstrong Phaeton overestimates his own abilities and fails miserably.
In the play, Zimmerman frames this story in terms of a counseling session at a therapist’s office. Phaeton (Doug Hara), wearing sunglasses and floating on a yellow rubber raft in the center of the pool, complains to his therapist (Lisa Tejero) of the social hardships that he has had to endure due to his father’s absence in his life. He tells her of his journey to see Apollo (Erik Lochtefeld) and of Apollo’s promise to him, which prompts him to ask for the reins to the chariot, only this Phaeton says: “Give me the keys to your car. I want to drive it myself across the sky. It’s my turn. You promised. I want to light the world today.”
The spotlight now shifts to the therapist, who assumes the role of both the narrator and the interpreter: “The father, or his substitute, must be assured, before he transfers the symbols of adult vocation, that the son no longer is operating from infantile complexes-complexes that might dangerously redirect his new task through the unconscious promptings of self-aggrandizement, personal preference, or even resentment.”
Rather than being spoken, Apollo’s lines are all sung in a style reminiscent of Gregorian chants, which draws quite a few laughs from the crowd. All of the actors here embody their roles perfectly. Hara renders a spot-on performance as the petulant, little rich boy, craving recognition and public adoration. Tejero delivers a tremendously funny satire of the psychiatry profession, and Lochtefeld has a soulful presence that reverberates through his voice, his gaze and his gestures. I do not think it a coincidence that Lochtefeld was cast in some of the most poignant stories of the play – like Orpheus and Eurydice, Alcyone and Ceyx, and another of my favorites, Baucis and Philemon.
Baucis and Philemon is the classic Good Samaritan story. Zeus and Hermes, dressed as beggars, came down to earth one night to test the boundaries of human compassion. They knocked on the doors of the rich and poor alike, but no one would grant them shelter. Then finally, they arrive at the very humble abode of an elderly couple, Baucis and Philemon, who greeted them like long lost family members, showering them with hospitality. To reward their kindness, the gods promised to grant Baucis and Philemon any request they asked. After careful consideration, Baucis and Philemon decided that their greatest wish was to die at the same moment, so as to never be without each other.
Zimmerman does little to vary this lovely tale, no clever retellings or modernizations. I think the heartfelt simplicity of this story is what makes it so powerful and moving. I found the narrator’s parting words to be deeply affecting:
“Walking down the street at night, when you’re all alone, you can still hear, stirring in the intermingled branches of the trees above, the ardent prayer of Baucis and Philemon. They whisper: Let me die the moment my love dies. They whisper: Let me not outlive my own capacity to love. They whisper: Let me die still loving, and so, never die.”
The above stories are just a sampling of the marvelous work that Zimmerman does with these age-old tales. Her imaginative use of lighting and water surprised and enthralled me. The fierce battle between Ceyx and the sea as he struggles to survive for the sake of his dear wife Alcyone. The mad clawing at the water by Erysichthon as he slowly loses grip of reality, consumed by a hunger than can never be sated. The carnal, forbidden loveplay between Myrrha and Cinyras as they roll in the pool, abandoning all inhibitions. The sensual candlelight illuminating the water as Psyche approaches the sleeping Eros, holding a candelabra, straining to see his face. Every story in the play involves water. Zimmerman uses water to create moods, express emotions, represent conflict and barriers, and act as a transformative agent.
The pool provides such a compelling backdrop for the stories that other props are scarcely necessary. Other than an imposing, weathered, wooden door through which many characters make their entrance and the projection screen with the image of the sky, there is little else in the way of set design. I found it impressive that Zimmerman used the same sets to tell such different tales. One minute the screen would display an image of the blue sky with the gods standing above and behind the screen to emphasize their divine nature. The next moment the screen would turn fiery red to symbolize the burning depths of the Underworld. The lighting expertly follows the twists and turns of the stories. The entire production is so beautiful and fluid that it will effortlessly coax from you a vast range of emotions, yet you will hardly know when one began and the other ended.
Both sets of audiences with whom I saw Metamorphoses gave it an enthusiastic standing ovation at the end. I would recommend it for all audiences although I would caution against bringing young children due to some adult subject matter (incest in story of Myrrha) and nudity (the story of Eros and Psyche opens with Eros walking completely naked and blindfolded into the center of the pool). Other than that, I believe this immensely entertaining and thoughtful play would be embraced by all viewers.
*Tip: Although regular price tickets for all seats in the intimate theater are $75 each, there is a limited number of $35 tickets that go on sale daily as soon as the box office opens. The $35 seats are a great bargain. They are full-view, first-row seats. The only downside: you will get splashed, especially if you are sitting on the right side of the theater. At least the theater provides you with towels.
Recommended:
Yes
|
|
|
|
Epinions.com ID:
Epicure
|
 - Top 500 |
|
Location: New York, NY
Reviews written: 88
Trusted by: 100 members
About Me:
I generally avoid temptation....unless I can't resist it.
|
|
|
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.