| . | 08/25/2009
THE BACCHAE Shakespeare in the Park
By: Michael Patrick Hearn
Jonathan Groff and Anthony Mackie in a scene from The Bacchae . (Photo credit: Joan Marcus)
The ancient Greeks had the advantage on modern audiences. They were conveniently familiar with the stories and conventions of their theater. They also believed in their gods. Like most Greek tragedy, the drama of Euripides' disturbing The Bacchae relies largely on a series of monologues. When King Pentheus refuses to recognize his cousin Dionysus as the son of Zeus and worship him as a god, all hell breaks loose in Thebes. An earthquake razes the palace and consumes it in fire. Bewitched by the thwarted god, the women desert the city to revel in secret Dionysian rites. Pentheus is so appalled by what he has heard that he disguises himself as a female to infiltrate the Bacchantes. Of course all of the most tantalizing action occurs offstage rather than on. Therefore the actors must be compelling in delivering monologues on these unseen events. Those appearing in Nicholas Rudall's translation of The Bacchae currently at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park on the whole were not.
There was no menace in Jonathan Groff's Dionysus. Clad in blue jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket with what looked like a lipstick smear on his left cheek, Broadway's current It Boy played the god like a petulant frat boy. He was no match for cross-dressing Alan Cumming, who appeared in The National Theater of Scotland's over-the-top production a little over a year ago at Lincoln Center. Benign and a bit bumbling George Bartineff never suggested for a second that Cadmus was once one of the great heroes of Greek mythology. The usually dynamic André de Shields was wasted as the blind prophet Teiresias. The absurdity of dressing noble Anthony Mackie as Pentheus in Malibu Barbie drag briefly threatened to reduce the tragedy to farce. With his carefully groomed goatee, Mackie looked no more like a woman in a dress as out of one. The snickering from the audience did not help. Ricco Sisto as the messenger briefly broke the drowsy haze with his tale of brutal murder witnessed outside Thebes.
The chorus in a scene from The Bacchae. (Photo credit: Joan Marcus)
A play is in trouble when the chorus provides the outstanding performance. Decked in Christo-colored Balinese outfits and choreographed by David Neumann, the women spoke, sang, danced, gestured. They kept things lively whenever on stage. They commanded attention. It was also refreshing to see them cast for variety in size, age and color rather than to fit a certain preconceived type. After all they represented all women of Thebes. They were the whole show.
Director JoAnne Akalaitis, who did such a fine job in 2007 with Beckett Shorts starring Mikhail Baryshnikov, seemed lost on the vast Delacorte stage. A smaller, more compact venue might have been more advantageous for her vision. She interpreted the play more in feminist terms as a battle of the sexes rather than a philosophical or cultural conflict. Yet the production lacked sensuality. No performer connected with any other. None of the pieces connected. A possible erotic attraction between Dionysus and Pentheus was only winked at. Actors wandered aimlessly on and offstage just to fill in otherwise wide empty space in the background. John Conklin's white bleachers that regressed into ramps defined neither place nor time. A fissure, sometimes lighted blood red, zigzagged through center stage like a gaping wound; but the pool that encircled the set was underutilized.
If the director wanted to distance the audience from the events on stage, she fully succeeded. When Cadmus returns with the mutilated corpse of his grandson, one is revolted rather than shocked by the horror. Joan McIntosh's proud but deluded Agave lacked the passion and authority needed when she displays the bloody trophy of the head of her male victim for all of Thebes to feast on. She should have been fierce. She should have broken hearts when she learns from Cadmus that she has torn her own son to pieces.
Philip Glass' adequate score will add no luster to his international reputation. His overly intense drums nearly drowned out Groff's opening monologue. Jennifer Tipton's lighting failed to intensify the drama. Except for those of the chorus and Pentheus' frock, Kate Voyce's costumes displayed various shades of dull. The production seemed to seek novelty without reason. The tragedy of this Bacchae was that there was no tragedy left.
AUGUST 11 - AUGUST 30
Performances of The Bacchae will be Tuesday through Sunday at 8pm
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