Mighty Morphin Power Maenads:

It looks like Harvard is still stuck in the days of wine and togas. Just as the artistic and unconventional visiting director's version of The Bacchae closes at the Agassiz Theatre, a grandiose production of the same play bursts onto the Loeb Main Stage. As the entire theater community, from performers to playgoers, watches with anticipation and some trepidation, one question still looms on everyone's mind: will the last production taint the response to this show, or will this one overshadow the memories of the last one?

The answer is indeed foggy. While Catherine Walker's Bacchae offered interpretive dance and a unique lesbian twist, the A.R.T.'s grandiose production boasts less interpretation and more explanation of the central plot. Gender roles are returned to their original forms (i.e. Dionysos is male again), which adds intriguing complexities to the play's already-exuding eroticism. There are even a few--gasp--humorous moments found in the new version of this ancient tragedy.

The story of The Bacchae is probably rather familiar to most Harvard students by this point, but a quick summary shall be provided for those who are still confused: Dionysos is angry because the people of Thebes are refusing to worship him. He hypnotizes the town's women into running maniacally wild in the mountains. They are known as the Bacchae. Pentheus, the ruler of Thebes, tries to capture Dionysos in his human form. He also humiliates the god and his female band of helpers, called Maenads. Pentheus's secret desire to watch the lurid actions of the Bacchae is so strong, however, that Dionysos easily tricks him into dressing as a woman so he can observe the possessed women safely. In a cruel twist of divine intervention, Pentheus's own mother, Agave, leads the Bacchae in decapitating him with their bare hands. She returns to Thebes, proud as punch of her actions, but her enraged father Kadmos soon forces the truth before her disbelieving eyes.

As with most productions in the A.R.T., all of the actors are superb. Dionysos himself, played with superhero-like gusto by Michael Edo Keane, entrances the audience from the moment he explodes onto the stage, confidently informing us, "I am the son of God!" Unlike the smirking and leering Winsome Brown '95 (the female Dionysos in the earlier production), Keane demonstrates a rich range of emotions. The audience laughs when he drops self-adoring one-liners, sighs when the Maenad chorus drapes themselves over him, shudders when he hollers in anger. This Dionysos is a creature with genuine power, which makes the foreshadowing of Pentheus's death even darker.

Benjamin Evett is perfect as the borderline-scummy Pentheus. He and his arrogant band of secret service agents, complete with slicked hair and alligator-green suits (and, yes, sandals), really make it easy to hate this pompous leader who mocks his own grandfather. By the time Pentheus succumbs to Dionysos's offer of a chance to watch the Bacchae, and shamefully puts on a dress as the Maenads hoot and catcall, the audience feels little pity towards him. His imminent doom is not a tragedy; it is simply a foolish leader's receiving his just desserts. Yet during the drag scene, as childishly funny as it is, eroticism sparks between the nervous Pentheus (who has given up all his power to resemble a woman) and the smiling Dionysos, who now has complete control over his unsuspecting prey.

Agave, played by Randy Danson, reminds the audience that the people of Thebes are not victims of circumstance--they brought about their own destruction. She acts like a child, not a proud hunter, bouncing on her heels and screaming like a frightened toddler, without even attempting to act like the matronly woman she must have been before her raving Bacchae days. The result is perfect: as with her arrogant son Pentheus, the audience only feels sorry for this nearly-insane woman, rather than deeply empathizing with a noble character of unfortunate circumstances.

Unmatched in the entire production, however, is the delicious comic relief found between Kadmos (Alvin Epstein) and Tiresias (Will LeBow) at the start of the play. One cannot help but love the funny old men as they prepare to dance in the mountains near the Bacchae, particularly Kadmos in his dress straight out of "Prom Night Horror." When they have to, however, both can instantly become powerful leaders on the brink of destruction. LeBow's Tiresias sends chills through the audience with his dark fore-shadowings to the giggling Maenads. Likewise, the perpetually-talented Epstein manages to make his bitter tirade against Agave ring with the pain of a noble ruler disappointing his people, yet he also lashes out in furious anguish at his childlike daughter for the mess she and her disbelieving son have created.

Although they have small roles, the First Guard (Robert Ross), the Second Guard (Dmetrius Conley-Williams), and the silent chorus of Pentheus's guards are also extremely talented. The speaking guards manage to be appropriately funny at otherwise tense moments, while still remaining in awe of the power surrounding them. But the most easily overlooked group of people on-stage, and the ones who deserve the most kudos, are the Chorus. Resembling the love children of Raggedy Anne and Courtney Love, replete with magenta dreads and combat boots, they prove to be an excellent addition overall. The dancing, chanting women have a rich and passionate stage presence, whether interacting with the other characters or weaving the story by themselves. Also, unlike the last production, their explication of events as they happen offstage truly helps the audience understand what is going on.

Physically, the production is minimalist but effective. The stage itself strongly resembles a "Structure" advertisement, but captures the essence of what is considered today as ancient Greece. A constant stream of sparkling confetti falling from one spotlight is distracting at first, but could be interpreted as representing the watchful eyes of the gods. The special effects are nothing short of amazing--the gods' wrath, especially the destruction of Pentheus's house, is truly frightening, and appropriately loud. An excellent lighting scheme also works to create a variety of moods, from raptured to tense to apocalyptic.

One of the factors that most distinguishes this "Bacchae" from the A.R.T.'s version is its emphasis on underlying themes. Because the events are outlined with more clarity, more room is left to ponder the deeper meanings of this mysterious play. The issue of sexuality and gender reversal also arise, although in a different way than Catherine Walker's production intended. Here, Dionysos is a man, which is quite appropriate in the patriarchal society of Greece (and today). He has the ultimate power literally and figuratively; and although they lust after him, the Maenads also sometimes engage in lesbian-ish petting of each other. In addition, a great twist is added to the "Pentheus In Drag" scene as Pentheus is suddenly 'reduced' to becoming another woman drooling over Dionysos. He surrenders his sexual power, and as a result, his political power as well. The mocking of Pentheus in a dress is very childish and reminiscent of third-grade, but effectively creates the mood of sexual tension amidst many role-reversals.

By the end, Dionysos has triumphed over the foolish people of Thebes who did not believe in him. Before she falls into despair, however, Agave argues with the smirking Maenads that she is victorious, too. But who has really lost? The Bacchae are 'empowered,' so to speak, but look at Agave--she loses everything and is destroyed by her so-called 'victory.' At one point in the production, Dionysos smiles and says he loves all humanity except Pentheus, yet an entire city is ruined because some people didn't believe in him. In short, the gods are triumphant, and the people--even the fiendishly independent Bacchae--have to pay the ultimate price.

The A.R.T.'s production of The Bacchae is, quite simply, a great rendition of a classic play that is easy to follow along with, and chock-full of strong actors and clear-cut character roles. There is power, there is destruction, and there are even a few laughs along the way. Move over, Xena, and bacch me up, Maenads--the A.R.T.'s The Bacchae is a triumphant tragedy if there ever was one.Photo courtesy of A.R.T.SOME GUYS GET ALL THE CHICKS: Up close and personal at 'The Bacchae.'

Agave, played by Randy Danson, reminds the audience that the people of Thebes are not victims of circumstance--they brought about their own destruction. She acts like a child, not a proud hunter, bouncing on her heels and screaming like a frightened toddler, without even attempting to act like the matronly woman she must have been before her raving Bacchae days. The result is perfect: as with her arrogant son Pentheus, the audience only feels sorry for this nearly-insane woman, rather than deeply empathizing with a noble character of unfortunate circumstances.

Unmatched in the entire production, however, is the delicious comic relief found between Kadmos (Alvin Epstein) and Tiresias (Will LeBow) at the start of the play. One cannot help but love the funny old men as they prepare to dance in the mountains near the Bacchae, particularly Kadmos in his dress straight out of "Prom Night Horror." When they have to, however, both can instantly become powerful leaders on the brink of destruction. LeBow's Tiresias sends chills through the audience with his dark fore-shadowings to the giggling Maenads. Likewise, the perpetually-talented Epstein manages to make his bitter tirade against Agave ring with the pain of a noble ruler disappointing his people, yet he also lashes out in furious anguish at his childlike daughter for the mess she and her disbelieving son have created.

Although they have small roles, the First Guard (Robert Ross), the Second Guard (Dmetrius Conley-Williams), and the silent chorus of Pentheus's guards are also extremely talented. The speaking guards manage to be appropriately funny at otherwise tense moments, while still remaining in awe of the power surrounding them. But the most easily overlooked group of people on-stage, and the ones who deserve the most kudos, are the Chorus. Resembling the love children of Raggedy Anne and Courtney Love, replete with magenta dreads and combat boots, they prove to be an excellent addition overall. The dancing, chanting women have a rich and passionate stage presence, whether interacting with the other characters or weaving the story by themselves. Also, unlike the last production, their explication of events as they happen offstage truly helps the audience understand what is going on.

Physically, the production is minimalist but effective. The stage itself strongly resembles a "Structure" advertisement, but captures the essence of what is considered today as ancient Greece. A constant stream of sparkling confetti falling from one spotlight is distracting at first, but could be interpreted as representing the watchful eyes of the gods. The special effects are nothing short of amazing--the gods' wrath, especially the destruction of Pentheus's house, is truly frightening, and appropriately loud. An excellent lighting scheme also works to create a variety of moods, from raptured to tense to apocalyptic.

One of the factors that most distinguishes this "Bacchae" from the A.R.T.'s version is its emphasis on underlying themes. Because the events are outlined with more clarity, more room is left to ponder the deeper meanings of this mysterious play. The issue of sexuality and gender reversal also arise, although in a different way than Catherine Walker's production intended. Here, Dionysos is a man, which is quite appropriate in the patriarchal society of Greece (and today). He has the ultimate power literally and figuratively; and although they lust after him, the Maenads also sometimes engage in lesbian-ish petting of each other. In addition, a great twist is added to the "Pentheus In Drag" scene as Pentheus is suddenly 'reduced' to becoming another woman drooling over Dionysos. He surrenders his sexual power, and as a result, his political power as well. The mocking of Pentheus in a dress is very childish and reminiscent of third-grade, but effectively creates the mood of sexual tension amidst many role-reversals.

By the end, Dionysos has triumphed over the foolish people of Thebes who did not believe in him. Before she falls into despair, however, Agave argues with the smirking Maenads that she is victorious, too. But who has really lost? The Bacchae are 'empowered,' so to speak, but look at Agave--she loses everything and is destroyed by her so-called 'victory.' At one point in the production, Dionysos smiles and says he loves all humanity except Pentheus, yet an entire city is ruined because some people didn't believe in him. In short, the gods are triumphant, and the people--even the fiendishly independent Bacchae--have to pay the ultimate price.

The A.R.T.'s production of The Bacchae is, quite simply, a great rendition of a classic play that is easy to follow along with, and chock-full of strong actors and clear-cut character roles. There is power, there is destruction, and there are even a few laughs along the way. Move over, Xena, and bacch me up, Maenads--the A.R.T.'s The Bacchae is a triumphant tragedy if there ever was one.Photo courtesy of A.R.T.SOME GUYS GET ALL THE CHICKS: Up close and personal at 'The Bacchae.'

Although they have small roles, the First Guard (Robert Ross), the Second Guard (Dmetrius Conley-Williams), and the silent chorus of Pentheus's guards are also extremely talented. The speaking guards manage to be appropriately funny at otherwise tense moments, while still remaining in awe of the power surrounding them. But the most easily overlooked group of people on-stage, and the ones who deserve the most kudos, are the Chorus. Resembling the love children of Raggedy Anne and Courtney Love, replete with magenta dreads and combat boots, they prove to be an excellent addition overall. The dancing, chanting women have a rich and passionate stage presence, whether interacting with the other characters or weaving the story by themselves. Also, unlike the last production, their explication of events as they happen offstage truly helps the audience understand what is going on.

Physically, the production is minimalist but effective. The stage itself strongly resembles a "Structure" advertisement, but captures the essence of what is considered today as ancient Greece. A constant stream of sparkling confetti falling from one spotlight is distracting at first, but could be interpreted as representing the watchful eyes of the gods. The special effects are nothing short of amazing--the gods' wrath, especially the destruction of Pentheus's house, is truly frightening, and appropriately loud. An excellent lighting scheme also works to create a variety of moods, from raptured to tense to apocalyptic.

One of the factors that most distinguishes this "Bacchae" from the A.R.T.'s version is its emphasis on underlying themes. Because the events are outlined with more clarity, more room is left to ponder the deeper meanings of this mysterious play. The issue of sexuality and gender reversal also arise, although in a different way than Catherine Walker's production intended. Here, Dionysos is a man, which is quite appropriate in the patriarchal society of Greece (and today). He has the ultimate power literally and figuratively; and although they lust after him, the Maenads also sometimes engage in lesbian-ish petting of each other. In addition, a great twist is added to the "Pentheus In Drag" scene as Pentheus is suddenly 'reduced' to becoming another woman drooling over Dionysos. He surrenders his sexual power, and as a result, his political power as well. The mocking of Pentheus in a dress is very childish and reminiscent of third-grade, but effectively creates the mood of sexual tension amidst many role-reversals.

By the end, Dionysos has triumphed over the foolish people of Thebes who did not believe in him. Before she falls into despair, however, Agave argues with the smirking Maenads that she is victorious, too. But who has really lost? The Bacchae are 'empowered,' so to speak, but look at Agave--she loses everything and is destroyed by her so-called 'victory.' At one point in the production, Dionysos smiles and says he loves all humanity except Pentheus, yet an entire city is ruined because some people didn't believe in him. In short, the gods are triumphant, and the people--even the fiendishly independent Bacchae--have to pay the ultimate price.

The A.R.T.'s production of The Bacchae is, quite simply, a great rendition of a classic play that is easy to follow along with, and chock-full of strong actors and clear-cut character roles. There is power, there is destruction, and there are even a few laughs along the way. Move over, Xena, and bacch me up, Maenads--the A.R.T.'s The Bacchae is a triumphant tragedy if there ever was one.Photo courtesy of A.R.T.SOME GUYS GET ALL THE CHICKS: Up close and personal at 'The Bacchae.'