‘Amphitryon’ Stumbles at the Huntington

Those of you who are familiar with Greek mythology will know that the story of Amphitryon is not a particularly humorous one. Unable to win the virtuous Alcmena by any other method, the ever-philandering Zeus recreates himself in the exact likeness of her husband Amphitryon and so wins a night under the sheets with the loving wife. Over time this tale of unwitting adultery has been transformed into a farcical matter, one which has formed the basis for an impressive number of plays. Continuing a tradition started by the Roman playwright Plautus, the 20th century French dramatist Jean Giraudoux actually wrote a version entitled Amphitryon 38, counting his rendition as the 38th retelling of the myth.

From this plethora of options, the Huntington Theatre Company has chosen for its most recent production Molière’s Amphitryon. They probably couldn’t have picked a more highly-rated master of the comedic form, but they certainly could have picked a better play. Molière’s dexterity with the witty and intricate dialogue that was en vogue in the 17th century French court admittedly serves as a nice parallel to the intricacies of a story that has two sets of identical “twins” roaming the stage. (Mercury takes a stint as an identical copy of Amphitryon’s slave in order to facilitate Zeus bedroom escapades.) But the script, to its own detriment, borrows freely from Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors (which was based in part on Plautus’ Amphituo) and in doing so brazenly ignores any and all possible questions or concerns to which this unique and fascinating interaction of gods and humans might lead. The result is a brilliantly polished but rather empty and derivative play.

And in the hands of the Huntington, unfortunately, the play does not get any better. The translation by Pulitzer-prize winning poet Richard Wilbur is surprisingly banal. One might expect more from the leading English translator of Molière’s comedies. But whereas Molière is famous for an elegant wit, Wilbur gives us only broad, limerick-like verse. This is by no means helped by the shortcomings of the production’s actors. There exist plenty of prose translations of Amphitryon; why director Darko Tresnjak didn’t opt for one of these remains a mystery. When not trying to read Wilbur’s poetry as one might read a Shell Sylverstein poem, the actors stumble through the lines as though they were written in prose. What seems like an attempt to stay true to the spirit of Molière’s original script ultimately comes across as something of a verbal fiasco.

In fact, the entire production shares this problem. David P. Gordon’s opulent set design, rich in golds and imperial blues, wants to be reminiscent of the grand production Molière’s comedy first received at the Palais-Royal in 1668. But its inspiration seems to lie more in the gaudy extravagance of Broadway hits like The Lion King than in the theater of 17th century France. When seen in combination with Linda Cho’s stylized costuming and Frances Aronson’s over-reliance on primary colors in lighting the play, one might expect oversized puppets to dance across the stage. This effect is heightened or perhaps created by the cartoonish acting of nearly the entire ensemble. Leading the pack is Brooks Ashmanskas as Amphitryon’s much-maligned slave Sosia. A dim-witted but earnest fellow, Ashmanskas’ Sosia reacts to his mistreatment at the hands of Mercury (and then practically everyone else in the play) with a bafflement and foolhardiness worthy of a character like Goofy. His attempts to elicit laughter from the audience with overwrought physical antics, while they might be successful with a younger crowd, are almost painful to watch given the Huntington’s somewhat mature clientele.

To make matters worse, there’s almost nobody else to really watch on stage.

The major players in the central conflict—Amphitryon, Alcmena and Zeus—have maybe one fully developed character between the three of them. Most of their time on stage is spent ploughing steadfastly and inappropriately through Wilbur’s verse.

The one redeeming performance, at least in the first act, comes from Liam Craig as Mercury. Bearing a distinct similarity to many a Kevin Spacey turn, Craig presents the winged god as possessing a piercing intellect and dangerously sardonic tongue. Moreover, he revels in a malaise that contrasts brilliantly with his position as swift-footed messenger of the gods. By the second act, however, all the character elements which Craig carefully built up in the first act collapse. What is left is a dimensionless thug who spends 90 percent of his time on stage reveling in his ability to beat up the defenseless Sosia. It’s a violence without much purpose and with even less humor. Even worse, it’s a violence against the audience, all of whom have to endure the tedium of Sosia’s endless beatings.

To its credit, Tresnjak’s production does make a nod to the tragic implications of the tale for the young lovers at its center. Informed by Zeus of his nefarious doings and of Alcmena’s pregnancy with a child named Hercules, the couple end the play bewildered and dejected. But given the shortcomings of the preceding two hours, this ending doesn’t serve as a contrast to Molière’s comedic treatment of the subject matter. Instead, it embodies the audience’s reaction all along.