‘Metamorphoses’ Makes a Splash

“You see this pool? It cost a pretty penny, I can tell you.”

Yes indeed, King Midas. I do see this pool. You mean the one in the center of the stage? The one where every important event in the Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club’s new production of “Metamorphoses” takes place? Oh yeah, I see it. It’s a very nice pool.

That’s Ovid’s “Metamorphoses,” of course; a mock-epic, 15-part poem that contains every major mythological story of antiquity. Ten of these stories have been adapted to the stage by playwright Mary Zimmerman and produced at Harvard by Allison B. Kline ’09, Julia K. Lindpaintner ’09, and Maria-Ilinca Radulian ’10. In the capable hands of visiting director Carmel O’Reilly, last Friday’s opening performance was sometimes spellbinding, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes both.

But back to that pool for a minute. There is literally a big pool in the middle of the stage, and set designer Courtney E. Thompson ’09 deserves a lot of credit for making it happen. O’Reilly deserves credit as well for making sure that the pool wasn’t just a decorative set piece. It is thematically central.

Sensibly enough, the tales that comprise the “Metamorphoses” revolve around scenes of transformation. Onstage, the big changes all take place in the pool, which accommodates many more subtle modulations of its own with impressive flexibility. One minute it’s a stormy ocean, the next a night-time beach, the next a humble cottage.

And there are few better engines of transformation than laughter, which can turn a king into an object of ridicule as easily as it can elevate mere affection to love. Humor is a key element of “Metamorphoses,” and the members of the show’s excellent 10-person ensemble cast are frequently very, very funny.

Nelson T. Greaves ’10, in particular, is hysterical as Erysichthon, a king who is punished by the god Demeter for cutting down a sacred tree. Demeter sics an excitingly creepy Hunger (Sara L. Wright ’09) on the king. As Wright quite literally clings to Greaves, his character descends into a starvation-induced madness, eating everything in sight and selling his mother into slavery when the money runs out. Erysichthon doesn’t think it’s so funny, of course, especially not the part where he eats his own foot.

But back to that pool for another minute (I don’t mean to fixate or anything, but you’ll understand if you see the show, I promise). The pool is at its most versatile during the story of Ceyx and Alcyone, played respectively by Arlo D. Hill ’08 and Carolyn W. Holding ’10. Ceyx is at sea when the gods hurl a powerful storm at his ship, and he is killed along with the rest of his crew. Meanwhile, Alcyone loses hope by the day, and when the gods permit Ceyx’s shade to visit her in a dream, her worst fears are confirmed.

She steps into the sea, bent with grief that is all the more wrenching because she stands in an ever-shifting body of water rather than on solid ground. But the gods feel pity. They return the body of her dead husband to his home shore, and then, miraculously, transform the lovers into sea birds. This transformation is visually realized through a series of highly stylized movements that I don’t think would work on dry land. In the water, however, it’s a wondrous scene.

But even though the cast’s acting and O’Reilly’s direction evoke wonder with such ease, Zimmerman’s script sometimes shoots itself in the foot. Ovid’s tales are supplemented with some of Zimmerman’s own commentary on the necessity of myths, how our modern, rational society is too unwilling to give itself over to the unexplainable, magical aspects of these durable stories.

I’m with her there, but then why dissect the story of Phaeton (Matthew I. Bohrer ’10) and Apollo (Hill) with such ruthless precision? Why have Apollo’s son tell his story to a long-winded psychiatrist, who tears Phaeton’s tale to shreds with psychoanalytical terminology? If the value of myth is its magical elusiveness, why pin it down? Fables may have morals, but myths do not, and this may be a distinction that Zimmerman forgot to make.

Additionally, the pool is so well realized that other visual elements of the production have trouble keeping pace. The costumes, designed by Lucy W. Baird ’10, are nice but a little plain, as are the non-pool set pieces. In a show where everything is about a certain mood—a magical, lighthearted spiritual openness–anything that seems clunky can weigh down a scene. This clunkiness is noticeable every time a moment of overwrought choreography distracts from the scene, or whenever Zimmerman feels the need to pause and tell the audience exactly what it is that makes Ovid’s stories so good.

But it’s worth sticking it out through the less inspired moments of “Metamorphoses.” When Ovid gets to speak for himself, the weight disappears, and the show takes off.

—Reviewer Richard S. Beck can be reached at rsbeck@fas.harvard.edu.