I’m always happy to welcome a new theater company to the Bay area, and when that company starts its work with a little-known Greek tragedy, I’m especially intrigued. In this case, the company is the Tampa Repertory Theatre, and the play is Euripides’ Alcestis, about a woman who chooses to die in her husband’s stead.
The good news is, the TRT presents a likable version of the play, one that makes no apologies for the strangeness of the work, its fantastical plot and unfamiliar dramaturgy. The not-so-good news is that director Megan Lamasney (Disco Pigs) hasn’t found a way to make the play relevant to an audience of 21st-century Americans who have a different set of problems, and who in any case don’t believe in Apollo or Heracles. Further, the youthfulness of most of the actors, and the crudeness of the set, make the production feel like a university effort and not a professional offering.
Still, Alcestis is a start, and a daring one, all things considered. I’m already looking forward to more and better TRT shows.
When Alcestis begins, much of the plot is already behind us. Admetus, King of Thessaly, has been told that the time of his death is nigh, and that he can only escape if he finds another human willing to replace him. Valuing existence more than family, he’s tried to interest his parents in the switch – but they’re not quite ready for Hades, thanks very much. When all other stratagems have failed, his queen, Alcestis, loving and tender, has offered her young life – and now, as the play begins, she’s ready to cross over.
Admetus complains a good deal (but if he loves her so much, why does he let her stand in for him?), but Death himself comes for his quarry, and he’s impatient. Sure enough, Alcestis expires, and Admetus is left grief-stricken – but still, notably, breathing.
Just then, who should come calling but the demigod Heracles. Now, he’s not the sort to be put off by deals with Death, and anyway he hates to see a good mortal friend in distress. Is it too late for our hero to pull a few strings on the Dark Side?
As important as Alcestis is in the play, the real center of the action is Admetus, whose moral position is ambiguous, to say the least. David Barrow plays the part with great energy and emotion, but he seems unaware that Admetus is a supreme egotist and not, by most standards, a sympathetic husband or son. This unconsciousness feels most scandalous in the scene with his father Pheres (Mike Buck), whom he castigates for wanting to live on even though he’s old and apparently obsolescent. Dubious also is Admetus’ grief once Alcestis has vanished – are we supposed to feel sympathy for a loss which he himself sponsored?
More affecting is Kim DiPiano’s impersonation of Alcestis. In DiPiano’s capable hands, the queen is a genuinely loving figure, proud to demonstrate her love of Admetus even to the point of surrendering her life. DiPiano doesn’t say much, but her calm demeanor and quiet smile make it clear from the first moment that her sacrifice is a sincere one, made for a man she deeply loves.
The only comic figure in the play is Daniel Rosenstrauch’s Heracles, dressed in a leather jacket and a vast self-confidence, and dominating the mere humans like an ancient, ageless Fonzie. As Death, Chris Perez, who also figures in the Chorus, is suitably vicious. Other Chorus members include Lydia Ferry, Landon Green, Heather Clark, and Matthew Frankel.
The set (by Matt Frankel and Eric Haak) is a problem. Consisting of a few raised platforms and four columns, it’s not very evocative (and by the way, those floors creak). Still, the mixed-period costumes (by Mike and Kathy Buck) are nicely imaginative, and Anthony Vito’s fine sound design attractively underpins the action.
When there’s this much success in a play’s design, one can’t help but think that a greater accomplishment is within reach. Alcestis may not be a play urgently in need of a new production, but it’s a start to what I hope will be TRT’s long tenure among Bay area theaters. A city Tampa’s size should have many more stages. The current production isn’t terribly interesting – but the future is unwritten.
This article appears in Jul 14-20, 2011.