Medea
by Euripides

State Theatre
Amphitheatre
Elder Park

Reviewed by Murray Bramwell

Of all the extraordinary works of theatre from Fifth Century Athens there is none as striking as Euripides’ Medea. Along with The Bacchae it unleashes energies and poses social questions that only a robust, sophisticated and philosophic community could sustain. Medea is a play of contradictions. Lucidly told, it is nevertheless cryptic, a text which speaks to our own time yet carries archaic meanings and beliefs. It offers none of the moral lineaments that Aristotle could admire in Oedipus Rex . Where is the pity and fear when the perp gets away in chariot ? Especially, members of the jury, a woman who murders her children.

The story of Medea has attracted a number of modern renderings and it is hardly original to note that the Susan Smith case in Union, North Carolina and the current O.J circus are, underneath all the Hard Copy guignol, contemporary events of a Euripidean kind. But, having said that, it is reductive to suggest in Medea only its sociological significance. Its meanings are mythic and supernatural, its dark vitality is both worldly and other-worldly.

State Theatre opened its season in perfect style with this outdoor staging
of Medea. It is a reminder, if we needed any, that late summer in Adelaide is quite the time for open air events. The amphitheatre adjacent to the Festival Centre and Elder Park was packed on opening night and State have done well to involve the support of the Greek Orthodox community in a venture of this kind.

But it is important to separate the production from its occasion. Director/composer Constantine Koukias and designer Ann Wulf have produced a distinctive Medea but finally not a well-considered one. There are strengths in Koukias’ music, a blend of percussion, electronics, and traditional Greek and Byzantine instruments, and the composition for choral voices is also a memorable feature of the performance. But overall there is a lack of clear direction and a truncation of important elements in the play.

Ann Wulf’s decor, a translation of the ancient skene into postmodern perspex, uses a shallow pool of water for the main acting area. While this provides opportunity for mirror images of the actors and smooth planes for the expressionist variations of Krystof Kozlowski’s effective lighting design, it is a good deal more conceptual than practical. Wulf has loaded this space with meanings – it represents the interface of land and sea, the private and public spheres of Medea’s life. And, according to program notes- “The pool of water stained with milk, tears and blood acts as a reference to female fluids and extends the analysis of the exchange value of a woman’s body which informs the text.”

Apart from being entirely illegible in performance these motifs focus on a view of Medea as a woman victimised by society . It fails to acknowledge that she is a demi-goddess, a sorceress with a repertoire of audio-visuals that includes hyperkinetics, spontaneous combustion and- in exchange for a free ride to Athens- her own particular version of the IVF program. The tragic irony for Medea is that, with all her powers, she cannot compel Jason’s continuing love for her. Instead, forgetting all she has done for him- including the serial killings of members of her own family- he makes ill-advised plans to marry into royalty.

As Medea, Doris Younane is valiant but despite her conscientious work she is thwarted by the production itself. Perhaps nothing quite equals her entrance. In basic black, with heavy eye make-up and hair in long braids, she has all the silent-cinema histrionics of Theda Bara . But this is not sustained in the direction and things fall back into undefined naturalism despite all the highly stylised decor. Luciano Martucci’s Jason is a good
foil, his complacency and self-interest turning to horror as he realises the magnitude of Medea’s fury. Martucci and Younane work well together and the use of sound mikes allows them clarity without declamation It is probably accidental, but the echo from the mikes gives a curious unreality to their speech, suggestive of the mask performances of classical theatre.

In other roles, Michael Griffin is useful as Creon but he cannot be pleased with the excesses of his costume. Nor can Nicola Pimaro, inexplicably dressed in white wings, as the messenger. Designer Ann Wulf claims authenticity for the costumes, based on figures in vase designs. The difficulty is that the production is already over-layered with visual effects, including Hugh McSpedden’s projections. With so much else going on, less, would not only be more, but a blessed relief as well.

Euripides’ use of the chorus is of particular interest in Medea because it provides a dialogue which parallels the audience’s own relation to events. The reduction of the chorus to a musical counterpoint provides excellent opportunity for Constantine Koukias as composer and he is well served by soloist Yiannis Fragos and the fragrant voices of Catriona Barr, Annmari Beni and Lynne Smythe. But, as director, Koukias is deprived of an important framing device which highlights Medea’s plight and the terrible turn she makes. In the absence of the chorus much of the dramatic task falls to Nina Paleologos as the Nurse and, understandably, she is not able to manage it.

This production is heavy on atmospherics -including pyrotechnics, lasers and some regrettably piddly fountains . But it is lacking in firm direction. The actors work hard but they are confounded by the design and narrative choices which simply don’t work. Ann Wulf explicitly emphasises the fact that events reported by messengers or the Nurse are, in this production, directly represented to the audience. In particular this means that the children’s deaths are enacted on stage. Not only are Euripides’ excellent dramatic instincts ignored but the final scene has Medea stranded on stage with the corpses of her sons when she should be raised defiantly aloft . The playwright calls for a chariot drawn by dragons. If that can’t be managed
then at least Medea has to be well out of reach of Jason’s frenzied ravings -leaving him and us to wonder bitterly about crimes and punishment, structural violence and the random acts of individuals.

The Adelaide Review, No.136, March, 1995, pp.29-30.