A Mid-summer’s Night Dream with Phedra at Epidorous

It was a mid-summer’s night dream with the full moon overhead as we saw the ancient play Phedra at Epidorous in Greece on the 10th of July 2009 with Helene Mirrin and the National Theater of England performing. Epidorous a 5th century BC amphitheater has hosted plays and performances for the past 2,500 years and this night was one of the most glorious places to be on the planet.

We had traveled through northern Greece visiting the sites of Mount Olympus, Delphi, the Corinth Canal, and the dozens of places that are hallmarks of the ancient Greek civilization. Earlier in the day we were at the Parthenon, the Acropolis and the new National Archaeology Museum specifically designed to host the returned Parthenon friezes that have been ensconced in the British Museum. The English Ambassador, Lord Elgin, in the early 1800’s absconded with the beautiful marbles and friezes from the Parthenon for “safe keeping,” and the Greek government has been trying to reclaim them since. There was a bit of irony the English were coming back here to offer their version of Euripides’s classic Hippolytus written in 429 BC; perhaps, the National Theater’s production is an overture in the return of this Greek National treasure.

Phedra, originally entitled Hippolytus by Euripides is a classic Greek tragedy. Racine, the French playwright created his version of the play with the name of Phaedra. This current incarnation of Phaedra adapted into English by the poet Ted Hughes is a tale that embodies the Greek tragedy, the human foibles of Racine, and with a modern staging by the National Theater of England makes for superb theater

In the play, Hippolytus, the son of King Theseus and stepson of Phaedra, in Theseus’ absence Phaedra falls in love with Hippolytus, but he rejects her as he is in love with Aricia. Phedra accuses Hippolytus of seducing her. Upon learning this, Theseus banishes his son and asks the god Poseidon to punish him. A colossal bull rises from the sea and frightens Hippolytus’ horses, which drag him to his death. Phaedra in remorse poisons herself.

The ancient amphitheater with its perfect acoustics enables the actors to perform without amplification to a theater that holds 17,000 people. This is one of the enchantments of the production, bare-bone theatre without a sound system, a minimum of lighting, five chairs placed in the fore of the stage and one simple table with a bowl of water as the only fixed props. The actors wore an odd amalgam of clothes, as if each actor had gone to a Thrift store and purchased their own costume. The soldiers and advisers dressed like fascist black-shirts, the nurse maid attired like an old crone, Phaedra in a contemporary simple purple gown, Aricia in a white short toga, Theseus in shirt and trousers, and despite the lack of overt coherency – it came off splendidly. The costumes were simple suggestions and didn’t overwhelm the performance or distract the audience.

The power of the play was the language -- glorious, rich, and well spoken. This is the soul of the National Theater where actors genuinely love the word and without artifice bring it to life. In a screen above the backstage, the English translated to Modern Greek.

Helen Mirrin gave a beautifully crafted performance -- emotions brought to life with a gesture or a rise in the voice, a mood evoked with a turn of the head, as she seamlessly worked with the other actors. Dominic Cooper, an accomplished actor played Hippolytus though sometimes not fully embodying the essence of Hippolotous’s profound contradictions. Theseus, played by the imposing Stanley Townsend, was superb, the voice and clarity of character filled the stage: He was every inch the king, the father, and Zeus. The sum of the performance by this stellar cast, with outstanding direction by Nicholas Hynter and set design by Bob Crowley, created a memorable theater experience measured by the hush and the awe of the crowd. At the end when Aricia, her white robes covered in blood, dragged the bloody corpse of Hippolytus on stage the audience was on the edge of their seats, lust and the tragic consequence of betrayal was there for us to see.

The applause was a slow rising tide that built to a crescendo, with three curtain calls, and a standing ovation as the audience was stunned realizing they had seen one of the finest theater performances of their life. The moon overhead, the Goddess Selene, twin sister of Apollo, illuminated the amphitheater of Epidorous. On leaving I heard at least a dozen languages spoken, excitedly talking about the play, slowly walking through the dark to the waiting cars. Perhaps like in the ancient days – during the times of festivals, wars were suspended. In a golden age yet to come, when the imagination is inspired and the magic of theater touches our soul, perhaps that enchantment will lead to an age of lasting peace.