"I may not always love you,
But long as there are stars above you,
You never need to doubt it,
I'll make you so sure about it,
God only knows what I'd be without you."
Iphigenia, "The Oresteia", 458 BC
It's quite difficult to write about the Almeida Theatre's production of Aeschylus' The Oresteia without saying what's already been written: this is a bold, brilliant piece of work which redefines the ways in which we will approach Greek theatre in the future.
The thing which immediately strikes you about the production is how restrained and minimalist it is. Actions are implied more than performed, adding to the feeling of ritual which runs throughout. In a family dinner scene, for example, the characters discuss their venison dinner but there is no food on stage with the exception of a large decanter full of red wine. This atmosphere of restraint is often shattered by explosions of noise and sound; after the death of Iphigenia lights flash and doors fly open, and white feathers are blown onto the stage as Klytemnestra stands and screams at the euthanising of her child.
Just like how he toys with theatrical convention, director/adapter Robert Icke has taken the body of the original trilogy, ripped off the skin and rearranged the bones. We no longer have three plays (Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers and Eumenides) but instead are presented with one sprawling epic, framed by a conversation between a grown-up Orestes and a nameless psychologist. Scenes flow into one another and overlap, conversations clash with other conversations and Icke's dialogue is sparse and simple, but certain phrases stand out. When Klytemnestra remarks that her daughter was "dead since the beginning" in the middle of bath-time, it's hard not to shiver. Because that's what the first chunk of the production does so well: it's stunning evocation of the familial 'tea time'. The children hide from dad when he gets in from work, the teenage Electra tries to persuade her parents to let her drink wine and dad tries to get the kids to describe their days because he feels bad he's never there for them. The reason that the production is so shocking is that it feels so, so real.
While speaking about all of this, it would be very easy to ignore the fact that the acting is all very, very good. Amazing, actually. Angus Wright is an understated Agamemnon, who contrasts perfectly with Lia William's Kyltemnestra who is a women driven insane by grief and hate. Luke Thompson and Jessica Brown Findlay are more naturalistic as Orestes and Electra but still impress. Another standout is Hara Yannas as prisoner-of-war Cassandra, and while the part may be small (this is a 220 minute play though, so not sure if "small" is fair), she's legitimately frightening when she begins to scream her prophecy in a mixture of Greek (the original Aeschylus) and English.
Time also plays a large role in this production. An LED ticker above the stage tells us the exact time a character dies (real world time, so Agamemnon died around 2:30pm, but I may be wrong) and the production is set on the day it's performed (so the Oresteia *I* saw was set on the 7th of November). Intervals are also timed down to the precise second. It all adds to to idea of fate and religion, and you get the distinct impression that it's not just Iphigenia who was dead from the start.
Hildegard Bechtler's design takes the form of a large space divided by two sets of three sliding glass doors, sometimes transparent, sometimes not. At the back of the stage is a stone bath, whilst downstage is a clean white table with four white benches. It's all very Scandinavian. But it also comes back to the idea of reality and projecting consciousness: the furniture isn't real. Not to the characters, anyway. Bechtler/Icke wants us to imagine the set for whatever we want it to be. All the set does is act as a physical and spacial indication of the household, not as an accurate representation. But that's another essay for another time...
To cap it off, I just want to say that this really is one of the best pieces of theatre I've ever seen. If not, THE, best. I was absolutely knocked out by it in every conceivable way. It's unbelievably good, one of the most unique, essential productions that will ever play on the West End. It restored my faith in theatre and just about everything else.
