Greek myth takes the stage at the Wilma Theater

By: Deborah Yarchun

Posted: 5/16/08

Every once in a while a playwright comes along and completely redefines an audience's perception of theater. In some cases, this writer is completely ignored, or if their script receives a production, they are considered unruly and ostracized. Other times, they're lucky and are given a MacArthur Genius Award and nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. Such is the case of Sarah Ruhl, whose play, "Eurydice," is currently being given a marvelous production by the Wilma Theater.

Ruhl puts a fresh spin on the myth of "Orpheus" by casting musician Orpheus' wife, Eurydice, as the protagonist. In the myth, Orpheus is given the chance to reclaim Eurydice from the underworld, under the condition that as they walk towards the exit, he cannot look back at her. Of course, he does, and poof --- she's gone for eternity. Na've

In Ruhl's sweet rendition, na've Eurydice (Merritt Janson) is lured away from her wedding by the promise of a letter from her dead father by a predatory man in red, (played with great comedic timing by Triney Sandoval). When she refuses his advances, she plummets to her death and into the underworld where she is drenched in a river that erases her memory of the world of the living. There, she is greeted by three demonic and grotesque clowns (Gene D'Alessandro, Cathy Simpson and Erin Reilly) who are actually the cold stones of the underworld that serve as Ruhl's sometimes unnecessary but overall fascinating Greek chorus. While Orpheus (played charmingly by Benjamin Huber) desperately attempts to contact her, Eurydice finds herself increasingly at home with her father (Stephen Novelli), who died when she was much too young.

It's a story as translucent and deep as the water that runs across the middle of the Wilma's stage: a young lady is torn between the love of her father and her husband. The tragedy in this case is found not entirely in Orpheus' silly blunder of loving too much and looking back too soon, but also in her inability to leave her own childhood. They're ultimately mutually responsible for their tragic ends. This may serve as a comfort for those who have always perceived Eurydice as simply a feckless and faceless victim of fate. Sounds heavy, right? But with Ruhl, it's everything but that. Love and death are themes that Ruhl plays as light as the many balloons tied to the stage.

The plot may be simple, but Ruhl's means of telling the story is full of lyrical language, visual poetry and a complex synthesis of music, imagery and theatricality. In most theatrical settings, the lighting, set and background music support the action of the play. In Ruhl's, the action is wholly dependent on it. This is not a weakness, but instead demonstrates how she has created a piece that speaks the language of the stage so fluently. It couldn't possibly belong to any other medium, not even the page.

Acting-wise, from their first scene together on a beach, Huber and Merritt perform with an energy perfectly befitting of the child-like innocence of their characters, who do not demand much depth. But in this show, the acting is simply another instrument to the overall production values, none of which would be complete without the other.

They act in combination with live music, in the form of a cello, bass and talented a capella choir. The finely-tuned intonations of composer Toby Twining add to the surreal world of the play. Director Blanka Ziska's decision to invite an original composer into the collaboration is a choice that should be greatly applauded.

This is against the backdrop of Tyler Micoleau's innovative lighting design with swimming lights and a stunning moment of shadow-play that offers one of the few truly suspenseful moments of the evening. Set designer Mimi Lien's abstract architectural space, sharpens the already post-modern edge, replete with yoga balls and primary colors including red balloons against a stark blue stage.

The overall seeming magical stagecraft, including rain on stage and an angled elevator, truly makes the evening, and Ziska contributes with her creative take on some of Ruhl's most challenging stage directions. Ruhl, in the script, suggests that Eurydice's father "makes four walls and a door out of string." Ziska interprets this moment through constructing Ruhl's house using helium balloons. Never mind that some of these long stage moments break up the rhythm in a way that risks losing the audience's attention, we're lulled back with a fantastical stage image that may very well awaken the long lost childhood imagination of every member of the audience.

Longer moments such as these are places where Ruhl defies traditional expectations of conflict and constant forward action, and the play becomes a meditation between Eurydice and her father, or rather, a poem. This is not surprising, as Ruhl has said she "sees her plays as three-dimensional poems."

It's not an evening of theater filled with the type of momentum that tethers you to the seat; instead, it's the dazzling images and the human element in these moments that make "Eurydice" an inspiring evening of theater.

Student Sundays at the Wilma, with $10 tickets, won't break the bank. Do yourself the service of seeing something worth gazing at for 90 minutes. "Eurydice" continues its run until June 1.