Genre-bound no more, 'Prometheus' raves

By Matt Wiegle

Curse the Greeks. They're always talking. Greek civilization produced some of the most vivid narratives in human history, but the ritualistic strictures imposed on the ancient stage left little room to make its legends live. Traditional Greek performance consigns the infant slaying, gut stabbing, and sneaky-brother burying to offstage, while it fleshes out its iconic characters with mountains of dialogue. Searching for some other way into these myths, Justin Garrick, SY '00, and André-Phillippe Mistier, MC '00, create a production of Prometheus Bound that reworks Greek performance into something elemental and physical. Taking only fragments from Aeschylus' original work, their Prometheus Bound strives to explore both the themes of the original legend and the rigid forms in which legends are presented

The production retains Aeschylus' mythical premise: for bringing the knowledge of fire and other useful skills to humanity, Prometheus (Garrick) has been bound to a rock, where he must remain for eternity, his liver pecked out daily by mountain eagles. Garrick and Mistier create an episodic series of performances, each of which examines a different aspect of Prometheus and those surrounding him. In one of the show's monologues, the condemned Titan claims that "all arts that mortals have come from Prometheus"; the production expands on the messianic nature of this statement by drawing a series of visual parallels between Prometheus and Christ, transforming the rock into a metal scaffold which functions like a crucifix. Garrick even goes the Albrecht Dürer route of physical resemblance, sporting a beard and flowing brown hair. In another segment, Garrick portrays Prometheus' role in man's evolution more directly: using expressive movements and a single mask, he becomes a series of primitive animals, each one more complex than the last. The effect is thrillingly eerie

Other portions of Prometheus Bound are more concerned with the conventions of the theatrical ritual itself. The character of Hephaestus (Erik A. Johnson, PC '02), for example, also functions as the stagehand. Throughout the piece, he lumbers around the GPSCY performance space, throwing switches and projecting slides. In his white face mask and overalls, he looks like a cross between the Phantom of the Opera and one of Dexy's Midnight Runners from the "Come On Eileen" video. Whether or not the resemblance is intended, Johnson brings a dullard-like slavishness to Hephaestus that works as an effective counterpoint to the carefully wrought motion of the other actors. Likewise, Pan (Noah Enelow, CC '99) questions linguistic renderings of Prometheus' story; defiantly anti-verbal, he communicates through physical motion and bursts from his saxophone, drowning out Prometheus' attempts to speak. There's little room for complicated dialogic debate when Enelow bounds about and simulates farts with his sax.

The rest of the cast amply fills out this alternate theatrical universe. The chorus--Annie Lapin, DC '01, and Nikki Ng, ES '02--brings welcome harmonic beauty to the recitatives of the original text. As Herakles, Sidra Bell, SY '01, recenters the movements of the play's characters on Prometheus' story, performing an athletic, whirling dance which ultimately frees Prometheus from his chains. Part of the enjoyment of Prometheus Bound comes from watching the principal performers' astonishingly disciplined and well-structured motions--Garrick writhing into complex configurations on his scaffold, Enelow scampering and bleating, Johnson suddenly shifting from clumsy and hulking to powerful and solid. Joe Barra's sparse lighting design and Kenzo Watari's, TC '01, electronic musical score (deejayed live by Rajni Sethi, MC '00) supplement these moments without overwhelming them.

Unfortunately, Prometheus Bound succumbs to several self-reflexive moments that, while enjoyable in and of themselves, disrupt this universe of clashing icons in a way that makes it difficult to locate oneself in the piece. At one point, Garrick breaks character and removes his mask, sitting on a chair and inviting questions from the audience about the production. When he begins to answer, Enelow plays so loudly that Garrick is inaudible. While amusing, it also feels standoffish, as if thwarting interpretation were a worthy end in itself.

Similarly, the production's conclusion makes it seem that Prometheus offered all his torment and sacrifice just so modern humanity could suddenly decide to chuck theatrical convention and have a rave. Kaleidoscopic lights begin to spin, fog machines spew smoke, and a trance-licious beat starts thumping as New Haven bacchanalians enter and gyrate with Garrick, who is suddenly transfigured into Prometheus Superstar. The spectacle works as a bombastic, overwhelming scene to close the performance, but it doesn't necessarily spring from the previous exercises, and it makes it difficult to pull the whole work into a coherent narrative. Nevertheless, for most of Prometheus Bound, Garrick and Mistier create an entertaining and physically daring world which scrapes the verbal cobwebs off an old myth and fills it with vitality.

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