Dark arts, dark souls Incest, revenge and dark magic in the Odeon’s new production of

Dark arts, dark souls Incest, revenge and dark magic in the Odeon’s new production of Electra and Orestes LONDON, ENGLAND THE STORY of Electra and Orestes is hardly one that needs embellishment to keep its audience awake through its five acts. A stomach-churning tale of revenge and honour, greed and vice and love in all its twisted forms, following the rise and fall of Orestes and his sister Electra as they plot to take the throne and avenge their father Agammemnon, Sophocles’ classic play makes even the raunchiest of our plays look tame by comparison. Indeed, classical scholars frequently complain that our modern stage tends towards censorship in its stagings of Electra and Orestes. Aristochanus Marlowe’s adaptation of Electra and Orestes, then, should please those that criticize the bawdlerization of this play’s modern productions, with its unflinching approach to this bloody tale of revenge. In this adaptation, Electra and Orestes’ closeness to each other takes on a sinister turn, the incestuous undertones of the original text amplified in an impassioned monologue delivered by Orestes to his sister as they plot their revenge. Michael Blishwick’s Orestes is fierce and pathetic by turns as he wrestles with self-doubt and unsurety under the looming shadow of the throne; and the vile crime they are about to commit. But it is Camille Plautin who is the star of this show, in a memorable performance as Electra - strong-willed and proud yet frail, consumed by this need for revenge borne of what is later revealed to be an unhealthy bond to her father she persists in clinging to. It is after Electra inveigles Orestes into pledging himself to revenge their father by any means, however, that we truly reach the heart of Marlowe’s adaptation. Fearing that they may be found out and executed, Electra makes Orestes promise that he will agree to do anything to keep himself alive. Once he has sworn this, in blood and with an Unbreakable Vow, Electra tells him that he must kill her and make a horcrux in which he may place half his soul. Orestes is naturally horrified and refuses. Ms Plautin’s Electra is at her very best here, raving and weeping, threatening and mocking, savage and tender, calling his love for her false until Orestes yields unwillingly. Maria Vyayetskaya is truly magnificent as Clytemenestra as she attempts to reason with her son, half-mad with grief and guilt and still covered in his sister’s blood. Nothing will stop Orestes however, and by the end of the play the stage is slick with blood and a body count that rivals that of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Critics will decry Marlowe’s decision to include a portrayal of the creation of a horcrux on stage for all the bad memories it will undoubtedly awake in the audience. There are some who might even go so far as to claim that it may give people ‘ideas’. The actual process barring Electra’s murder, however, is not shown directly on stage, but is hinted at indirectly through an intricately performed light and shadow play. Mr Marlowe himself believes that it is necessary for the public to face their fears and misgivings about horcruxes and other dark magic. As he puts it, it is in the dark that dark magic truly festers and not under the bright lights of the theatre stage. There are those who may also lament the glamour that this particular adaptation of Electra and Orestes brings to the matter of revenge and revenge killings. Certainly neither Electra nor Orestes are punished or even chastened for their single-minded pursuit of this morally reprehensible goal. They have missed the point of this play. The answer lies in the odd glance, in cracked voices and in the harsh bright lights and the stark white sets, reminiscent of the wards at St Mungo’s, that Mr Marlowe has chosen for this production. The play meticulously picks at the inconsistencies and the emptiness of the tragic lives of these two siblings; venomous tentacula that grow sickly as the bright lights strip away the pretenses and the masks, leaving empty eyes and profound despair behind in a harsh and unforgiving landscape that mirrors the hollow emptiness of Electra and Orestes’ souls. Mr Marlowe gets to the heart of the tragedy of Electra and Orestes in this adaptation, looking beyond its bloody ending to pick apart their fractured souls. The Odeon’s latest offering truly does show us that dark souls fester in the dark and not in the harsh light of the stage. Electra and Orestes is running at the Odeon theatre until February 8th. From: The Wixenomist, November 17th - 23rd. (Pics:1,2,3,4) -- source link

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