Confusing Cure at Troy at times startlingly beautiful

Confusing Cure at Troy at times startlingly beautiful

by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid - SGN A&E Writer THE CURE AT TROY DIRECTED BY TINA LANDAU SEATTLE REPERTORY THEATRE THROUGH MAY 3 I will confess that most of my knowledge about and familiarity with The Odyssey and The Illiad and the battle of Troy that was told about in those ancient tomes comes from watching the films Ulysses and Troy. So, when I realized that there weren't going to be any women in Seamus Heaney's The Cure at Troy - which meant no Helen - I felt myself to be in unfamiliar waters. And, to be fair to the production and the bravery it must have taken for The Seattle Repertory Theatre to once again challenge their audience with something so daring (the last time I witnessed this was back in the mid-'80s, when, after arriving from Chicago, I attended a performance of The Garden of Earthly Delights), it isn't an awful show. There's just a whole lot of confusion - even if, like me, you were once an English major. The show starts with a blazing white screen, against which three toned and interesting looking young men spout poetry and pose in what one supposes to be godlike gestures, thus setting the audience up for what's to come. Unfortunately, this exciting - if a bit out there - opening falls a bit short of the mark for the rest of the play, when the curtain opens on a group of Greek soldiers, including Ulysses, about to undertake some mysterious mission. They're in black leather uniforms that more resemble something on the Sci-Fi Network than any Greek soldier gear I've ever seen. Ulysses is trying to convince a young man that he is "there to do a job," one that he keeps saying is "deemed by fate" or something similar. The action is often interrupted by the "boy chorus," who at times gives the production hauntingly beautiful effects, while sometimes just adding more to the onstage confusion. As the lights come up on what is a dark scene punctuated by the flashlights of the "soldiers," we see a mound of rocks and dirt, and it's explained that a man living amid this wasteland carries a bow and arrows which he must be convinced (by the timid young man) to give up to save Troy. Eventually the blanks are somewhat filled in and we find out that Achilles is dead, the Trojan Horse has already caused its damage, and we guess this is the last effort by the Greeks to save Troy. Thus, Neopolemus, the young man, tries to persuade a ragged and wounded wild man (felled warrior Philoctetes) to help in the effort, by first befriending him, then, spurred by his duty (and Ulysses' threats), to "fulfill his destiny" and leave the island with the soldiers. It's clear at the end that Heaney intended this to be an anti-war piece and at times I got that, but the rest of the play - with its obscure references to some little-known "prophecy" and awkward staging (maybe this is why so many were laughing at odd moments on opening night) - only serves to bury whatever meaning this play should have had. True, the chorus, when the stage is completely theirs, particularly in what can only be called a "bath of preparation scene," is the best part of the show, and makes the rest bearable. But the play itself seems uneven and at times I needed more information to make sense of what I was seeing. The bleak set is a wonder to behold and a credit to scenic designer Blythe Quinlan, but as a whole, The Cure at Troy could use a bit more work, and maybe more extrapolation at the beginning by either the chorus or the actors. Still, the effort should be given an A for daring to put on something that completely operates on a different level for what passes for good theater most places. For tickets and information, call: 2006-443-3856, or go to www.seattlerep.org.