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The Oresteia
by Aeschylus

    No doubt about it. The undisputed star of Berkeley Repertory Theatre’s ambitious new production of  The Oresteia is the theater itself. Mounted to inaugurate the Rep’s new 600-seat playhouse, Aeschylus’ ancient trilogy shows the spiffy space to glorious advantage. The huge stage, which can be seen with ease from any seat in the house, encompasses massive stone walls and temple columns beautifully. Someone might counsel the actors – especially in the second play, “The Libation Bearers” – to tone it down a little. (Declamation can turn to stridency very quickly). The wonderful acoustics can carry even a whisper to the farthest rows (which, thanks to the architects, are not all that far away)
    Written in the Fifth century BCE by the acknowledged father of tragedy, The Oresteia takes place in the aftermath of the Trojan War. Agamemnon, king of Argos and leader of the troops, returns home with his mistress-slave, the prophetess Cassandra, only to be murdered in his bath by his wife. This, “Agamemnon,” is the first play in the trilogy. The second play, “The Libation Bearers,” to my mind the best of the three, takes place a few years later. Orestes, son of the murderous queen, returns from exile to find his land in disarray. His father lies unmourned; his sister, Electra, is treated no better than a slave and his mother, Clytemnestra, rules arrogantly alongside her lover, Aegisthus, who was accomplice to Agamemnon’s murder. Whipped into a vengeful frenzy by the chorus of abused servants, Orestes kills the man who has usurped his father’s throne and then turns his knife on his mother. But matricide has a high price. The Furies, a tribe of vengeful spirits, hound him out of the house, the land and nearly out of his mind. (I always wondered if the Furies were outside or merely inside Orestes’ head, a metaphor for his horrible guilt. No matter, in this rendering they are definitely outside, six mud-soaked, bloodstained harridans who dominate the action in the final play).
    If  “Agamemnon” is largely expository, giving the background leading up to the events of its bloody climax, “The Libation Bearers” is all heart and soul, exploring filial love, the passion for revenge and guilt. The third play, “The Eumenides,” kind of wraps it all up. Something of a courtroom drama, it follows the driven Orestes into the temple of his patron god, Apollo, and, from there, to Athena, goddess of wisdom, who conducts the world’s first legal trial, replete with witnesses and a jury of ten. In the end, with Athena casting the tie-breaking vote, Orestes is absolved and the Furies mollified by elevation to a position akin to household sainthood in Athens.
    It helps to know your Homer and a smattering of Greek mythology doesn’t hurt either but not to worry. Excellent program notes and frequent summations and explanations in the text make it easy for even a novice to follow along. The whole thing stems from a prior curse on the House of Atreus (Agamemnon’s father), placed by a disgruntled dinner guest who objected to a menu that featured his own children as the entree. Gruesome stuff? Not to a generation that lines up to see the latest Hannibal Lecter epic on the silver screen. And, although we probably are more fearful of being killed by a stranger on the street than our own children, the themes of family honor and the quest for justice resonate down through the centuries.
    Co-directors Tony Taccone and Stephen Wadsworth do a masterful job of leading us through Aeschylus’ dense and passionate lines (translated here by Robert Fagles). The Chorus really carries the bulk of the burden in the first two plays, speaking individually (Sharon Lockwood and Frank Corrado are standouts here), in unison and in overlapping counterpoint. They also have wisely staged the action in the Greece of pre-history. No polished Phidian marble or Periclean elegance here, but rough stones, homespun clothing, rude sandals or bare feet. It works beautifully and probably is closer to how things were when these events were purported to have happened.
    Unfortunately, the conceit falls apart in the final play. When Athena (a miserably miscast Michelle Morain) bounds upon the stage in white short skirt and boots to match, a huge plumed helmet on her head, it gets a laugh. Morain’s continued delivery, geared to the comic, doesn’t help. Come on. This is tragedy guys; let’s have a little dignity here. The jury–culled both from the cast and members of the audience–files in, dressed in modern-day clothes, beating us over the head with the fact that, yes, the system continues even unto this day. It is jarring.
    Nevertheless, the good of  Oresteia far outweighs the bad. Although Derrick Lee Weeden’s Agamemnon is so wooden one is almost glad to see him fall victim to the knife, Francesca Faridany is luminous as the tortured prophetess Cassandra. L. Peter Callendar’s Herald rivets us with his tale of the Trojan War. Robynn Rodriguez is a regal, if evil, Clytemnestra, and Miriam Laube’s Electra engages our sympathy. Duane Boutte makes a powerful Orestes, his youth and guilt palpable, and he certainly deserves some kind of award for holding his breath underwater on the stage. During repeated dunking in the pool of Athena’s temple by the Furies, each one longer than the last, there was some worry that the actor might not survive.
    High marks to Christopher Barreca’s stunning scenic design and musician Christopher Froh, whose dramatic drumbeats underscore the action to great effect.
    Berkeley Rep’s mounting of  The Oresteia is a monumental achievement and a fitting maiden voyage in its new performance space. To bring these ancient plays to a modern audience is a community service of the highest order. That the endeavor does not sustain its own high standards throughout the entire trilogy is unfortunate but two out of three isn’t bad.