"Eurydice' at the Wilma (2nd review)

My father, the tree

ANNE R. FABBRI

A Love Letter to My Father would have been a more appropriate title for Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice. Officially it’s a contemporary version of the ancient Greek myth of Orpheus, the ultimate musician, and his wife, Eurydice, who dies from a serpent’s bite while celebrating their wedding. Orpheus cannot face life without her and, employing his music, he charms his way into the underworld to rescue her. They’re granted a reprieve from death and permission to return to life on earth with one stipulation: Orpheus must lead the way out and not look back at his bride until they’re back on earth again. Just prior to the exit, according to the myth, Orpheus turns to make sure she is following him. Eurydice promptly plunges to the depths of Hades with time for only one “Farewell.” There is no resurrection.

That was the original version, a mere springboard to this recent work by the acclaimed New York playwright Sarah Ruhl. Reflecting a woman’s point of view, it could have been great and timely (in view of the current political discourse). Instead this Eurydice reduces poor Orpheus to a simpering non-entity and elevates stones to star status (more on them below). Eurydice, as portrayed by Merritt Janson, is just too vague to be credible as someone who worships words and complex ideas and longs to spend hours just reading. Maybe some actress could handle stilted dialogue like, “This is what it is to love an artist. The moon is always rising about your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.” Janson didn’t seem equal to such passages.

Impressing the sophomores

Meeting her father in the underworld, Ruhl’s Eurydice seems comfortable only within his protective space. The play revolves around the father, superbly acted by Stephen Novelli. He has not immersed himself in the waters of forgetfulness, and now in death can devote himself completely to his daughter, with no other distractions; fulfilling every child’s dream of pure happiness. However, as in life, the daughter inevitably abandons her father for a lover. Can she? Will she? Does she? That is the crux of this play, coated with traditional embellishments of classical motifs.

Unfortunately the concept doesn’t quite fulfill its promise. Comparing the father to a tree (it’s in the script) may impress high school sophomores, but in professional theater such an analogy seems, well, sophomoric. Under Blanka Zizka’s direction, Eurydice is a visually striking production with staging that symbolizes the passage of time and eternity, but 90 minutes of this symbolism often seemed like eternity.

The music is a marvel

I did admire the subtle divisions of the Stygian and Lethe waters and the upward passages to earth and life in the brilliant set designs by Mimi Lien and lighting by Tyler Micoleau. And the music is a marvel. Congratulations are in order to Toby Twining, the composer, to the performers and especially to Blanka Zizka, who added this element to the original off-Broadway production. It resurrects Orpheus to his proper status and adds an important element to the performance. From an elevated stage on the left side, the music seemed more eternal than any character.

Can stones steal the show? In this case, yes. They are the Greek chorus of the tragedy but with more personality: Erin Reilly as the Little Stone, Cathy Simpson is the Loud Stone and Gene D’Alessandro– the Big Stone. I loved all of them and their wry, sardonic comments. Triney Sandoval added a note of burlesque as the Lord of the Underworld and Benjamin Huber (as Orpheus) would be the dreamboat of every young woman (in this version he could even compose beautiful music in her honor). Why, oh why, did Eurydice hesitate in that relationship? Is it too late to ask?


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