“Elektra”
Seeking justice or demanding revenge? From the slightest remove, these two aggressive qualities can be hard to distinguish, one from the other. And, as we see all too clearly in “Elektra,” which the Greek playwright Sophocles wrote in 413 or maybe 412 B.C., revenge mostly arrives in the packaging of violence, and of course violence begets violence.
All of this is food for thought as one sits under the vaults of heaven at the Getty Villa’s outdoor Barbara and Lawrence Fleischman Theater. Each year the Getty corrals an impressive creative team and a fine cast and then presents an ancient Greek or Roman drama or comedy. Often they arrive with spruced-up translations so we won’t scratch our heads or fall asleep on our neighbor’s shoulder, although it would have been hard to imagine anyone nodding off last year when Culture Clash – that fabulously funny East L.A.-based comedy trio – got their hands around Aristophanes’ “Peace.”
“Elektra” sports a poetic new translation by Timberlake Wertenbaker and it’s directed by Carely Perloff. Although the backdrop is always the same – the north façade, or museum entrance, of the Villa itself – it never fails to impress. The décor and the props are usually minimal. As someone famous would say in later centuries, The play’s the thing.
Agamemnon, the Mycenaen king who commanded the Greek forces in the Trojan War, sired a handful of children with Clytemnestra – including Iphigenia, whom in various accounts of the tale was sacrificed to appease the gods. Well, that’s where the trouble started. When we come in, a couple of millennia after the fact, Clytemnestra (Pamela Reed) and her consort Aegisthus (Tyrees Allen) have murdered Agamemnon after his victorious return home, and now they live in fear of reprisal – as the chain-link fence around their estate not so subtly declares.
Two of the remaining children, Orestes (Manoel Felciano) and Elektra (Annie Purcell), have been seething with rage, whereas the other daughter, Chrysothemis (Linda Park), realizes that her best course is to lie low and adapt to the vacillations of fate.
Elektra, of course – and don’t forget that the Elektra complex, as opposed to the Oedipus complex – concerns a daughter’s excessive attachment to her father – will not let matters rest. She prowls about like a hyena, or François Truffaut’s Wild Child, and self-proclaims that she’s an expert on lamentation and misery. It won’t take us two minutes to give her the benefit of any doubt.
She craves revenge, or radical justice, and longs for her brother to appear so together they can restore honor to the family. Orestes – who will in a sequel by Aeschylus be persecuted by the Furies – carefully plots his return, sending ahead his Tutor (Jack Willis) to throw Clytemnestra off the scent by describing the fictitious demise of Orestes during a chariot race (presumably the one won by Charlton Heston).
If the early minutes of the play become somewhat trying (Elektra’s agony does start to wear thin), it perks up immediately when Willis generously paints a big picture of how Orestes met his end. Some viewers will find this to be the most memorable scene of the entire evening. One might even imagine that this is how Henry Miller would have regaled us about his youthful adventures in Paris.
“Elektra” is also enhanced by the graceful, subtle acting of Pamela Reed, who actually ennobles the role of Clytemnestra and puts shadings into what might have been a black-and-white story by explaining what drove her to retaliate against her husband.
Also, as happens often in a play that relies on disguises and deceptions, and Shakespeare was certainly a master of this, several of the characters have their emotions tugged back and forth. Elektra comes to believe that Orestes is dead, and she wails so hard when she receives his presumed ashes that they can even hear her on Mars; but then later, when her brother gradually reveals himself to her, that profound grief turns to joy. “Cleverly dead and now so cleverly alive,” she says, and this reunification scene is a pleasure to behold, like two halves of a song – melody and lyrics – finding each other and embracing.
The cast is rounded out by Olympia Dukakis as something of a one-woman or downsized Greek chorus, abetted by Sharon Omi and, providing a mournful soundtrack, cellist Theresa Wong and percussionist Michael Wells, performing music composed by Bonfire Madigan Shive. What we learn is that centuries may pass, but human passions lay at the heart of our being and clearly always will. And when they get the upper hand, as they do here, more than just the cat comes leaping out of the bag.
Elektra is playing at 8 p.m. on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at the Getty Villa in Malibu. Tickets, $42 general; $38 students and seniors. Closes Oct. 2. Call (310) 440-7300 or go to getty.edu. ER