OEDIPUSSY

OEDIPUSSY

at the New Wolsey Theatre Ipswich

07.03.2012

for The Public Reviews

We can never know how the Ancients would have experienced Sophocles on stage. But it's a fair bet that the knockabout tragedy now touring under the Spymonkey flag is true to the original only in the broadest sense.

Yes, the age-old story is clearly told, from the curse of Laius to the blinding of Oedipus. But the telling is interlaced with physical comedy and silliness of all kinds, and knowing nods to genres and geniuses galore: Pythons, Tati, Bond movies, panto, seventies sci-fi, the National Theatre of Brent ...

Not easy to encapsulate this unique experience in a few words; impossible to explain how it manages to be both coherent and chaotic, hubristic and hilarious.

The set is simple, starkly white, with tall narrow doors in a kind of colonnade – much fun is had with costumes, headdresses and props just too wide for the aperture. Another running gag – no surprise to Wolsey regulars – has our four players struggling to find the way into the upstage wings.

They spend most of the show in "space nappies", with huge bin-like headgear. But there are Trekkie frocks, too, and the inspired "winding sheets" in the opening narrative.

The two shepherds – Lucky of Thebes and Plucky of Corinth – owe something to the Comedy of Errors. They are superbly done by Aitor Basauri, in his sheep costume and his wig/beard. Aitor also did Merope [in his native Castilian], Laius, and a dire stand-up routine, desperately hoping for some "hacklers".

Inner monolgues are a feature. Petra Massey gives us too much information, Managing Artistic Director Toby Park, in his "don't-tell-the-others" moment, bitterly regrets his wasted life, and Stephan Kreiss angrily anticipates his half-century [in Lancaster] and plans a German version of this very show [now that I would love to see ...].

Many of the routines are classic fare – the torture of Tiresias – the singing lepers [beautifully realised, incidentally] are about as edgy as it gets. The music, Samuel Barber aside, is enjoyable pastiche, with live sax and vocals over the backing track, especially the title number, redolent of those over-blown rock operas that once filled our stadiums, and the "Known You All My Life" climax of our hero's rather sweet meeting with Jocasta.

Emma [Kneehigh] Rice's production has lots of clever comedy [the cat, the ball of wool, the sack] and quick visual gags [the sacrifice put to good use as a designer bag], not forgetting the self-referential asides: never try to have a conversation with a dramatic device.

The final blinding, though, with blood cascading down and spreading across the stage, would be effective in any version.

"Nobody Does It Better" over the curtain call; certainly true of these consummate clowns, skilfully subverting one of the greatest dramas in the canon. Who on earth could find them "middle-aged and safe"?

spymonkey presents oedipussy from Patrick Schulenburg on Vimeo.

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews