Capturing the anguish of fate

Theatre Nisha’s retelling of Seneca’s Oedipus in the city utilised a strong script to tell a compelling story

March 30, 2015 08:20 pm | Updated 08:20 pm IST

Scenes from Seneca's Oedipus by Theatre Nisha. Photos: R. Ragu

Scenes from Seneca's Oedipus by Theatre Nisha. Photos: R. Ragu

It never escapes you all through the play, that feeling of impending doom, the anguish of a man who is cursed, the darkness that ironically lifts when Oedipus blinds himself.  Seneca’s Oedipus, unlike Sophocles’, is no anti-hero hurtling towards his downfall. This is a man, intensely human, all too aware of his failings, flummoxed by life and what it holds, torn between filial truths and carnal ones.  

And Theatre Nisha’s rendition of this ancient classic managed to capture the mood of the moment extremely well, essential in a drama as climactic as this one. A plague has swept through the city of Thebes, carcasses line its streets and there are too few of the living to burn the dead. Oedipus (V. Balakrishnan), the king of Thebes, who has fled his home to escape a horrific curse, laments the advent of this affliction, believing that he is in some way responsible for it. He wonders aloud if he should return home, but his wife Jocasta (Sunandha Raghunathan), wife of Laius, the former king of Thebes who is now dead, persuades him to stay back, and so he does.

To assuage the situation at Thebes, Creon (Sandeep John), Jocasta’s brother, goes to visit the Oracle at Delphi and he is told that the plague will cease once Laius’ killer is avenged.

Creon attempts to identify the unknown killer; he consults with the prophet Tiresias (Gayathri Ramesh) who summons the ghost of Laius (Anuradha Venkataraman), to name the slayer. It turns out to be Oedipus himself, who slays Laius in a chance encounter on the road to Thebes.  Further investigation reveals that the woman he thinks of as his wife is also his mother. Seared by the shame and ignominy of it all, Oedipus thinks of death, but then realises that the horror of his crime demands more than death; he rips out his eyes instead, prompting Jocasta to kill herself.

In addition to the main players, there is a chorus of men and women representing the citizens of Thebes, who weave in and out, capturing the dominant emotion on stage through action, chanting, song and narrative.

Balakrishnan’s Oedipus is excellent — the imperiousness of his kinghood soon lapses into the helplessness of being a slave to an unalterable fate. Sunandha’s Jocasta is a sensual, secretive creature, a trifle unscrupulous but endearing enough. And the chemistry between the two is excellent.

Sandeep John played a striking Creon, with his voice and enunciation making the character memorable.

The usage of space, lights and choreography are certainly worth a mention — the part where the chorus recedes into being spectators, the frenzied movements of Tiresias and Manto under bright red lights at the sacrifice, the dogged movement of  a shackled Oedipus away from the woman he is tied to by both blood and passion set the atmosphere beautifully.

The costumes could have been a little more interesting, at least for the main characters. While the white, unembellished drapes looked passable enough on the citizens, they scarcely befitted royalty. And a couple of the accents on stage needed some work; they were extremely raw around the edges and that took a certain something away from the climax of the play.

However, a script as powerful and enduring as this one can hardly go wrong.

The universality of its theme — the vagaries of human nature, its need to tussle against greater forces and the overwhelming reach of fate — makes this a worthwhile experience.  

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