Review: The Bacchae (Citizens Theatre, Glasgow)

Ewan Downie tries to contain the madness

Even if you haven’t heard of the ancient Greek tragedy The Bacchae, by Euripides, you may have heard of “Bacchanalia”, or a “bacchanalian party”. Visions of drunken excess, perhaps in honour of a mad and powerful cult leader, come to mind. If you are familiar with the play, you might remember that the play’s chorus is comprised of a horde of women driven into a joyful frenzy, entranced by the god Dionysus, and together they tear the arrogant king Pentheus apart. It may be gruesome, it may be tragic, but one thing it is not is small. So why, I wonder, has writer and performer Ewan Downie decided to reimagine it as a solo show?

He does not play one character and show the story through their point of view, nor does he play all characters and switch between them. (Although he does adopt an amusingly deep tone when voicing Zeus). Rather, this is a (very committed) performance of storytelling. The carefully-paced script selects those parts of the story that resonate the most with modern audiences, and give us a sense of these characters and the scope of Greek mythology without drowning us. He relays the story, with rich detail and texture, while moving across the onyx black floor as though he struggles to stay earthbound. It is wondrously energetic, but I question whether it does The Bacchae justice.

His ambition is to embody the whole play in one. He is dressed in flowy, genderless garments in earth tones, with painted nails and no shoes. His intention to blur the lines between man, woman, animal, and nature is there to be seen in every motion, but it muddies them all. We come away not with a vivid new conception of the story, but with a sense that he has tried to contain too much within himself. Now for a play about madness, that may be quite apt. Your appreciation of this adaptation will depend on whether seeing the story spill out from a man on the edge will satisfy you, and whether you can garner everything you want from Euripides’s masterpiece from that. As for myself, the grandeur of the story is sorely missed. It irks me, this era that assumes classics can be shrunk just because they are well known.

The performance finishes on a spine-tingling tableau, where (as Pentheus’ mother) he holds a bundle of rope aloft, representing the severed head of the king. It is a striking moment to finish on, but part of its power is that it is the only distinctive dramaturgy in the performance. If this is the millionth time you have seen this play, perhaps this simplicity is what you crave, but it is time theatre makers stopped assuming we have seen it all before. Three stars.

The Bacchae has completed its run at The Citizens'Theatre, but continues to tour around Scotland.

Photo Credit: Louise Mather