Making Medea an enlightening spectacle
Medea (out of four) By Marc Antoine Charpentier. Libretto by Thomas Corneille. Directed by Marshall Pynkoski. At the Elgin Theatre, 189 Yonge St., to April 29.
The story of the sorceress Medea, who wreaks terrible vengeance on her lover Jason when he falls in love with King Creon’s daughter Creuse, is filled with the sort of intense drama inherent to much of Greek mythology.
Euripides’ play explores themes of love, duty, honour and vengeance, and stands as one of the great tragedies of Western theatre.
Opera Atelier’s current production of Medea (on now through April 29 at the Elgin Theatre) paints a surprisingly nuanced portrait of more than an angry woman; it explores the relationships around her.
The company, known for opulent productions filled with big dresses and court dances, here fuses its signature style with modern-leaning visual designs, moving the narrative along while teasing out the psychologies of its characters.
Co-Artistic Director Marshall Pynkoski’s production of the 17th work by Marc-Antoine Charpentier, with its smart casting and theatrical approach, underlines the chemistry so vital to the mythology, and in doing so, creates a highly watchable spectacle that is equal parts enlightenment and entertainment.
So while the score has all the tuneful niceties you’d expect from music of the late 17th century, it also points to a gamut of theatrical possibilities, ones which director Pynkoski, together with Co-Artistic Director and choreographer Jeanette LajeunesseZingg, highlight to wonderful effect.
Yes, there’s the occasional harnessed performer dropping in from the top of the stage, along with Michael Legouffe’s beautiful costumes and Gerard Gauci’s painterly sets — but there’s also fiery performances and some fine chemistry that elevates the work.
Pynkoski emphasizes relationships here by casting performers with great natural chemistry, as well as blocking in a way that reinforces intimacies and deceptions.
Every kiss, slap, toss and stumble brings an immediacy, both to the story and the music; passion becomes motivated, human, real.
Especially electric are the scenes between Jason (tenor Colin Ainsworth), Créuse (soprano Mireille Asselin) and Médée (soprano Peggy Kriha Dye), all of whom are, at various points, visually triangulated. Michelle Ramsay’s dramatic lighting creates a simultaneous distance and fusion that allows one to contemplate the idea of intimacy and its sour twin, betrayal.
Both lighting and choreography frequently join to illustrate character psychology; whether it’s leaping, swashbuckling swordsmen swirling in the mind of Créon (bass baritone Stephen Hegedus), or unitard-clad dancers writhing before a simple, red-flame backdrop, nearly everything in Medea works to remind the viewer that this is a complex, important tale for our times.
While the score has the tuneful niceties you would expect from 17th-century music, it also points to a gamut of theatrical possibilities