Medea

This is the U of Tenn/Kennedy Center production of 1982. Jeffers' translation is as evocative as any I've heard for the Greek plays. I was perpetually stunned by its power. Caldwell's performance burns at white heat beginning to end. I saw Mitch Ryan hold his own against James Earl Jones in play after play in the sixties and seventies, from Baal at the Martinique, to Coriolanus at Papp's Theater to The Great White Hope, but Caldwell turns him into Ralph Bellamy. All he can do on this is what he's told to do. Competently but outclassed. Pleasure also to see Judith Anderson at her most neoclassical. The entire cast is strong. Robert Whitehead's work as the stage director is manifest in their uniform quality. It's all Euripides, of course. And I am grateful for this reminder of who and what he was, and how alive his work and his ideas remain.

I really don't view myself as a suicidal person. However, during a recent viewing of this production, I found myself repeatedly wishing for death. Why? First, the taping of the play is horrendous. Truly, I've seen better use of a camera in family home videos. Now, I can already imagine people gnashing their teeth at this and defending this production by saying it's a taping of a stage play and is subject to some limitations. That really isn't an excuse. I've seen several taped stage productions and most of them outshine this one without even trying. The blocking is horrible, the introduction of Creon is so poorly shot that it's kind of sad, and there are times when the actors face away from the audience and--apparently--whatever microphones they were using.

Let's get into the performances. I understand that some of these performances were critically acclaimed and received awards. If those critics and handlers of awards saw anything resembling the performances I saw ... I can only guess that they enjoyed abundant access to coke in the 1980s.At first, I thought that the actor playing the maid was suffering from Parkinson's or some other horrible ailment. Then I was subjected to the other female performances. They all seem to think making wild gestures and ringing every damn syllable dry with trembling voices makes a good performance. (Dana Carvey used to do an impression that perfectly resembles these performances but I've forgotten the name of the celebrity he was supposed to be sending up.) Fortunately, the guys, with the exception of the fellow playing Creon, didn't seem to be putting much effort into anything, which mercifully gives us some respite from the overacting of the ladies. Perhaps the worst thing I can say about the performances of the men is that I instantly recognized Jason as Edward Montgomerey from Dharma and Greg. In my mind, an actor should be able to give very contrasting performances when playing a Greek hero and a yuppie in San Francisco during the late 20th century. He failed that test.

In summation, watching this marked a few hours off my life that I will never get back.

This is basically the filmed version of the 1982 Tony awarded Broadway revival. It therefore comes across as very stagy, and its' impact is diminished on the small screen. Nonetheless, the camera does capture two great performances that help make it a powerful viewing experience.

Zoe Caldwell is amazing (she won a Tony award) as the mad Medea who exacts revenge on her husband in this classic Greek tragedy. She turns in a performance that I have found to be the best interpretation of the role. Judith Anderson is also astonishing as Medea's maid, and she shows what great talent can do with a small role.

If you get an opportunity to see this production it's worth a look.