Four Greek columns tower over the barren sand, imposing an ancient and unfamiliar world on the actors and audience below them. Balch Arena Theater has been transported from American modernity to Athenian antiquity.
“The Furies” is a tragedy written by the Greek playwright Aeschylus as the third piece in his “Oresteia.” The “Oresteia” was first performed in Athens in the fifth century B.C.E. Despite the millennia that have passed, “The Furies” still stands as a stirring and culturally relevant drama.
The Tufts Department of Theatre, Dance and Performance Studies production majorly deviates from Aeschylus’ text by adding the god Hermes, played by August Kittleson, as a character. It is Hermes who acts as the audience’s conduit to the story of Agamemnon’s murder and its consequences before “The Furies” begins. In a sprawling and casual monologue, Hermes summarizes the plots of “Agamemnon” and “Libation Bearers,” the two plays that come before “The Furies” in the “Oresteia.” For an audience member who is well acquainted with the “Oresteia,” his conversational recount is somewhat tiresome by nature. Yet, it cannot be denied that contextualization is necessary for those who do not have any knowledge of the piece’s precursors; the plot of “The Furies” is dependent on the two plays that come before it.
After Hermes’ explanatory monologue, he falls silent for the rest of the show. He becomes a steadfast companion to Orestes (played by Kai Markley), the young man who killed his mother Clytemnestra (played by Audra Schliewen), for killing his father Agamemnon. It is easy to forget that this Hermes — who is dressed so humbly and behaves so humanly — is a god. Hermes even writhes around on the ground in agony alongside Orestes when the Furies descend on Orestes. Hermes is used not only as the audience’s conduit to the story but also as the mortal’s conduit to the gods.
The Furies are the defining feature of the play. They are a chorus of vengeful primordial goddesses that haunt Orestes as punishment for murdering Clytemnestra. Clad in tattered black fabric and laced into knee-high boots, the Furies are the personification of both shadow and vendetta. Their voices are an unsettling sing-song that is, at times, shrill, mournful and ominously beautiful. Their carefully choreographed movements are so bizarre as to be hypnotic: Fingers claw at the sand, backs arch against the ground and heads are thrown to the sky. Orestes’ terror is believable, and it easily becomes the audience’s own.
The other immortals in the play contrast starkly with the Furies. In addition to the amiable Hermes, there are the gods Apollo, played by Wylie Doak, and Athena, played by Shree Susarla. Apollo is dressed in gold and lustrous turquoise. Athena, jarringly, wears a pristine white suit. Both Apollo and Athena are always shrouded in light from on high, putting a literal spotlight on their divinity and nobility. These two gods are voices of reason and the embodiment of the new order that has replaced the old Furies.
About halfway through the play, the set is altered for the trial of Orestes. Sand is swept and blown away by the tech crew to reveal a tile floor. The scene is set for what looks like a modern-day trial by jury, complete with a bench, tables and plastic water bottles. Orestes, the defendant, has donned a suit and a tie, and so has Apollo. The earlier anachronism of Athena’s clothing now fits, as she is the judge presiding over the case. Yet, the Furies — the prosecution — remain their ancient, otherworldly selves. In the courtroom, their hissing and twisting borders on the comic.
The proceedings of the trial are strange when taken at face value. The argument that Apollo makes on behalf of Orestes is outrageously misogynistic, especially to a 21st-century audience. The fact that Apollo is wearing a contemporary suit while doing so underscores the divide between his ancient sensibilities and the audience’s modern ones. The battle between Orestes and the Furies is, in some ways, a battle between man and woman. The debate explores whether Clytemnestra’s murder or Agamemnon’s murder is a worse offense on the basis of family relations, societal roles and gender. The tech crew composes the jury, and they are split between Orestes and the Furies. Athena breaks the tie in favor of Orestes, submitting to her male bias. Ultimately, the ancient Greek patriarchy reigns supreme — and holds a mirror to the American one in place today. Though distant, the world of “The Furies” is not entirely unlike our own.
Aeschylus wrote the play to end on a joyful note, but the Tufts theater department stages the conclusion as something eerie and indicative of injustice rather than justice. The Furies wear red fabric, a motif throughout the “Oresteia,” that seems to call on all the blood that has been shed. At last, the Furies have ceased their wailing; a jaunty beat serves as a replacement. The wild Furies have been tamed, and they seem happy to descend into the trap door that greets them.
