A touchstone of Greek mythology, “The Odyssey” is one of the most widely read pieces of literature today. More than 2,000 years after its creation, the story is still being imagined in new ways, including a stage adaptation from playwright Kate Hamill, which had its world premiere at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge earlier this month. A contemporary version of Homer’s classic epic, “The Odyssey” succeeds with some bold creative choices and a dynamic cast.
Visually, Hamill’s play marries ancient Greek imagery with modern aesthetics, bringing the centuries-old story into the present without losing sight of its roots. Sibyl Wickersheimer’s set design is simple but effective: The marble walls of Penelope’s home are illuminated by a colorful tapestry, and ropes descend from the sky as Odysseus and his crew take to the sea. An-Lin Dauber’s costumes nicely blend the ancient with the contemporary as well: Penelope’s elegant gowns position her as a figure of authority, while her suitors are decked out in fur coats and sunglasses, like fraternity brothers returning from a shopping spree.
Director Shana Cooper makes transitions seamless, giving the audience just enough time to catch their breath before moving on to the next moment. The production makes use of some clever puppetry and shadow play as well, most notably in Odysseus’ confrontation with Polyphemus, as the shadow of the Cyclops looms large over Odysseus and his men.
Hamill has a specific knack for blending ancient and contemporary language, fusing the two distinct styles into one unique art form. Much like her earlier adaptations of Jane Austen’s “Sense and Sensibility” and Bram Stoker’s “Dracula,” Hamill uses this technique to make a compelling statement on the gender politics of Homer’s “The Odyssey.”
Throughout the play, the men — soldiers and suitors alike — are depicted like animals. Their interests include sex, drinking and more sex, and their conversations are vulgar and unsophisticated. Often, they use double entendres, with one making a reference to women with “huge jugs … of fine wine!”
In direct contrast, the women of the show speak eloquently and straightforwardly. Penelope, in her crowned glory, refuses to fall to the likes of the male suitors who take residence in her castle, always speaking with her shoulders back and head held high.
The women — Penelope, Circe, Nausicaa and the Sirens — hold natural power over the men with their words, not their physical nature. The men do everything: traversing the seas, waiting years, killing children and then pleading with the women for forgiveness. However, the female characters cradle the lives of the men in their palms. Throughout the play, Hamill makes it clear these women stand above men in honor and diligence — even above Odysseus himself.
Hamill pulls double duty as both playwright and actor, taking on the role of the witch-goddess Circe, whose island Odysseus and his crew find themselves on for most of Act 2 (the three-hour play is split into three acts). Hamill’s Circe is spellbinding and full of contradictions — tormented by her past but fully in control of herself, brash but eloquent, terrifyingly fierce but hilarious. She is unafraid to chastise Odysseus: “We’re all monsters,” she says, “but at least I admit it.”
Wayne T. Carr holds his own in the lead role, playing Odysseus with maturity and sincerity; although, in Hamill’s reimagining, he takes a backseat to the talented supporting cast who play a variety of human and non-human characters. Hamill, Alejandra Escalante and Nike Imoru are featured as a trio of women who guide Odysseus through his journey, likely the Fates of Greek mythology. The trio often speak in unison and move in lockstep, and they adeptly transform from stately narrators to animals and back again, without even leaving the stage. Andrus Nichols makes a compelling Penelope, and Carlo Albán is a highlight of the production, playing her son Telemachus from adolescence to young adulthood. Keshav Moodliar stands out as Amphinomus, the charming suitor who woos Penelope, and Jason O’Connell is a scene-stealer in two of his roles, playing the fearsome cyclops Polyphemus and Odysseus’ right-hand man Polites with spot-on comedic timing.
The cast comes together to vividly tell the tale of Odysseus’ journey and the people he touches and burdens. Throughout Hamill’s work, Odysseus is not portrayed as a brave hero sailing back to his former life. Instead, he is a coward, attempting to hide away from his past sins. Odysseus, true to his name’s meaning (“he who causes pain”), leaves behind an ocean of red. From murdering his enemies’ wives and children to drowning his sorrow in liquor to defying and cursing gods and goddesses, Odysseus is the embodiment of a man who becomes larger than life the more his story gets retold. And as the stories continue, Odysseus’ gravitas becomes destructive to friends and foes alike.
Odysseus himself acknowledges this mythological hero creation by saying, “You shouldn’t believe the stories.” However, his acknowledgment fails to erase his failures. When he attempts to find solace in Esaclante’s Nausicaa, she tells him she cannot heal a man who carries such sins. Throughout the play, the women remind us to not trust in grand storytelling and that men are monsters who cannot be healed from the love of the women. To heal, a man must start within. And a man is not a legend, he is human: careless, foolish and cunning.
This carelessness is on display in one of the most powerful scenes of the show — Odysseus’ encounter with the sirens. Before leaving Circe’s island, Odysseus is warned to plug his ears with wax on the next leg of his sea journey. However, after being tied to the helm of his ship, Odysseus disregards this warning, instructing his men to remove their plugs. Immediately after, an eerie yet enchanting song rings out on the ocean. Sirens emerge through a thick layer of fog, floating across the stage in bridal dresses and veils. The sirens bind and blind Odysseus’ crew as they beg for forgiveness. As the sirens drag them off to their deaths in this ghostly scene, Odysseus is forced to watch his carelessness claim the lives of his last friends.
Hamill’s play explores the gender politics within Homer’s classic tale, reimagining the myth through a contemporary lens. While Circe is portrayed as dominant over men, Odysseus is regarded as a noble soldier working out of a sense of honor. However, Hamill and the women of the show emphasize that Circe and Odysseus should instead be regarded as monsters cut from the same cloth. Hamill forces her characters and audience to read the stories through different eyes — those of the loss of Helen’s identity or the quiet hearts of mothers.
“The Odyssey” packs decades of love, war, grief and perseverance into three hours. By reframing “The Odyssey” through a more layered, modern lens, Hamill breathes new life into an ancient story and challenges us to reconsider the stories we tell — and who gets to be the hero.
