Tantalus

Bungee jumping off bridges, free-climbing sheer rock faces, running marathons, hurtling down some highway on a road luge, or snowboarding into space: These may be your idea of extreme activities, ways of pushing body and mind to the limit.

But I would challenge any runner, biker, climber, snowboarder or luger to take on the challenge that is "Tantalus" - a 12-hour marathon of Greek theater that explores the intricate web of whys and wherefores, curses and punishments, passions and violence surrounding the Trojan Wars.

This massive $10 million co-production, involving the Denver Center Theatre and London`s Royal Shakespeare Company, may soon appear in pages of the Guinness Book of World Records as the longest play ever presented (in the Western tradition), leaving former contenders such as the RSC`s "Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby" and Peter Brook`s treatment of "The Mahabharata" in the literary dust.

This nine-play cycle by English playwright and scholar John Barton ("The Hollow Crown" and "The War of the Roses") was some 20 years in the writing, which is twice as long as it took the Greeks to conquer Troy.

It is a theatrical undertaking that many thought would never be produced. And they probably would have been right, if it hadn`t been for Donald Seawell, founder and chairman of the Denver Center Theatre (and a former Broadway producer and executor of the Center`s substantial endowment fund) who substantially underwrote the project. It was Seawell, along with Denver Center Theatre`s artistic director Donovan Marley, who made it possible to unite the British and American companies under the leadership of director Peter Hall.

The marathon premiered recently at the Stage Theatre of the Denver Performing Arts Complex, an elegant arena stage, the configuration of which closely resembles that of a classic Greek amphitheater. Not only was this a first-time experience for the audience, which had committed itself to go through the entire cycle in one sitting, it was the first time the actors and technicians had presented the show in consecutive acts; this following 25 weeks of rehearsals.

Often amazing in the inventiveness and power of its staging (as directed by Hall with assistance from his son, Edward, with sets and costumes by Dionysis Fotopoulos and lighting by Sumio Yoshii), the production features a core of eight actors - four American, four British - who play a multitude of roles. They are accompanied by a 10-member female chorus that made its initial entrance as a bevy of bikini-clad suntan worshipers on a sandy Greek island beach. They, in turn, are supported by an ensemble of nine actors who play soldiers, slaves, etc.

On the day of the premiere, in an effort to aid those who would be attending "Tantalus," The Denver Post printed a few survival tips, urging would-be patrons to bone up on their Greek myths, suggesting that "a little study helps to follow the story." "Definitely wear comfortable clothes," the writer advised, and drink lots of water, "it`s a long time in a theater seat."

Clearly heeding this advice, water bottles were in abundance as the Prologue to "Tantalus" began shortly after 10 a.m., with a cleverly conceived scene in which lady tourists succumb to the advances of an aged souvenir salesman, who, in his white suit and Panama hat, might be the ghost of Lawrence Durrell. First, the man tries selling them plaster statuettes of the gods. When that fails, he says, with a hint of mystery, that for a fee, he will tell them the most amazing story.

His story ended more than 12 hours, eight intermissions, with a lunch and dinner break, later. And in that time a large segment of the great tapestry that is Greek mythology was unfolded: The universe was created out of chaos, making way for the birth of Titans and the pantheon of Olympian gods who ruled above the clouds, beneath the waves and in the grottoes of the underworld. And, in turn, the storyteller explained how their rapacious sexual appetites and capricious behavior gave birth to the generations of demigods and mortals.

Barton`s goal in writing "Tantalus," however, was not to retell familiar tales. Instead, the challenge the Cambridge graduate set for himself was to fashion an "Epic Cycle of the Lost Bits" - alternative accounts of events, characters, causes and results surrounding the Trojan Wars, accounts that do not appear in the verses of Homer and those of the Homeric bards who set down "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey."

The title figure, Tantalus, was cursed by the gods for trying to share the secret ambrosia of eternal life with mortal men. His punishment was to be held in the depths of the underworld, forever standing in water that he cannot drink, with fruit just beyond his grasp and a giant rock above his head that might fall at any moment. He is also the great grandfather of Agamemnon and Menelaus (the husband of Helen).

And while Barton`s lyrical (if sometimes pretentious and repetitive text) gives prominence to the familiar characters of the myth, he pays as much, or more, attention to a large group of lesser-known figures, critical players in the events leading to and following the sacking of Troy.

How many people recall the character of Thetis? She was the immortal sea nymph who was captured and raped by the mortal Peleus, himself a former sacker of Troy. Out of that union came Achilles. But because he was such a nasty infant, who bit his mother`s nipples until they bled, she left him to be raised by bears, which accounts for his lack of social skills.

A list of some of these other lesser-known characters includes Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, who by masquerading as a girl was able to penetrate the Trojan fortifications and free the men who were lying concealed in the belly of the wooden horse. There is Hesione, who was the daughter of King Priam`s father, Laomedon, whose kidnapping by Heracles from Troy set the events of the second Trojan war in motion, along with the more familiar cause, the "abduction" of Helen by Paris.

There`s Polymestor and Polyxena, Calchas and Telephus, Hestia and Artemis, and on and on. There are times when this succession of passionate love affairs, devious plots, rapes and murders takes on the aura of a mythological soap opera, a Greek version of "All My Children." There are other times when it is as dry and wordy as a doctoral dissertation. But the one persistent point that Barton drives home is that there is a definite relationship between the lives of the mythological heroes and heroines and the contemporary horrors of our modern world, which is equally ruled by the cause and effect relationship of deeds and choices.

So, it is no accident that the refugee camp that houses Hecuba and the women of Troy, following the sacking of the city and the brutality they suffer, exactly resembles a refugee camp in the Balkans or Africa or the Middle East.

"Tantalus" is presented in three sections: "The Outbreak of War," "The War" and "The Homecomings." Each of these sections is then subdivided into three play segments, each of which runs about an hour. Part I: "Prologue," "Telephus" and "Iphigenia." Part II: "Neoptolemus," "Priam" and "Odysseus." Part III: "Cassandra," "Hermione" and "Helen and Epilogue."

Ever the skilled director, Hall (with his son) creates a succession of scenes that introduces an indelible, remarkably diverse cast of characters, whose identities change as easily as the masks they wear during the course of the performance.

Among these, it is impossible not to be moved with anger and anguish by Alyssa Bresnahan as the tormented Cassandra, who sees what is to come and tells all, only to be hated, abused and ignored.

Greg Hicks emerges as the play`s most sympathetic warrior, and ultimately its most tragic, Agamemnon. He is a rational man who is condemned to live and die at the hands of an irrational world where humans are the god`s playthings. If Hicks` Agamemnon represents the struggle to remain a good man under the worst of circumstances, Robert Petkoff, first as Achilles, and later as his son, Neoptolemus, represents the face of madness and irrational blood lust, along with the pragmatic soldier, Odysseus (Alan Dobie).

David Ryall, a seasoned British character actor (and longtime member of the National Theatre), plays the role of the storyteller with a perfect combination of reverence and tongue-in-cheek humor.

During the numerous intermissions and meal breaks, the conversation was animated.

"Does it work? Why doesn`t it work? Did you stay awake?" and "Who was so and so?" were the most common questions. There was also a debate as to whether drinking wine with lunch was such a good idea. Ultimately, stimulants - sugar and caffeine - were judged more necessary for survival.

By the beginning of the final play, everyone was tired and more than a little testy.

But the coup de grace was delivered by Barton himself. In the conclusion, which deals with "The Trial of Helen" at Delphi, (some seven years after the end of the war), Helen presents a most unusual defense, claiming that she never actually was abducted by Paris and taken to Troy, rather that the gods whisked her away to Egypt, where she remained for the entire period of the war. It was an airy fabrication, a replica, who went in her place.

If that were true, Barton seems to be saying, then how can the gods be worthy of respect, let alone worship? How could they let so many men and women die for nothing? And as the saga ends, back on the beach where it began, the storyteller essentially says that it was ultimately disrespect for the residents of Mount Olympus that brought about the death of gods.

There is a uniqueness to the marathon theatrical experience that is unlike any other, because the audience is taken on such a substantial journey. But when one finally comes to the end of the "Tantalus" odyssey, the feelings are vague and ultimately unsettling, possibly by design. There is certainly none of the warmth and comradeship that were so much a part of "Nicholas Nickleby," or the aura of immense spirituality that were omnipresent in "The Mahabharata." Perhaps the reason, just as Barton says, is that "Tantalus" is an epic of missing bits. And even after 12 hours, these bits are not enough.

From Denver, "Tantalus" will travel to England, and then, if funding can be raised, to Greece. It is quite possible that this will be the only time the entire epic is presented in the United States. Like the gods, it`s flawed. But like the gods, it has the power to amaze.

(c) Copley News Service

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Author: Jim Farber