Curio Theatre's "The Odyssey" -- First Night

Perhaps the most striking aspect of tonight's performance of "The Odyssey" by Curio Theatre at the Calvary Center was the use of the enormous space under the dome where a thousand Methodists were wont to meet for worship in the good old days when parishioners habitually attended divine service and large chunks were not dropping from the stupendous arched and gilded ceilings of the extraordinary Sanctuary. The stage is now roughly the size of two football fields laid end to end, allowing for a cast of thousands -- well, three actually, not counting the Greek chorus-line of several dozen scantily clad maidens miming the narrative which is recited in an underwrought way by the players tapping on bongos, plucking guitars and hammering on chimes. The ambient hiss of Calvary's steam heat system, accompanied at unexpected times by the clanging counterpoint of the old cathedral's dying boilers, added a funky and probably unintentional auditory context for the performance, making it seem at times as though the whole show were being performed on the deck of the Titanic on one of its worst nights.

I should say right upfront that what this show needs is a rating of PG-17 for Graphic Violence, Drug References and Kinky Sex. As far as I could tell, only one child was actually in the audience tonight, but if Homer's epic didn't scar her for life, I don't know what will. The tale, as some of you will recall from freshman English, is punctuated by mayhem, booze, one-eyed giants, more mayhem, drugs slipped into the booze by wanton nymphs, mayhem and really kinky sex starring these larger than life goddesses murmuring "Come hither", turning grown men into pigs, and forcing the hero to spend eternity sharing her Bed of Supernatural Delights rather than going home to his dear wife, which of course for some strange reason is what the dude wants to do. Different strokes for different folks, I always say.

The whole bizarre tale is chanted in an eerie drone by Paul Kuhn, Jared Reed and Jennifer Summerfield. While the vocals were pointedly restrained, and lasted for a good 90 minutes plus without an intermission, I found the tone to be quite seductive and hypnotic -- the narration and instrumentals carry you along so effectively that when the whole thing comes to an understated end with the middle-aged hero and heroine chatting blissfully to each other in bed, somehow you're brought up abruptly by the surprise. It stops, the audience applauds, and the cast disappear into the wings.

The chanting is punctuated at points by choral moments when the whole cast shouts or exclaims together and shakes you from your reverie. Otherwise the smooth and seamless story carries you along like the waves of the wine-dark sea, and casts a sort of spell somewhat like that of Circe, although of course without the baneful bestial metamorphoses. As the play opens, the chanting is in Greek, and perhaps there might have been more of that throughout the show for the mystic effect. One fine moment is when Odysseus has himself lashed to the mast to hear the siren song -- the siren sings sweet and low accompanied by bells and whistles, and at first I thought she was doing it in the original language.

One factoid I discovered is that several members of the company hail from Canada, or have at least spent time in the Maritimes and Newfoundland, and connoisseurs of the lingual arts may detect a Newfie accent upon occasion from one of the cast members. To discover which you'll have to buy a frigging ticket and read the playbill for yourself.