So I'm still not sure exactly how this happened, but sometime between the hours I was at the Rome Fuimicino Airport and I got home, Liz, Shivani and I decided to go watch Oedipus Rex at the ancient theater in Epidaurus. And somehow, while I was still recovering from the epicness that was Rome, Liz organized, got all the tickets and transportation sorted, and before I knew what was going on, I just....went to Epidaurus.
Background on Epidaurus: The huge ancient theater has pretty much perfect acoustics and you can hear a match being struck from anywhere in the audience. The soft limestone muffles the audiences' murmurings while amplifying the actors' voices, so no one has to be miked. The epic mountains behind the theater is the backdrop for whatever play is being put on, so there is no need for a curtain or painted scenery, and even now, despite the light pollution from the lights at night, the stars are still bright and twinkling in the night sky.
To get to Epidaurus theater, there are special bus tickets that you can purchase for 10 Euro that take you straight to the theater. The last bus left from Terminal A at 5:15 and because I was a little bit late in getting out of the house, I had to really book it to Terminal A. I finally decided I would try to get a taxi, but 5 taxi drivers passed me by because they didn't know where the terminal was. This was a mystery to me because it's one of the two long distance bus terminals in Athens, and if you're a taxi driver, you should probably know where it is because lots of people take that bus out of the city. I even had the address and the name of the terminal written down for them and one of them told me to speak English when talking to him. Excuse me? I wasn't trying to speak Greek. *huff*
But I finally got a taxi driver who was totally sweet and drove fast to get me there as fast as possible. We cut it really close but I got there at around 5:12, three minutes before the bus was to leave. The important thing was that I got on the bus, and, from the night before, I conked out almost right away and awoke in the mountains of Epidaurus.
The occasion for the play was that it was part of the Hellenic Festival going on in Greece right now, full of art, music, and culture. So, there were a lot of people there to see the play. First, before anything, we ate these epic hot dogs, where they punch a hole in a baguette (with a machine like this). If you can't really tell, they stick the baguettes on these stake things, with the approximate diameter of a hot dog. This machine simultaneously toasts the buns and when they come off, ketchup and mustard are squeezed directly into the hole; then, the dog is dropped in. It was a super efficient way of preparing what were giant hot dogs, probably the most efficient thing I've seen in Greece all summer. In addition, there was none of the awkward extra bun situation, where the hot dog is just slightly short of the bun and you're left with that little bit of extra bun that you don't really want to eat but also don't really want to waste. This was the perfect fit of hot dog, bun, and condiments. The only drawback is that you couldn't control the number, kinds, or amount of condiments that went into your dog, but it was worth it. Also, this guy's windbreaker totally made our wait in line worth it.
After consuming our delicious hot dogs, we made our way up to the theater. The most amazing thing about this theater is that it's mostly stayed intact since the 4th century. And it doesn't look like it's been refurbished much. The 15,000 seats have been cleaned, for sure, and in some places, where the limestone had broken away too much, it had been replaced for continuity of the theater, but otherwise, it looked much like the one we had seen in Delphi. And it was full of people.
Because we had bought our tickets a little late in the week, we sat in the Upper Tier, in General Seating. This means, first come, first serve the best seats, and I'll just say that we got some pretty great seats. Here's the view of the stage
And the theater
And the three of us!
We made some British friends, one of whom geeked out with Liz about Classics. I think she missed having someone to geek out to Classics about since none of us are Classics majors, and being in Greece, didn't have anyone to really share her excitement with her. Most of the people on our trip are history majors, but focused on Western Europe in the post medieval period, so it's not really the same. And then you have me, who doesn't really like history to begin with (though this trip has changed a lot of my appreciation for it) and doesn't know anything about ancient Greece. She's constantly having to explain things to me and I am so grateful that I have her to do so.
I think I would feel as she does if I went with a bunch of CogSci majors to explore CERN or something. Sure, they're nominally science majors so they can appreciate the amazingness of the LHC, but they don't have the same physical science background that you need to truly get what an advancement in particle physics technology this is. Being a chemistry major, particle physics was always my favorite part of physics (the only part I actually liked, in fact), so the LHC is just mindblowing to me, but I can see how if you didn't know the physics behind it [and I still don't completely know], something would get lost in translation. But I digress. I was just really happy that Liz found someone to squee with for a little while.
Before we knew it, the sky had darkened and the lights came out. The cast entered wearing these weird translucent robes, and at once, I knew this was going to be a more modern version of the play. And it was. If you can tell, the stage was made of these white blocks, and during the performance, the chorus would move these blocks to create a stage with holes in it, to give the play a more dramatic effect. Certainly an interesting interpretation. Although I'm not as familiar with Oedipus as some of the compadres, I was able to follow the story generally with Liz prompting me in my ear [the play was in the original Greek] and when Oedipus came out with his eyes gouged out, that was possibly one of the most epic and gross moments of the play. Even sitting from so high up, I was a more than a little grossed out; even now, thinking about it, I'm getting a little queasy but that may just be from the gigantic coffee I had this morning.
The most amazing thing, though, was seeing everyone come out and start talking and singing. Without microphones. And being able to hear them. Let me explain: In the spring of 2010, Kelsey and Max decided to put on Man of La Mancha, a play/musical, and somehow I got roped into being in it and doing costumes. Because we basically had no budget and all of us were super busy, (me with Phoenix and Danceworks and the AACC and schoolwork), we did the whole thing with no sound system except the live orchestra, no light system except those that came with the venue, and no stage (the part of Stiles Dining Hall that we used was on the same level as the audience). And because we had an orchestra full of brass and woodwinds and percussion and no microphones, it was really hard to sing/talk over them. There were a lot of moments during rehearsal where, sitting in the front row, I couldn't hear anyone singing straight at me. Much of this was due to the acoustics of the dining hall, which really doesn't need acoustics anyway because it's a dining hall, and the loudness of the orchestra, and as a result, the lack of microphones hurt us a little bit. But don't get me wrong; the final product was AWESOME almost solely because of the energy of the cast. But I digress again. This was the reason I was so appreciative of the acoustics of the theater was that I was sitting super far up and yet, I could hear everything be said. Now if only I could understand it...
Let me just mention how gorgeous Jocasta's dress is. For reference, Oedipus is on her left.
The ride back to Athens was a little nervewracking if only because it took us a while to find the right bus. People were rushing everywhere and no one was particularly helpful, but at last, we got on a bus and made it. The time back to the apartment: 2 AM. Time to leave for Rhodes: 3 AM. Get ready...
Don't make it sound like you were forced against your will. You volunteered, like everyone else. And you had a blast, like everyone else. And you worked you a** off, like no one else (except perhaps Max and I).
ReplyDeleteIf you want to see epic eye gouging, you should see King Lear. The Earl of Gloucester's eyes get gouged out with the line "Out vile jelly!" which is the GREATEST line the Bard ever wrote.
I'm curious about the production. Traditional Greek theatre dictated that there were never more than three people on stage (usually two, often one. But NEVER FOUR). Even roles such as the chorus was played by one man who came out and left just like that. How was this production managed? I can see there's a skene, so they obviously followed some traditional greek formalisms, but I see what looks like a sizeable chorus. My theatre geek side wants exquisite detail.
I was told in ENGL 129 about a production of Oedipus that had the chorus as a group of pregnant women, to accentuate the line explaining that women were not giving birth, and were many many many months overdue.
I think there were 7 or 8 in the chorus? Definitely 3 women and 4-5 men. It may have been that the men played double characters as well, though I couldn't really tell. Also, this was really not traditional Greek theater though it was performed in an ancient theater. Evidenced first by the speaker system in the background, then by the costuming, and the fact that there was a little bit of a chair dance in the middle of the play. When I say chair dance, I mean that they picked up chairs from offstage and waved them around on stage. It was a bit strange.
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