"The Cure at Troy" really doesn't cure anything. Except maybe insomnia. This play is not for blue-collar and couch-potato clans. It will appeal mostly to the scholarly set, friends of the gifted actors and seasoned theatergoers.In 1990, Nobel Prize-winning poet Seamus Heaney penned "The Cure at Troy," his poetically-inspired take on Sophocles' play, "Philoctetes." For noted director Tina Landau, the idea was to modernize Greek drama for contemporary audiences. But don't expect "The Cure at Troy" to rival Mary Zimmerman's exquisite myth-driven productions, "Odyssey" and "Metamorphoses," which also played at Seattle Rep. Landau makes a gallant effort, but engages the audience only sporadically. Though Heaney's poetic prose lasts only 90-minutes, it takes 30 minutes to get into it. Even then, the middle section drags. So you listen to a marathon of dialogue until the dramatic denouement. Without an intermission, you're trapped. Like "Philoctetes" (Phil-ock-tah-tease) in this ancient episode.Greek tragedy should be exciting. Homer thrilled us with ancient tales of gods and goddesses and heroes and heroines. And Sophocles won best play in 409 BC for "Philoctetes," though you wonder about the competition. Sorry, it pales in comparison to his masterpieces, "Antigone" and "Oedipus Rex."Heaney may be a brilliant poet, but his play lacks dramatic tension, partly due to Landau's direction. Perhaps she's too awed by the Nobel winner, because this production's high on talk, low on action. In the complicated plot, after inheriting Hercules's magical bow and quiver of deadly arrows, the great Greek archer Philoctetes is en route to battle the Trojans when he's bitten on the leg by a nasty snake. As the wound festers and grows painful, it gives off a stench of blood and pus.Odysseus, the ship's captain, doesn't want someone stinking up his ship, so he dumps the screaming cripple on the volcanic island of Lemnos and sails away. Phil might have died there but for the prophet who foretold the Trojan War would be lost without the famed archer and his magic bow. So, some 10 years later, Odysseus returns to the island, where the crafty adventurer dupes Achilles' son, Neoptolemus, into tricking the wary Phil, so he will hand over his bow. Needless to say, Phil releases his full wrath on Neo-P. But after debating life and death with great intensity, they experience a mystical intervention.By now, we're praying to Mount St. Helens for a volcanic eruption. But not because of the actors. Seattle favorite Hans Altwies portrays the warrior/adventurer Odysseus with ruthless cunning, while Seth Numrich infuses Neoptolemus with youthful idealism. Dragging his bloodied leg across the rubble, the dynamic Boris McGiver rages with Lear-like passion as the betrayed Philoctetes. A talented trio takes turns as Greek Chorus. Director Landau clothes them in modern dress and often has them sing their narratives. They do this rather well, especially Ben Gonio, whose glorious voice soars through the theater. The massive volcano set resembles a beached whale, dominating the stage but limiting the action. One seaman scales the crater. Neo-P crawls into a cave. Phil bangs his favorite rock, tosses his dirty tresses and throws a fit in a small pool outside his lair. Oh, he also brandishes his bow about. Odysseus and crew run up and down a scaffold staircase--twice. Otherwise, it's all talk, talk, talk. Some plays come alive via dialogue; this one almost dies.Thanks to Scott Zielinski's lighting design, we occasionally get a colorful break from the bleakness. But despite fleeting glimpses of burning embers at the volcano's base and blinding red lights at play's end, the production projects a drab gray ambience. This may work for the material, but rivals Lunesta with its numbing vista. [[In-content Ad]]
