The Ajax

The Classical Players wanted the Loeb; now they have it and it is far too large for them. Everything connected with their production of Sophocles' Ajax is too large for them: the play, the Greek language, even the stage itself. Outside the bricks of Brattle Street Ajax might have been a pleasant, chummy social gathering of the Classics Department; inside, the Loeb theatre being what it perhaps unfortunately is, the play is an incredible act of presumption.

Indeed, I have rarely seen a show staged with less skill. When, which isn't often, they move at all, actors wander aimlessly and helplessly in front of Todd Lee's immense set, apparently to obscure each other at critical moments. Everyone except the chorus carefully skirts center stage, and the blocking progresses in a series of rigid, oddly one-sided tableaux which ensure that each scene not hopelessly confused is tediously, outrageously static. The Chorus has a good deal of pacing to do, which it does largely out of step not only with itself but with its words and Jeremy Johnston's admirable and elegant music. Part of this, admittedly, can't be their fault, for the music and the offensive patter of what must be bongo drums are all hollowly issuing from a tape somewhere in the ceiling; it would throw anyone off. The only remotely appealing sight during the choral odes is Gustav Solomons' dancing, which is interesting but seems entirely out of place.

But, of course, the real trouble with this version of the Ajax is not the staging, or the confusion, or the uncomfortable missed entrances; it is that only two members of the cast have sufficient presence to command attention in spite of the Greek they are speaking. One of them, Myra Rubin (who plays both Athena and Tecmessa) even manages to come through because of it, for she has a graceful and compelling sense of metre that in itself expresses the sweet grief that Sophocles wanted to express. Donald Lyons as Menelaus uses a different technique; he swaggers with impressive competence both in voice and manner, and that is all Menelaus demands. He runs into trouble as soon as he puts on a longer beard to appear again as Agamemnon; he can't swagger anymore, and he stands still and speaks inaudibly.

Nearly everyone else is ridiculously ineffectual, most of all Adam Parry's Ajax. Parry looks neither powerful nor noble; his great speech on illimitable time is absurd, and one suspects that intransigeance is the least of his problems. So also with Teucer (James Rooney) and the Messenger (John van Sickle), who is not helped by the mop he wears around his chin; and the wily Odysseus (Ray Sokolov) is no subtle man at all, just a ham. They are all hams when they want to emote something; it is much as if they conceived the play in terms of a bad translation of it.

The music is worth hearing, some (but by no means all) of the costumes worth looking at, the play worth knowing. But that isn't enough; those who are curious are likely to find the Ajax a bore, and those who love the language may even think it something close to insult.