Pulitzer Prize-nominee Sarah Ruhl brings a fascinating odyssey to Milwaukee audiences with the opening of her play Eurydice. Based on the ancient tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Ruhl unearths fresh insight into the famous story of love and loss. Specifically, she plays with the notion of life and death as being intertwined states of being.
Audiences may be more inclined to enjoy the play if they come with the mindset of envisioning the tale as perhaps interpreted by Lewis Carroll. Just as the Carroll's Alice in Wonderland falls down a rabbit hole to begin her adventure, the love-struck Eurydice, newly wed to Orpheus, finds herself on a one-way elevator. It plummets down, down into the Underworld. As the doors open, a fairly heavy rain is falling inside the elevator. This is one of many odd facts that are never explained. (Perhaps it symbolizes Eurydice's baptism into the afterlife?) Anyway, Eurydice steps out of the elevator and encounters all sorts of curious characters.
For instance, she comes across three large, talking stones. Named "Big Stone," "Little Stone" and "Loud Stone," they form a Greek chorus. Their job is to observe and enforce the Underworld's status quo. They mostly speak in unison and comment regularly about Eurydice's late father, who hasn't quite succumbed to the typical after-life lobotomy that erases all memory of the past. He must hide not only his memories but also his ability to read and write. The father writes constantly to Eurydice, hoping that worms will carry his advice to her.
In a touching moment, the father reenacts his role of taking his daughter down the wedding aisle. Everything is in place, except for his beloved Eurydice, who remains on Earth. Once a devilish character lures Eurydice into the elevator, the father's wishes are fulfilled. Overjoyed, he tries to bring back bits and pieces of Eurydice's memory. He even plays a hotel butler for a short time until Eurydice finally recognizes him. They are joyfully reunited. Then Eurydice remembers that there's another love, her Orpheus. Grief-stricken at the loss of Eurydice, Orpheus makes such heartbreaking music that the devil offers to bring her back to him. The catch is that he must not look at her, or she will instantly be transported back to the Underworld. Once she returns to the Underworld, the devil claims her as his personal prize.
The play has its tender and sometimes humorous moments, and director Jonathan Moscone keeps Ruhl's antics in check where required. The lovely, effervescent Lanise Antoine Shelley fully disappears into the role. Her dilemma seems painfully real, despite all the surreal aspects that swirl around her. Like Alice, she struggles to understand the "rules" of a world so different from her own. Eurydice seems to have a stronger bond with her father, played engagingly by William Dick, than her bridegroom, Orpheus (Davis Duffeld).
It's a bit of a mystery why Eurydice chooses her husband over her father, given the casual relationship she seems to have with Orpheus. They don't quire "click" in the opening scenes, which are intended to display their mutual affection. Although Ruhl's play gives the famous story some interesting twists, it still ends sadly.
Duffeld gives an inspiringly underplayed performance as the musically minded Orpheus. On the other end of the spectrum, Wayne T. Carr brings a lustful charm to his stylized portrayal of the devil.
To amplify the Underworld's strange environment, the play is set in a sort of abandoned bathhouse. Most of the walls and fixtures are leaning precariously, as if shifted by an earthquake. The lighting further emphasizes the Underworld's general creepiness. This version of Orpheus and Eurydice may not appeal to purists who are more familiar with other interpretations, but it sure is a lot of fun to watch.
