On the Misconception of Oedipus

‘On the Misconception of Oedipus’ is a prequel, based around the Sophocles tragedy concerning the mythical Greek King of Thebes.  Edvard Westermarck, a Finnish sociologist, once declared that the desire for incest is in us all, and only dissipates in the first seven years of life if we stay with our close relatives.

Zoë Atkinson, Matthew Lutton (an associate director at the Malthouse) and the scriptwriter, Tom Wright, devised this contemporary play.  It is a Malthouse Theatre Production, co-produced by Perth Theatre Company and supported through The Engine Room by CAL Cultural Fund.

The 70-minute performances (no interval) are in The Studio Underground, the State Theatre Centre of WA, at 178 William Street, Perth. With shows at 8.00 pm nightly (8.30 Saturdays), running until the 15^th September. There are 4.00 pm matinees on Saturday.

The set (Zoë Atkinson) is a simple box, resembling a ‘demountable unit’ with a long side removed. The interior walls are grey plasterboard, roughly skimmed at the joins. Three simple, burgundy dining chairs are lined up facing the audience, each with a microphone in front. In the corner is a table with a large, old-fashioned reel-to-reel recorder.

        The room lights come on, the recorder starts. Into the room enters a young man wearing a colourful striped rugby shirt and matching trainers. He, Oedipus (Richard Pyros) is never actually referred to by name. Smiling, he sits facing the audience and then, in a rapidly paced sequence, talks to us about his earliest memories as though we were all gathered in a bar having a casual chat. The rhythmic structure for this soliloquy was almost poetic, with shades of Dylan Thomas.

         Oedipus tells how, as a baby, he was rescued from a car crash and adopted out. Then as a student, he wandered the less savoury parts of the town, where one night he met a lady of the night, an oracle, who predicted that he would inseminate his mother. Oedipus was horrified. Even now, years later, he is repulsed, ends his natter and slams the door as he exits the stage.

       There is a twenty year flash back. Into the same room enters beautiful, tall Jocasta (Natasha Herbert) and her smartly dressed husband, Laius (Daniel Schlusser). The couple are in the middle of a massive argument. For the next few minutes they sit and explain to the audience their situation, at times begging for our help and understanding. Jocasta is desperate for a child, but Laius is adamant never to have any offspring. Having been warned that should he have a male child, then this son would murder him. Slowly the as the argument turns personal, the audience are left to watch as the couple quarrel and the tension develops.

       In a stunningly created scene, we witness the death of Laius. Now Jocasta has lost the love of her life, and being still a young woman struggles to cope with her desires. Meeting Oedipus on the rebound of her tragedy she seduces him.

      We see the couple living together, in the present time (there was even a mention of the Carbon Tax). They are blissfully happy – but for how long?

Tom Wright’s intelligent narrative is brilliant in its construction. First there was the soliloquy, then two alternating monologues, running in parallel. Like the original Greek writers, Wright is fearless, not being precious about who is attacked verbally or physically. We see the inner feelings and discomfort of the three characters laid bare before us.

The pace that director Matthew Lutton and his assistant Daniel Lammin have set, I thought at the time a little too fast, however, in retrospect probably necessary to keep up the pressure of the situation. The movement and audience communication was lively and exciting. The gifted cast coped outstandingly with the many changes of mood – friendly, bickering, full aggression, anxiety and of course deep love. There were some very funny passages that contrasted beautifully with the underlying pathos of the situation. The story deliberately ended unresolved. Although adult in its concept, the play was not visually gratuitously graphic.

For most of the play, the lighting was a simple warm-light fluorescent, and so when the murder took place, Paul Jackson’s bright and dramatic lighting design, complemented by Kelly Ryall's clever mood building sound design, came almost as a shock to the system.

A good solid production, beautifully written and acted.