Helen of Troy, the “most beautiful woman who ever lived,” you know how her story goes. Helen runs off to Troy with Paris, her lover, abandoning her husband Menelaus. He comes after her with his thousand ships and Troy is left in ruins.
Euripides’ Helen is a brilliant variation. In his version it is not Helen that runs away with Paris, but a phantasm created by the indignant Hera in Helen’s image. The real Helen is hidden in Egypt, having been whisked away by Hermes on Zeus’ orders. Helen carries the burden of the Trojan War, her name is reviled, but she herself has done nothing wrong. On the contrary, she struggles to fend off the advances of Theoclymenos, King of Egypt, who wants her for a wife. But loyal Helen is saving herself for Menelaus, who washes up on the shores of Egypt and, by chance, finds his way to the palace where she is living. The main action of the play is the plotting and execution of their escape from Theoclymenos’ kingdom on one of his own ships.
There is an ongoing dispute in academic circles as to whether the play is a comedy or a tragedy. By Aristotelian standards, it is, most certainly, a tragedy. It has a reversal, the Helen history knows is not the original Helen; a Recognition, the scene when Menelaus and Helen are both finally convinced of the other’s identity; and a Suffering, the losses of the Trojan War, which are felt at the beginning, rather than the end.
There is, throughout the play, a sense that the “countless toils have all been toiled in vain.” In this way it addresses the meaninglessness of war. But the play, for the most part, is distinctly comedic. This blend of tragedy and comedy lends itself best to the classification of a “problem play.” Beth Needham, the director of the Classics Drama Group’s Helen, made a valiant attempt at striking this balance.
Tragedy is hard. The moments of seriousness in this production largely felt hollow. Helen’s performance was artificial, her lines recited and not spoken as though they were her own. Steven H. Smith’s Sailor was the exception. While Helen and Menelaus are caught up in their reunion the Sailor comes to understand the implications: the Helen he fought to return to his King was not the right Helen at all. “For all the striving that [Menelaus] strove, he got him naught; while now, without an effort made, every blessing fortune boasts is his.” This crushing moment of the absurd was beautifully delivered, but its resonance could have been carried throughout the play to give a dark edge to the comedy.
Needham’s use of the Chorus was uninspired, save for the moment when Menelaus first spots Helen and hastily approaches her. The ladies of the Chorus run to surround Helen and protect her from the threat. Aside from that brief but humorous bit of blocking they switch predictably and repeatedly between three simple formations. This is a shame. So much fun can be had with a Chorus. To see what I mean watch Woody Allen’s Mighty Aphrodite. He revives the Classical tradition and mixes it with classic Allen comedy. Needham’s treatment is tedious and amateurish in comparison.
The comedic moments, in contrast to the serious, were absolutely wonderful. Nate Axcell’s Menelaus was warm, funny, and barefoot. Even his forehead was expressive. The interaction between Menelaus and Steven H. Smith’s Porter was a welcome wealth of laughs after the stale opening with Helen and Teucros.
Jocelyn Ruano de la Haza’s scene as the Egyptian Messenger was, perhaps, the highlight of the entire play. She delivered a long, wildly funny monologue detailing the escape of Helen and Menelaus and the Egyptians’ failure to prevent it. Only Jordan Kripp’s Theoclymenos rivalled her performance. “My words are too weak for the reality. “Every line was crisp, and he maintained an awareness of the audience, pausing just long enough for laughter. He was exactly the right amount of over-the-top for a fool villain. Kripp even listened well.
I am always most impressed by actors who know how to be silent and really take in what other characters are saying. In a comedic setting, Kripp has mastered this skill. This is his fifth year with the company.
Despite its shortcomings, CDG’s Helen held up the proud standard set by Martin Boyne in 1994 when he presented the group’s first production, Euripides’ Hippolytos.
