The Greek Art Theatre (“Theatron Technis”) production of Aristophanes’ The Birds which I saw at the Koureion Theatre, in Cyprus, is being promoted as a faithful re-re-re-incarnation of the 1959 production directed by Karolos Koun. That production went on to win the first prize at the Theatre of Nations festival in Paris three years later. With music by the best known Greek composer of the 20th century (Hadjidakis), sets and costumes by the best known Greek painter of the 20th century (Tsarouchis), and choreography by the Greek choreographer who did for Greek theatre what Agnes De Mille did for Broadway, that is, introduced both the vocabulary and the legitimacy of classical dance (Nikoloudi), this revival is ment to be as meticulously ‘authentic’ as possible. (I should also add that the rendering into modern Greek is by Rotas, the most important Greek translator of Shakespeare).
And it really does feel like a production which belongs to 1959. At its time, it was hell ahead of it. Doing a classical play in plain language, with a simple set and costumes, pleasing folksy music by a popular composer, and abstract, evocative designs, by a popular even if acclaimed painter, was a radical break with the ceremonially static productions of the time. Restoring Aristophanes’ original scatology, as well as the explicit attacks on organized religion and corrupt government, was also a rather daring move – so much that the production was at first cancelled by the Greek government.
Almost fifty years later, this is now the orthodox way of doing Aristophanes – at least in Greece, where scatology, homophobic stereotyping, and sexist jokes are still the normal mode of comedy. (I confess that my tolerance for all of the above is thin, though I do enjoy Aristophanes’ puns, on which Rotas is rather weak). Consequently the production seems rather old-hat, if charming at times. The music is still pleasant, and the soloist, Charis Andrianos, is the highlight of the evening – but the choreography seems lifeless instead of simple and elegant, and the costumes seem frayed and unkempt instead of liberating and fantastical. The simulated nudity of the chorus is particularly irksome.
This was an important production in 1959, but beside the pleasure of listening to Hadjidakis’ music in an open air theatre on a summer evening, I don’t see the worth of this revival.
