I claim no great expertise in Ancient Greek Theatre, so stand to have this review corrected or expanded upon, but it seems to me it took a quantum leap from the legendary ‘story-telling around the campfire’ towards fully-fledged drama where plots, character and themes are revealed in ‘present action’.

It may be relevant to note that Aristotle’s Poetics, in which scholars claim he conceptualised the unities of time, place and action, is dated some 80 years after Euripides wrote The Trojan Women. As with most of the better-know Greek tragedies, most of the key dramatic events in The Trojan Women happen ‘off stage’, and are reported, commented upon and reacted to on stage. And the stage is an amphitheatre: the acoustically suitable gathering place for large festivals wherein the story is being told and somewhat enacted.

Of course the original audiences were already familiar with the legends, the gods and the dramatis personae when they gathers – as for a World cup series these days – to witness the latest encounters between gods and mere mortals.

While in today’s dynamic entertainment environment, productions of Greek tragedies can seem turgid, this new translation by Simon Perris (senior lecturer in Classics at Victoria University of Wellington), directed by Bronwyn Tweddle with a highly focused, articulate and disciplined cast of 17, is fresh and compelling in its clarity.

(Note: I will use the spellings Perris and the programme listings use: Hekabe for Hecuba; Menelaos for Menelaus, etc.)

In dramatising the aftermath of the Trojan War, Euripides is critiquing the arrogant and barbaric behaviour of Greeks, his own countrymen, towards the enslaved women and children they now see as their property. Many elements resonate with contemporary events and issues, such as the subjugation of women, the plight of dispossessed war-torn refugees, and the sense of entitlement among high-status men and consequent miscarriages of justice.  

There is even a whiff of ‘Trumposity’ when we hear how Paris (son of King Priam and Queen Hekabe) judged a divine beauty contest and was bribed with the love of the most beautiful woman on earth: Helen (daughter of Leda and Zeus). It was his taking her from her husband Menelaos (brother of Agamemnon), that sparked the 10-year war with Troy, thus bringing about the very prophecy his parents tried to avoid by abandoning him, as a baby, on a hillside (something of a tragedy trope).

Although the named characters and the Chorus – in which everyone participates when they are not taking another role – speak commentaries on what they think and feel about what’s happened, and the continuing repercussions, rather than ‘being’ that person ‘in the moment’, it is easy for us to identify with it all. Perhaps we assess objectively (as per Brecht’s ‘verfremdungseffekt’) rather than empathise. And as with all well-rendered classics, we marvel and despair at how the more things change the more they stay the same.

Simply staged in VUW’s very own mini-amphitheatre outside Studio 77, the costumes (designed by Ashleigh Dixon and Rudimiller Mafi) add to the clarity.  The Chorus of Women are swathed in earthy colours, the draped heads hinting at contemporary images of Muslim women. The Greek men are in black and so are the Spartans, with the addition of bits of red. 

Half masks – upper-face, lower-face or one-sided – designed by Charlotte Simpson and Simon Davis, enhance the alien look of the Greeks and add flair to the deities who introduce the play: Poseidon (Kesava Beaney) and his niece Athena (Talei Peckham). She entreats her uncle to raise a raging sea that will kill the returning Greek forces, in revenge for their exoneration of Agamemnon’s abduction and probable rape of Kassandra (daughter of Priam and Hekabe). 

As Hekabe, Jessica White sustains the perspective of the defeated old Queen with catastrophic persistence, aided by her Attendant (Elly Love). Despite her saying she is on three legs now, she does not have a walking stick, which I guess adds to the sense of their commenting on their characters rather than ‘being’ them.

That said, Katie Alexander is riveting as she embodies Kassandra’s ‘madness’, alternating an apparent ecstasy at her impending wedding to Agamemnon with a seething internal hatred that promises to consign her captors to Hades.

Annie Broughton’s baby-bearing Andromakhe, Hector’s widow, brings more sorrow to Hekabe with news that her youngest daughter, Polyxena, had been sacrificed to Achilles (the god of war) – only to have her own son taken to be killed so he won’t grow up to avenge his father.

The dynamics between Talthubios (Adrian Tofts), who is reluctant to carry out this order, and his soldiers (Craig Hutchison and Simon Davis) offer a brief oasis of human compassion before one succumbs to a soldier’s training.

James Ladanyi’s alpha-male Menelaos and Charlotte Simpson’s ever glamorous Helen, condemned to death for absconding with Paris a decade or more ago, spark of each other dramatically and she wins back his affections despite Hekabe’s warnings she will betray him again. 

It is left to Hekabe to bury her grandson. The funeral procession and song (in ancient Greek) beautifully rendered. It is a surprise when Hekabe orates in te reo Māori but – as she expresses her pain at invaded-cum-conquered Troy being Troy no more – it adds to the timeless universality of the themes and their local relevance.

A sacred song for women, ‘The River is Flowing (Mother Carry Me)’, also beautifully sung, brings the play to an end as we are left to contemplate the fate of the fleet setting sail for Greece.

While each actor acquits themselves well in the individualised roles, it is the way they come together as a Chorus – led by Darryl Ng, Joel Rudolph, Rudimiller Mafi and Ryan Mead – that gives this production of The Trojan Women its dynamic foundation. 

We get very few chances to see Greek tragedies enacted, and this being a compellingly immediate rendition of the genre, I heartily recommend it. 

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