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A woman done, and doing, wrong in ‘Medea’

STAGE REVIEW

THIS STORY APPEARED IN

February 14, 2012|By Don Aucoin

Jennie Israel plays Medea in the Actors Shakespeare Projects production… (STRATTON MCCRADY )

There comes a point in the Actors’ Shakespeare Project’s “Medea’’ when the title character, played by Jennie Israel, stands encircled by rocks, her auburn hair in disarray, mascara streaking her face, and declares to the watchful chorus, to the heavens, and to herself: “I am not like other women. I am of some other kind.’’

On one level, of course, Medea is speaking palpable truth. The measure of revenge she will exact on her unfaithful husband, Jason, shortly after she utters those words is indeed the unthinkable work of “some other kind.’’

But an underlying theme of this generally admirable ASP production is the subtler truth that Medea is very much like “other women’’ in one crucial way: She is subject to the sudden, arbitrary, and unfair changes of circumstance that come of living in a world where men make (and remake) the rules to suit and benefit themselves.

This implicit notion of Medea as universal woman - despite the monstrousness of her deeds - sustains an interesting tension in the well-acted production, directed by the ubiquitous David R. Gammons, who just wrapped up “Red’’ at SpeakEasy Stage Company.

Israel, attired in a long black gown, delivers a harrowing performance that makes clear that when Medea challenges the established order in an act of murder, it is also an act, spiritually speaking, of self-slaughter. Nigel Gore is a worthy adversary as the coldly unyielding, self-serving Jason, who discards Medea for a younger woman of royal blood, then tries to persuade her he did it for the good of their two small sons, and even for her.

When Medea first sees Jason, Israel’s face registers an array of conflicting emotions, from fury to heartbreak to icy resolve. Then, as if subject to a force beyond the control of either of them, the couple fall into a fierce embrace, the first of several indications that for this duo, antagonism is mingled with love, or at least passion.

A different and less salutary tension results from Robin Robertson’s sometimes-clunky translation of Euripides’ tragedy. It is pocked with clichés and a few awkward attempts at vernacular updating; the nurse’s opening narration describes Medea as having fallen “head over heels’’ for Jason, and later, Medea sneers at Jason: “Go. Get out of my sight. I can tell you’re keen to get back to the palace and your hot little playmate.’’