‘Persians,’ a Gift from Antiquity, Is Timeless

 by Kelly Monaghan

A laurel wreath, please, for the National Actors Theatre and its taut new production of Aeschylus’ “The Persians.” In an era when loose adaptations and “transgressive deconstructions” of ancient texts have become all the rage, playwright Ellen McLaughlin has had the good sense to produce a thoughtful and respectful new version that hews close to the original and honors the spirit in which it was written.

Xerxes (Michael Stuhlbarg) returns from battle and laments, with his mother, Queen Attosa (Roberta Maxwell), the defeat of the Persian army and navy. Photo by Carol Rosegg.

"The Persians," the earliest extant Greek drama, tells the story of the devastating defeat of King Xerxes at the hands of Athens, a tiny city state facing the massed might of the greatest empire the world had known. The piece is an almost ceaseless lamentation. A bloodied messenger brings to a chorus of Persian elders and the dowager queen news of the total annihilation of the Persian army and navy. The ghost of King Darius, Xerxes’ father, is summoned from the netherworld to share the bad news. Eventually, Xerxes himself, the sole survivor of the rout, arrives to beg his mother’s forgiveness for the shame he has brought on his people. It’s short, it’s brutal, and in the original, it’s rather stiff.

McLaughlin has found a way to evoke the ritualistic formality of the original, complete with music, singing and chanting, while presenting fully rounded human beings with foibles and weaknesses that make them instantly

recognizable to a modern audience. The language is supple and powerful, and the play proceeds with a dreadful inevitability that is quietly devastating.

Given the current geopolitical situation in what used to be the heart of the Persian Empire (not to mention the play’s spiteful references to the “boy king” Xerxes) it may be tempting to read too much into the text. In fact, it wouldn't have been too surprising if the play had served as a launching pad for an attack on the Bush administration, much as readings of Aristophanes’ “Lysistrata” were used recently to rally anti-war sentiment.

Fortunately, McLaughlin is too much of an artist to make cheap choices. In her hands, “The Persians” remains timeless, speaking to the human condition throughout history. I suspect this is a script that will be revived often.

Director Ethan McSweeny’s production comes tantalizingly close to realizing the full power of McLaughlin’s version, although I could have done with a little less furniture moving by the Chorus.

The blood-red sand, black walls and metal scaffolding of James Noone’s set and the desert heat of Kevin Adams’ lighting work together beautifully. Michael Roth’s music and sound design is an admirable stand-in for the vanished music of the original. Only the costumes leave something to be desired.

The cast is generally able, with Roberta Maxwell and Len Cariou lending appropriate gravitas as Queen Attosa and the resurrected Darius. Brennan Brown is especially effective as the messenger who recounts in numbing detail the battle of Salamis. One might have wished for more vocal prowess in the service of McLaughlin’s muscular text, but this might be too much to ask in an age when serious actors must mumble for television cameras.

Still, this production exemplifies the National Actors Theatre’s mission of presenting the classics. It lets us touch the power of ancient Greek tragedy and restores our faith in Western culture as something that might be worth preserving after all.

“The Persians” runs through June 22 at the Schimmel Center for the Arts, Pace University, One Pace Plaza, 212-239-6200. $45; $12 students and seniors.