Writer: Ella Hickson, after Sophocles
Co-Directors: Hofesh Shechter and Matthew Warchus
Choreographer: Hofesh Shechter
The Greeks are having a field day with Antigone, Electra and Oedipus all opening in London in the same week. All by Sophocles, but it is his most famous play that has been most eagerly anticipated. Of course, Hollywood star Rami Malek, playing the lead, is the main reason that the Old Vic’s show has become the hottest ticket in town, but some are not here for Malek alone, but for the dancing, choreographed by Hofesh Shechter, the British-Israeli, who has garnered a cult following in recent years. It makes sense to turn the Greek chorus into a writhing mass of bodies, and Shechter’s idiosyncratic style turns this Oedipus into a feast for the gods.
His ten dancers begin the show in a frenzy of ritual and prayer. Jocasta tells Oedipus that the people of Thebes are attempting to appease the gods by sacrificing animals and even their children. The Thebans want rain; the city is in the middle of a drought, and people, as displayed by the wild energy of the chorus, are desperate and desperately superstitious.
With the emphasis on drought (plague in the original), at first, it seems as if we are in the future, a future that now seems inevitable. Tom Visser’s dramatic lights reveal an unforgiving desert sun blazing at the back of the stage, but apart from this early nod to the climate crisis, Ella Hickson’s adaptation of the Greek tragedy is surprisingly traditional alluding only slightly to our new gods of misinformation and fake news.
With his American accent, Malek could be seen as a smooth-talking American politician, demagoguing to a crowd, but his Oedipus is more likeable than a US president. Malek is tragic from the offset, already weary at the start, coming on stage breathless and vulnerable. He generously offers water to his subjects from his limited royal supply. At some points his Southern drawl reminds one of Blanche DuBois or Bette Davis, especially when he says the lines ‘divinely inspired.’ Malek may be a modern Hollywood actor, but he exudes the era of the silver screen.
Both Oedipus and Jocasta show signs that they suspect the awful truth of their relationship before it is exposed, although that is perhaps because we already know it as we wait for the terrible revelations that must come. On Rae Smith’s stage, a raised lightbox, husband and wife/son and mother lie both exhausted rather than shocked, talking still like lovers.
Indira Varma is a gentle Jocasta and when she does shout in despair, it doesn’t quite match the rest of the performance, where she seems resigned to her fate, even before she fully realises the truth. Almost stealing the show from Varma, Malek, and Shechter’s chorus is Cecilia Noble’s blind Tiresias, who sees deeper than anyone. A commanding figure, Noble also brings some comedy to the unfolding tragic events. Tiresias demands that the gods be obeyed.
And yet, it’s the dancers, the rabble of Thebans, who need to be appeased. They are the danger in this Oedipus. Their moves are precise, but brimming with violence and ecstasy. Shechter’s score, until it rains, complements the feeling that there is chaos and change at the doors of the palace that Jocasta’s beliefs in reason cannot keep at bay. Oedipus takes comfort in the Oracle like an insect deliberately flying into a cobweb. He has no free will, and the dancers keep on dancing.
If the dancing scenes were removed from the play, this Oedipus would barely last an hour. Instead, the show runs for 100 minutes and not one of them is wasted. Figures emerge through Visser’s blackest shadows as if gnawing away at Oedipus’s power and position. He’s left to fight for his life like a defendant in court, and the audience, like bloodthirsty spectators in the public gallery, is spellbound.
Runs until 29 March 2025
The Reviews Hub Score
Raindancing
