Sometimes Chicago can be a city of theatrical size queens. And no, gutter-dwellers, it’s not what you think. Over the past several years the city has seen ambitious, grandiose, unapologetically lengthy theatrical events: in 2009, the Neo-Futurists put on a six-hour deconstruction of Strange Interlude as part of the Goodman Theater’s Eugene O’Neill festival; just last year, The Building Stage mounted a non-operatic, movement-based, six-hour condensation of Wagner’s The Ring Cycle while Steppenwolf Theater staged Tarell Alvin McCraney’s unforgettable The Brother/Sister Plays over two evenings. So The Hypocrites’ four-hour Sophocles: Seven Sicknesses, an adaptation of all seven existing Sophocles plays (Oedipus, In Trachis, In Colonus, Philoctetes, Ajax, Elektra, and Antigone) by Founding Artistic Director Sean Graney should be a cakewalk. But I still came to the production with a little trepidation – really, four hours of Greek tragedy, with its unceasing bloodthirstiness, its outrageous melodrama, its hysterical reliance on oracles, choruses, and incestuous relatives, and its archaic speech patterns can send even the most jaded, committed theatergoer (well, me) screaming towards the exit pulling their hair and scratching their eyes out. Also, I am a huge, like really huge, fan of Sean Graney, and greatly and deeply admire his tremendous love for theater, his imagination, and his ballsiness; when he succeeds (Edward II, The Mystery of Irma Vep, 4.48 Psychosis), in my opinion, there is no one more creative and ovation-worthy in this town. When he doesn’t quite succeed though (uhmm, Frankenstein?), even his biggest fans (well, me) will be running screaming towards those exits as well. His production of Oedipus a couple of years ago was compelling but it was also marred, in my opinion, by messy symbolism and precocious hipsterism. Well, I am very happy to report that despite (spoiler alert) being showered by stage blood and dirt, I didn’t run towards any exit in the course of Graney’s four-hour epic. Actually, I wasn’t even aware that four hours had passed, since Sophocles: Seven Sicknesses is fresh, funny, brave, accomplished, resonant, beautifully and ambitiously written, a perfect match between the source material and the sensibility of the writer-director and his theater company. Honestly, I could have sat at the Chopin basement theater for another four hours – the show was that good.
Tags: The Hypocrites








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