The Bunker Theatre – until 6 July 2019
Reviewed by Claire Roderick
2**
Exchange Theatre’s revival of The Flies, which they first staged 10 years ago, is confused and unengaging. Jean Paul Sartre’s version of The Oresteia isn’t exactly a bundle of laughs, written when France was under Nazi occupation, but with this translation and this staging it becomes a turgid mess.
The plot – The city of Argos is living in terror, with everyone repenting for their ruler’s crime of murdering King Agamemnon as the gods send flies to plague the inhabitants for their sin. Queen Clytemnestra has married the murderer Aegisthus and keeps her daughter Electra as a palace drudge, thinking that her son Orestes was killed by Aegisthus’ command. Orestes has lived in happy exile but returns on the eve of the rite of the dead, when the people believe that the dead walk among them and punish them. Jupiter follows Orestes to Argos, gleefully watching and manipulating as Orestes’ freedom and free will emboldens his sister, leading to tragic revenge.
There is obviously A LOT of exposition to get through, and unfortunately it is deadly dull. Meena Rayann does well as Electra, and Raul Fernandes is impressive as Jupiter, but there are a lot of fluffed lines and mistimed cues. The main problem is the flow of the actors’ speech. Exchange pride themselves on performing their plays in French and English, but the intonation and cadence of some of the cast is reminiscent of ‘Allo ‘Allo.
The set is cluttered with TV monitors and technical junk, with red flags showing the banner of the regime. I think it was meant to be an eye or a planet, but instead of striking fear, it reminded me of an old 1970s TV logo. The red and black uniforms of those not in mourning clothes were an obvious choice, and even the live rock band on stage couldn’t save or energise the production. The sound effects they provided were pretty cool but the songs, shouted into the microphone by the cast, were disastrous. Deaths of major characters in Greek Tragedy always involve long last breath speeches, but David Furlong’s death as Aegisthus was laughable – in a play that is supposed to be blood and carrion-filled, not a drop of blood and a comedy death. And as for the Furies… Fanny Dulin, Soraya Spiers and Christopher Runciman give their all physically, but in costumes that look like your middle-aged aunt and uncle at a BDSM themed party on a SAGA cruise, there is nothing they can do to strike fear into anyone’s heart.
Unfortunately, in a play that should build to a tense and violent standoff between authoritarian mindless obedience and free will, there is no tension, no passion and no spark. The flies will be the only ones creating a buzz about this misfire.