After Revival of Ancient Greek Tragedy, Iphigenia Can Finally Rest

                                              Written by Theresa Z.
                                                         (2005)
    The sultry, sensuous Aphrodite and the valiant, heroic Hercules are characters that you will not encounter in this daring revival of Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis at Columbia University-Barnard College (April 16, 2005). Instead of hailing the divinities of the ancient Greek world, the inspired students of Barnard, under the direction of Alex Zachary, turned to ancient Greek speaking armadillos and deer to capture the essence of Euripides’ tragedy – a risky feat that distinguishes this performance from those that precede it.

     Who is Iphigenia, you ask? Well, some devoted scholars of Euripides might say: “The daughter that was sacrificed so that her father could win a war.” I beg to disagree. If one were to condense the heartache, the deliberation, the cruelty, the betrayal, the ambition, and the compassion into a single sentence, that statement would be the one that I would make. But you simply cannot. Iphigenia’s cursed soul, hovering above the waters of Aulis, cries out for justice and her words need to be recognized. Be certain to hear them- the wisdom, although subtle, is not lost on an audience even after all these years.

     The complicated nature of a Greek tragedy allows our hearts to weave a convoluted web of loyalty, love and loathe like no other can. This quality is intrinsic to the deliverance of a catharsis at the conclusion of the play. Played by Tom Quick, Agamemnon, the wretched father who yielded to the pressures of King Menelaos, is one that the viewer expects to abhor. What disgust I wanted to feel! What hate I wanted to spew upon the man who was greedy enough to sacrifice his own blood for a victory that would not outlast his guilt! To my surprise, however, I found myself rather empathetic. He was frail and languid; his eyes were sunken in and he clung to himself as if he were unsure of his own existence. His hair hung limp against his jutting cheekbones, and he spoke with a desperation that resembled hysteria of a severe kind. Certainly, he was no bold military general, but an ambivalent man whose humanity was far more evident than his ambition.

     As more characters wove themselves into this Greek tapestry, the impact of Iphigenia’s sacrifice became more and more evident. Klytaimnestra, Iphigenia’s mother, became Agamemnon’s conscience as the family war intensified. She arched herself against the glass barrier in such a desperate manner that it seemed to bend sympathetically for her sake. She shouted with such fervor that even Agamemnon cowered at her words. She was the reason and he the madness. Her performance was simply remarkable.

     Iphigenia was surprisingly exuberant. The director did well in choosing the perfect face for the part – Elizabeth Sacks was mesmerizing from beginning to end. She was a moving blend of melodious, heartbreaking and modern, and she did not fail to take the performance to new heights. Her position in the center of the stage was a true representation of her role as the piece that rendered the entire masterpiece complete.

     Before the viewing of this spectacle, the audience was duly advised to observe the way the characters interacted with each other. Glass panels were placed in a pyramidal pattern on the darkened stage, and as characters entered, they took their positions behind the glass, locked themselves in, and spoke from where they stood. Even fiery outbursts and emotional strain could not break their chains, signifying a lack of communication and even a web of lies and deceit within the family.

     In choosing the costumes for Iphigenia and the cast, the art director acted on an interesting impulse. Emmelyn Butterfield-Rosen of Barnard College chose to paint a picture of a barren desert where the Chorus members were clothed in fur and shells, faintly resembling a disturbing blend of armadillo and mouse. As for Iphigenia, the most controversial character of all, Butterfield-Rosen decided to portray her as a deer with her tail tucked between her legs; a conscious choice that paid tribute to a conclusion believed to have been written by Euripides’ son which posited that divine intervention rescued Iphigenia before her unnatural death. Instead of slaying his innocent daughter at Aulis, Agamemnon is said to have slain a deer – an argument that was formulated to appease Klytaimnestra but is now widely accepted as the final outcome of the intended sacrifice.