REVIEW: Metamorphoses 2023 at Theatre Smith-Gilmour/Crow’s Theatre
It’s no wonder Ovid’s sprawling poem Metamorphoses, dating back to 8 CE, has inspired so many adaptations, translations, and theatricalizations: even in 2023, those Greek myths about transformation and its perils hold immense power. Ovid’s poem, at nearly 12,000 lines, chronicles the history of the world, running the gamut from mythical creation story to real-world history, concluding with the death of Julius Caesar.
Metamorphoses 2023 is a new adaptation of the epic from Theatre Smith-Gilmour in association with Crow’s Theatre. A play which brings together elements of clown, dance, and choral movement, Metamorphoses 2023 focuses on visceral transformations — from man to woman (and vice versa), from human to animal, from seeing to blind — and curates a select few of Ovid’s tales as it navigates the highs and lows of human folly. Some of the more famous legends about love and loss (Orpheus and Eurydice, for instance) have been omitted in favour of lesser-known stories about literal, physical transformation — no surprise from this venerable physical theatre company, whose prowess for highly detailed blocking and choreography beams through Metamorphoses 2023.
Smith and Gilmour both wear multiple hats for this production, as director and actor, respectively, as well as co-writers, along with the company. When we meet the kinetic, glowering Gilmour onstage, it’s as Tiresias, changed from a man to a woman and back again at the whim of the gods. Juno (a terrific Neena Jayarajan) and Jupiter (Daniel R. Henkel) wonder aloud who enjoys sex more, men or women, and it seems natural Tiresias could give the best answer: he’s been both. That narrative logic persists throughout the play: the gods face a problem or puzzle, and the earthlings fall victim to their insatiable curiosity. (How interesting, the parallels between Metamorphoses 2023 and the recent Fifteen Dogs, which explored a similar dynamic between the gods and us mortals.)
Eventually, Juno blinds Tiresias, who’s quickly established himself as our narrator. He quickly dons a set of sunglasses and wields a cane.
Each member of the five-person cast then has a moment to shine. Aside from the menacing, magnetic Gilmour, they all take multiple roles. Rob Feetham, a standout in last year’s Italian Mime Suicide and again one here, is a top-notch clown, uber-precise in his gestures and with perfect comic timing. His Narcissus is somehow bashful in his egotism; it’s a masterful performance of a myth which could easily fall into cliché, but doesn’t. Sukruti Tirupattur is a cheeky Echo and poignant Alcyone, a true chameleon as she hops from one role to the next. Jayarajan, too, shape-shifts with ease, and it’s impossible to divert your attention from her soul-scorching gaze — those eyes! Tirupattur and Jayarajan both also bring experience in classical Indian dance to the stage, and it shows through graceful movements of the hands and repeated, powerful strides through the feet. Henkel commands the Guloien Theatre, set up here as a traditional proscenium, with ease. His Tereus is captivating, and awful, and complex; when he eventually realizes who is to blame for the death of his son, it’s a hurt like no other.
Overall, for me, Metamorphoses 2023 is a fine adaptation of Ovid, with splendid performances and numerous delves into the slapstick magic only physical theatre can create. Moments of clown are some of the show’s strongest elements, with big laughs and bigger gestures, and a sequence in the play’s back half involving a pack of centaurs is a wicked reminder of the power of choral movement. But the connectedness of the myths feels at times forced — it’s the problem inherent in Ovid’s poem which Mary Zimmerman’s 1996 theatrical adaptation of the epic so elegantly fixed — and even at a short ninety minutes, this production feels at times overly drawn-out.
As well, it seems there might have been room to further explore the liminal space between genders and sexes, plus the journey from able-bodiedness to disability, on which this cut of Metamorphoses focuses. In their respective programme notes, Smith and Gilmour discuss the play’s footing in “the war between the sexes,” speaking too about the creative discoveries made by working with a cast of many worldviews. Given the play all but confronts trans identity head-on, it seems there was a missed opportunity to include a trans actor in this storytelling. And, indeed, a Blind actor in the lead role of Tiresias.
But there’s much to enjoy about the production, particularly its ability to achieve dramatic effect with little fluff. Simon Rossiter’s lights and Johnny Hockin’s sounds are efficient and subdued, popping up only to progress the various stories without unnecessary aesthetic flourish. Tiana Kralj’s costumes, too, variations on plain black sweatpants and t-shirts, are utilitarian and subtle — her most successful creations are the tiny bird beaks which suggest transformation from human to avian and back again.
All in all, this Metamorphoses is a sturdy adaptation of a poem that will not die, a fascinating examination of personhood and the various stages of uncertainty there within. Its performances, plus Ovid’s enduring perspective on human nature, make it worth the trip to Crow’s.
Metamorphoses 2023 runs at Crow’s Theatre through 2023. Tickets are available here.
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