Must-see 'Medea' opens at Wilbur

Some people are under the impression that movies hold an upper hand to live theater because movies can do "cooler" special effects. The Abbey Theatre's production of Medea, now playing at the Wilbur Theatre, proves that live theatre can equally impress, or maybe surpass, film with its use of effects. And the result is shocking and devastating... but in a good way.

This production of Euripides' passionate and tragic masterpiece originated in Dublin's famed Abbey Theatre in 2000 and is now on a 2002-2003 international tour. It is directed by Deborah Warner and stars Fiona Shaw in the title role.

Upon first entering the theatre, one takes immediate notice of the elaborate, but seemingly unfinished set designed by Tom Pye. The background suggests the front of a new house with a glass wall and central glass double-door, in front of which sits a small wading pool, which is magnificently utilized by not only the director but also the lighting design of Peter Mumford. The stage is covered with slabs of concrete to be used for construction, which suggest the frozen status of the both literally and metaphorically "broken house."

Euripides' more than two millennia-old tale continues to not only capture the interest of audiences today, but also to disturb them in a way that usually only a great psychological horror flick can. The story begins with some very high stakes: Jason, Medea's lover, has run away to marry the daughter of Kreon, the King of Corinth. All this comes after Medea killed her own brother and betrayed her homeland for his sake, not to mention that, in this production, he has left before their house is even built _ a move which Shaw calls "classic."

What is not classic about this production, however, is the horrific staging of the final scene where Medea kills her own children to let Jason, and the world, know she will not stand being ditched for a more "politically advantageous" wife. In this final scene, all the lights go off except for the wall behind the glass wall, which is lit up glossy white, and Medea is seen with her two children walking in white bathrobes. To compliment the sinister atmosphere of the moment, in which the audience is frozen in absolute fear, a deafening blast emits from the speakers, overpowering the screams and pleas of the Greek chorus, and makes the audience just wish the whole thing would end.

Finally, the dreadful noise ends, followed by darkly ironic light guitar music, and Medea enters with blood on her white robe, dead children in her arms. And for the first time in all my live theater experiences, there are people in the audience crying and crying because they cannot hold the tears of shock and terror inside. Warner and Shaw's interpretation of the vengeful Medea adds to the impact of this appalling display because this Medea becomes mentally unhinged by Jason's actions and it is never quite clear if she will kill her children until she actually does.

Shaw's performance is simply riveting. She enters with understated poise, beautifully and comically contrasting the rage inside of her, and then even when she lets it all out, she maintains a kind of humor about the situation and her crazed condition. At one point, she even mocks the somber music playing in the background as if to say "Yeah, yeah, I'm the crazy, exiled Medea whose husband left her. That's me!" In this way, Shaw's Medea continually plays up to the audience as well as her crowd of sympathizing fans (the Greek chorus), who have come to see their coveted icon.

Warner's directorial interpretation of the translation by Kenneth McLeish and Frederic Raphael plays up this celebrity aspect, which helps bring the story into a modern light. The Greek chorus becomes involved in the action as ordinary women who have come to the estate of the enraged, disheveled Medea to support her, and she does not disappoint in living up to her celebrity image. They applaud her when she convinces the king Kreon (Struan Rodger), coming to banish her, to allow her to stay one more day _ giving her an opportunity to exact her revenge. Yet, when they hear her plan to kill her children, they shrink away _ some even vomit _ and plead against this action.

On the whole, the acting was very commendable, especially Jonathan Cake as Jason, Derek Hutchinson as the Messenger who recounts the gruesome deaths of Kreon and his daughter, and the entire female chorus. Unfortunately, though, many words of the play are lost due to the actors' Irish accents, and nowhere is this more irritating and obstructive than in the opening scene of the play. In the background, Medea is heard tearing through the house, occasionally screaming and shouting, while the nurse (played by Siobh? n McCarthy) is frantically moving around and updating the audience on the situation. The actress undermines her first duty to the audience _ to communicate the story to the audience _ by her lack of vocal clarity, which is a result of her effort to portray the distress of her character.

This inward-directed style of acting becomes counterproductive, especially because Medea's pacing and screaming in the background already indicate that something is amiss. In fairness to the actress, however, this is something the director should have picked up on and remedied.

Yet, since she did not, the net result of the nurse's opening scene is a misunderstanding and a disinterest among the audience. This gives the play a very slow start and causes confusion for those not already familiar with the play. Fortunately, from the moment the Greek chorus joins her onstage, the performance takes off and the bloody climax, which may be the most intense moment I have seen on stage, makes one forget the nurse's opening altogether. In short, go see this show.

Tickets are on sale for $25 (student rate) by calling Ticketmaster at 617-931-2787.