One of the most exciting things about theatre is the immediacy of the experience, the creative tension between performers and audience. It’s a double-edged sword, though, compared to other artistic endeavours – while we may relish the exhilaration of being pinned to our seats and having our senses stimulated, it can also backfire, and a bad evening of theatre can put one off for quite some time, as we can feel invaded, disturbed, and disrespected. The most memorable theatrical events, however, are those brave enough to risk standing on that knife-edge, to test our boundaries. Although there were aspects of apollo/dionysus (at the Smock Alley Studio) that irritated and confused me, I was utterly engrossed by this brave production, and won’t forget it in a hurry.A boy conjures up a space, a white space, a performance space, a magical space, and two gods, the brothers Apollo, god of reason, intellect and order, and Dionysus, god of play, of excess and sensuality, appear naked to answer his questions. We hear of their loves and passions and arguments, the age-old human split between apollonian rationality and dionysian dissolution is made flesh, literally, in front of us. These platonic dialogues are at times engaging and enlightening, at times slightly pretentious and opaque. But it’s refreshing to at least hear questions such as “Do they exist, Right and Wrong?” and entreaties like “Tell me what life is, what death is.” Like the play I had seen earlier in the same space that evening, The Boy Who Fell From The Roof, the story is about an adolescent, highly intelligent youth trying to make sense of the world.

It is on a far more earthy level, however, that this production touched me, gripped me, even. While at times I couldn’t help thinking that this would be a wet dream for queeny professors of classics the world over, the fact that the naked brothers were played by real brothers, and that the youth was played by a real schoolboy, gave the production a particular edge, and made it into an enlivening, fascinating, and very thought-provoking piece. It wasn’t a modern queer play in the least; this was no modern (ie overt) subversive sexualization of classical themes. It was a gay play only in that the writer, Daniel Austin, director at the Jersey Arts Centre, made a point of listing all the male lovers of both gods, which I found a bit laboured and unnecessary. The magic was in the physical performance of the two brothers, the antagonistic, competitive, physical, loving, aggressive presence of them, pacing and strutting and fighting each other.

I loved the experience of marvelling at the human form, not in a prurient sense, but in the way one would admire the sleek lines of a cheetah or a gazelle. These were tall, slim, handsome, athletic young men, with bodies that showed no evidence of having been narcissistically worked out in any gym, and all the more natural and timeless for that. Given that the origin of the word gymnasium is the Greek word for naked, and that athletes used to train with each other naked, this play managed to convey a sense of what it might have been like back then, in the unabashed naked physicality of the performers, and the un-self-conscious (and therefore, very un-gay, un-modern) expression of masculinity.

The actors spoke in a declamatory style, like amateurs reading their lines. This enhanced the theatricality, the symbolism of the experience, especially as the performers, in particular the Liron brothers, had an assured physical presence on stage, like sure-footed elegant dancers. Although this wasn’t a dance piece, it was highly choreographed, and the pleasure I gained from the evening was akin to how I feel watching good contemporary dance. I loved, in particular, Jonny Liron’s Dionysus as clown, riding his penis as he would a horse – and Dionysus in drunken sexual reverie. As exciting as it was to watch a man masturbate in front of me, it was not in the least pornographic, a feat largely due to the striking integrity and courage of all the cast, committed totally to the production, and utterly dedicated to eschewing all embarrassment and shame. I won’t forget the frisson of the impact of their fights, skin to skin, brother to brother, and the amazing shift of energy when we saw female flesh on stage for the first time.

This is a theatrical oddity, but it is one which succeeds impressively because the potential pitfalls have been intelligently avoided. I had a sense that the actors and writer and director were all treating the magic space of theatre as if it were sacred, and such a stance can only bring a deep sense of respect from this reviewer.

Venue: SMOCK ALLEY STUDIO
Dates:- MON. 14th – SAT. 19th MAY
Time: 9.30pm
Tickets: €12 (Conc. €12)
(Sat. Matinee @ 3pm €10)
Duration: 65 mins.