Deception, Choice, and Violence: The Odyssey
Kate Hamill’s refreshingly unique take on a classic epic
Photo Courtesy of Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall
Photo Courtesy of Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall
Photo Courtesy of Nile Scott Studios and Maggie Hall
The Odyssey
Written by Kate Hamill
Based on The Odyssey by Homer
Directed by Shana Cooper
American Repertory Theater
Feb. 11 - Mar. 16
This review includes spoilers.
In the American Repertory Theater’s (A.R.T) new three-act play, playwright Kate Hamill adapts the classic epic poem of The Odyssey into a modern, feminist, and ironically self-aware story. Hamill and Director Shana Cooper, through the benefit of hindsight and modern context, bring to light the text’s flaws, irony, and hypocrisy. However, the play ultimately falls apart in its final act and lacks the “punch” in its final message.
The play is broken up into three one-hour acts, each with its own theme: deception for Act I, choice for Act II, and violence for Act III.
Act I
Act I asks us to question our idea of deception and when it crosses the line from being used for good to evil. Odysseus’s admirers introduce us to Odysseus (Wayne T. Carr) as a courageous, cunning hero who is able to outwit any enemy. When the audience finally sees Odysseus for themselves, he instead is a man who is haunted by nightmares of his past and recklessly puts himself into danger.
This comes to a head in a standout scene of Act I: the infamous fight between Odysseus and Polyphemus the giant (Jason O’Connell). The giant comes to life with enlarged projections on tapestry, with booming voices and ominous background music adding to the terror of the scene. Faithful to the original story, Odysseus tricks Polyphemus into letting him and his crew out of the giant’s cave by proclaiming his name is “Nobody.” Unlike the original, however, the play portrays Polyphemus in a sympathetic light, making him appear naive and child-like. Thus, when Odysseus defeats the giant, the audience is left to question the morality of Odysseus’s actions.
Act II
This theme expands into Act II, which deals with the freedom of choice. The play takes on a noticeably darker tone, with an action-packed rhythm. Major deviations from the source text also become apparent, and female characters take the center stage.
In the original text, Odysseus’s wife Penelope (Andrus Nichols), and Circe the witch, played by writer Hamill herself, were foils to each other, with Penelope representing the devoted wife and Circe the evil seductress. The double standards of the way men and women are treated becomes apparent through the original text; Odysseus is allowed to be unfaithful to his wife and is not shamed for pursuing his desires, whereas Penelope must stay pure and wholly devoted to her husband. Penelope has no freedom of choice, since she is shamed if she exercises it.
Hamill takes the leap to make her version of Penelope defy this notion – Penelope has an affair with one of her suitors, Amphinomus (Keshav Moodliar). She does this out of her own volition, even while knowing this means breaking her faithfulness to her husband. In the face of all of this, Hamill forces the audience to confront their own biases – why is it we feel Penelope’s decision holds so much more weight, when we’ve seen Odysseus traipsing with other women for the past two hours of the play? Hamill makes this message clear: Women, like men, also have desires and are tempted by them. Women are also flawed. They are human, just as men are allowed to be human. And this message works, because Hamill isn’t afraid to change the plot to show these messages, not just tell them.
While humanizing Penelope, Hamill also humanizes Circe. By making Circe self-aware of her own faults, Circe also has the freedom to call out Odysseus. She openly admits she’s not a good person, but demands Odysseus to admit he isn’t one either. Odysseus might be given more leeway and forgiveness by the original text, but in this version, Hamill—and by proxy Circe—isn’t going to let him get away with his wrongdoings. Odysseus still chose to let his ego overtake him, chose to get himself into his own troubles, and chose to consummate a relationship with her. While Circe may be a seductress, Odysseus isn’t absolved of responsibility.
Act III
The last act tackles what it means to break cycles of violence, and reveals what has been haunting Odysseus the entire play. However, unlike the past two acts, this act fails to deliver its message soundly. The act starts off strong: in a powerful monologue by Carr, Odysseus recounts the ambush of the city of Troy through his devised Trojan Horse. It becomes apparent Odysseus is a broken man, beaten down by the horrors of war. No longer is his story a tale to aspire towards; instead, it’s an ominous reminder of the true nature of war. There is no right, no justice, no heroism in war—war can’t be anything but cruelty.
Unfortunately, the rest of the act rushes itself into conclusion. Hamill, interestingly enough, decides to stick to the original ending of the story—one where Odysseus goes back to Ithaca, kills Penelope’s suitors, and reunites with his son and wife. The play closes off with the narration, “We can’t go back. We have to go forward.”
Given all the narrative changes and restructuring of the story, it becomes painfully obvious the original ending doesn’t work anymore. In this play, Odysseus’s arc is about taking responsibility. But does he actually accomplish that in the end? Odysseus ultimately succumbs to his violent and emotional tendencies, and only spares one man in his murderous spree—Amphinomus, Penelope’s other lover—and he does so because Penelope begs him to spare Amphinomus, not out of his own volition. Odysseus is not a different person by the end of the story, nor does he learn his lesson.
Penelope, too, doesn’t receive a satisfying ending to her character arc. The play attempts to give her more agency and choice through the second act, but rips it away in the last act by having her decision to stay with Odysseus or move on with her new lover decided for her by Odysseus. As such, the message of Act II also falls short. With all this in mind, the final theme of moving forward feels pointless. Moving forward can only be positive if it is an active choice to do so in the face of violence. But if there is no choice, the message of moving forward becomes one of defeat, because what can you do but move forward?
Hamill creates a refreshingly new take on The Odyssey that draws out themes and messages from the original. The play isn’t afraid to make the audience think and poke at their discomfort, but it ultimately falls flat in tying these ideas together into a satisfying ending