Hephaestus
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Company members mentioned in this article: Heidi Stillman, Tony Hernandez and Brian Sidney Bembridge by Joel Henning This myth is the latest to be mounted by Lookingglass Theatre Company no stranger to the genre. Mary Zimmerman's shimmering adaptation of Ovid's "Metamorphoses," set in and around a 30-foot pool, made a big splash in Chicago and then New York, where it had a Tony-winning run on Broadway. But this time Lookingglass has forged a radically different piece of performance art. "Hephaestus: A Greek Mythology Circus Tale" (through Oct. 2) is not in any conventional sense a play. True to the title character's volcanic association, what we have here is an explosive, dangerous and dazzling sequence of high-wire acrobatics and other world-class circus artistry featuring veteran members of the famous Wallenda circus family, Ringling Brothers and Cirque du Soleil, working alongside some of the bravest Chicago actors ever to fly, leap, contort, hand balance, juggle and walk the high wire on Lookingglass's tiny stage in Chicago's historic Water Tower Works. Yes, there is a script, co-written by co-directors Heidi Stillman and Tony Hernandez. Mr. Hernandez plays the title role to boot. A nine-year-old girl (the altogether poised and convincing little Lia Lankford) is reading herself to sleep with the story of Hephaestus. She is the sole performer who speaks, and does all that needs doing to let us know the story. The rest, I guess, is going on in her head. Let me try to describe it: Think Cirque du Soleil, but with a narrative in English, not in tongues. Then, imagine acrobatics every bit as daring as Cirque du Soleil's, but on a stage not much bigger than a Hummer, with no nets, cables or spotters to minimize even slightly the risks of grave bodily harm to the performers. Now imagine sitting virtually on top of the action. We witness Hephaestus hurtling from Mount Olympus into the world of the sea nymphs. Wrapping and unwrapping themselves in silk panels, the sea nymphs move horizontally and vertically, but always balletically, from the theater's grid to the stage floor. Hephaestus' skill as a jeweler is demonstrated by Thetis (Dallas Zoppe, a circus performer since age six) twirling more glittering hoops than you can imagine from every part of her body. Throughout the evening, Hera (Lijana Wallenda-Hernandez, a seventh-generation Wallenda and the director's spouse) sends her minions down to earth to keep tabs on her unwanted son. They include Iris (Erendira Wallenda, terrifying me as she swung overhead on her slack rope); Ares, the god of war (Almas Meirmanov, a second-generation Ringling Brothers performer from Kazakhstan, who makes Olympic gymnastics look like a walk in the park); and Aphrodite, the goddess of love, to whom Hephaestus takes a shine. Aphrodite is played Olga Pikhienko from Volgograd, Russia, in a lovely, scanty costume. She looks like no more than a bit player in a teeny-bopper TV sitcom until she begins to exhibit an incredible ability to contort, demonstrating her experience in various international circuses since she was 11, including Cirque du Soleil. Finally, Hera asks her son to build her a throne, which he does. She sits on her throne, but not like, say, Queen Elizabeth might. Instead, a bunch of the performers, including Hephaestus, take the throne up on the high wire and carry it across, with Hera precariously balancing in it. I can't imagine them going through this production's four-week run without something terrible happening during this breathtaking finale. Throughout, gods and humans are dressed in beguiling, bejeweled costumes that don't interfere with the death-defying stunts. Costumes and stunts are designed and choreographed by the same Lijana Wallenda- Hernandez who plays Hera. Earth and heavens are ingeniously represented by the set and lighting design of Brian Sidney Bembridge, while the sounds of Hephaestus' forge are supported by powerful Kodo drums and other instruments with music from an ensemble of composers. Lookingglass characterizes itself as offering "Theater without a net." The cast of "Hephaestus" is indeed performing these incredible stunts without a net. But it's not theater; it is spectacle. In this city with scores of companies that annually produce much of what's most vital in American theater, it's OK to abandon plot and character once in a while, but I look forward to Lookingglass getting its performers' feet off the high wire and back on the ground. |
