Greek to him
Paul Schmidt retools The Bacchae for the ART
by Scott T. Cummings
In the line-up for the 19th season of the American Repertory Theatre, which
gets under way this week, Shakespeare has one play. So do fellow
theatrical
heavyweights Molière, Euripides, and Bertolt Brecht. Paul Schmidt has
two
-- in a manner of speaking.
Schmidt is one of America's foremost translators for the stage.
And in an ART
season sprinkled with venerable classics and world premieres, he will
provide a
bit of both. His translations of Euripides's The Bacchae
and Brecht's
In the
Jungle of Cities will receive their premieres at ART this season:
The Bacchae, directed by ART associate director François
Rochaix,
leads off the season, and the Brecht follows in February, in a production
by
leading American director Robert Woodruff.
Paul Schmidt knows his way back and forth between the study and
the rehearsal
room. His success as a translator stems from his dual status as master
linguist
and experienced playwright and actor. Although Russian is his principal
language (he holds a PhD in Slavic Literature from Harvard and taught
Russian
literature for years at the University of Texas and Wellesley), he also
works
in French and German, some in Italian, and now in Greek. As an actor, he
has
performed with the Yale Repertory Theatre, the New York Theatre Workshop,
Mabou
Mines, and the Wooster Group.
"When you're translating for the theater, it all depends on your
ear," he
explained over lunch a few weeks ago. He had come to town for a few days
to
check out rehearsals but ended up staying more than a week, fine-tuning
much of
the text in response to the work in progress. "I can sit at home and
fiddle
with the Greek, but the real work doesn't begin until you start working
with
actors. They get up on their feet with the text and start talking and you
hear
things you didn't hear before and you're able to adjust on the basis of
that.
It is not that you're writing for specific actors, but when you actually
hear
the physicality of the text or see what type of gesture or movement they
want
to make on a specific line, it influences your perception of how that line
should sound."
The Bacchae is his first translation of a Greek tragedy for
professional production. "The Greek plays are this enormous challenge for
a
professional translator," he admits. "How do you actually go about
re-creating
this thing which has such a history and comes laden with so much
complicated
information? Of all the Greek plays, I think The Bacchae is the
most
fascinating. It is such a stunning take on the world and on what happens
when
you deny the irrational side of your mind. Particularly, it's about a man
denying the feminine side of his nature and what the consequences of that
can
be. I don't know if that's too simplistic, but that's the heart of the
matter."
The Bacchae tells the story of Dionysos, the god of the
vine, wine, and
intoxication, who returns to his Theban birthplace to demand recognition.
He
drives the women of Thebes mad with his spirit; they abandon the city and
take
to the hills of Mount Kitharon for a Dionysian bacchanal. When Pentheus,
the
young king of Thebes and by lineage the cousin of Dionysos, tries to
restore
order, he finds the new god from the East a formidable opponent. Tragedy
ensues.
Tragedy of the Greek variety has enjoyed a higher profile at the
ART since
François Rochaix arrived on the scene from his native Switzerland a
few
years ago. Rochaix followed his 1994 postmodern rendering of Aeschylus's
Oresteia with an ART Institute for Advanced Theatre Training
workshop
production this past spring of Euripides's The Phoenician Women and
The Madness of Herakles. Now comes The Bacchae. "The Greeks
invented everything, all the basic allegories of thought we use today.
It's all
here," insists Rochaix with sincere enthusiasm. "I am experiencing it all
over
again with The Bacchae. It is an extraordinary tool to think about
who
we are and where we are today. I can say, in a provocative way, that it is
the
most modern theater I can do."
Yet for all the play's intrinsic merits, Rochaix has specific
personal reasons
for tackling The Bacchae at this time. Back home in the Swiss
wine-growing regions surrounding Lake Geneva, he's the artistic director
of the
1999 Fête des Vignerons (Wine-Growers Festival), a vast folk
celebration held only once a generation in honor of the region's
vinicultural
tradition and, by extension, of Dionysos himself. The week-long festival
will
include music and theater performances, parades, pageants, and other mass
spectacles, including a bacchanal involving 400 women. "I thought I should
do
the original one at least once," Rochaix says with a smile. "And since I
am
doing the festival with Jean-Claude Maret as
set designer and Cathy Zuber as
costume designer, I thought it would be great for the same team to do
The
Bacchae here."
Oddly enough, when the curtain goes up on the ART Bacchae,
it will be
the third production of the play in Cambridge in a month's time. Cambridge
Rindge and Latin School has a production that closes this weekend. The
Office
for the Arts at Harvard and Radcliffe sponsored a production at the
Agassiz
Theatre a few weeks ago. What accounts for this Dionysian convergence?
Millennial anxiety? Fascination with gender roles? The search for new gods
and
new absolutes? This year's Beaujolais Nouveau? Whatever it is, Dionysos,
the
god of ecstasy, of otherness, and of theater itself, is well served on
Cambridge stages this fall.
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Scott T. Cummings explains the art of translation.