Review: MEDEA, @sohoplace

Sophie Okonedo plays her cards close to her chest as Medea. She is snake-like, calm and fluid, but always poised to sink her venomous bite into those who wrong her. Only her eyes, darting back and forth calculating her next move give away her true murderous intentions. Occasionally she sheds an acidic tear. The force of her magnetic performance lies in what she holds back.

For the first time since it opened, the still new @sohoplace's in-the-round-stage feels fully exploited for its dramatic potential. It is intimate enough for the audience to sense Medea's maternal instinct, accentuating her warm affection for her children as she runs her fingers through their hair and restrains an adoring smile. It's also grandiose enough for her to garner a sense of spectacle. After slaughtering her children she emerges gingerly, her hands now coated in venomous blood. She holds them up to proclaim her crime to the audience and the world.

Okonedo electrifies what would otherwise be a lacklustre production. Its simplicity is deliberate, but director Dominic Cooke's attempts to spice it up add garnish rather than flavour. There is a lingering ambiguity to his creative decisions that don't quite pay off like the decision to cast Ben Daniels as all the play's male characters. Each is carved deftly with a caricatured physicality to differentiate them; Creon and Jason strut with imperious arrogance, the latter with an added pinch of paternal vulnerability. Aegeus on the other hand floats with campy lightness offering Medea refuge in his native Athens.

Is it a psychodramatic spin on Medea's fracturing psyche? Is she a victim of the Fregoli delusion where one believes different people are just one person who changes appearance? Or is there a political undertone (all men are really the same)? There are more questions than answers, something that ultimately distracts from rather than sharpens the production's focus. We are too busy trying to compartmentalise concepts intellectually rather than letting the emotional terror wash over us in a wave of blood.

In any case Daniels thrives in what becomes essentially a showcase of his chameleonic dramatic range. Maybe it's a cost saving tactic by not having to pay multiple actors. The chorus are also whittled down to a sparse trio.

The set is equally streamlined. A cluster of granite tiles line the stage, a subtle suggestion of a surrounding sun-kissed Mediterranean landscape. There is also a rain machine, apparently all the rage these days. Its gentle pitter-patter pounds with onomatopoeic menace as Medea takes her revenge.

Aesthetics aside, the direction doesn't quite conjure the momentum needed for the final bloody climax to send shivers of terror down our spines. Despite the palpable strength of its individual parts and performances, there is not much magic beyond their sum.

Medea plays at @sohoplace until 22 April

Photo credit: Johan Persson

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