Orpheus

Orpheus, by Jean Cocteau, is a witty, complicated, and thoroughly enjoyable play but it is not, despite the author's claim, a tragedy. But then perhaps one should not take Cocteau's description too seriously since he himself holds very little--and certainly not the Greek legend of Orpheus--as sacred. He uses the story of the Thracian singer as little more than a base on which to build a structure of humor and symbolism and allegory, all deriving their meaning through completely modern references. The result is a curious but somehow still effective blending of the past and the present which left me, at least, always entertained though sometimes wondering just a little what was going on.

For his setting Cocteau retains Thrace but he brings the action up, or perhaps the audience back, to the present. Orpheus, ably portrayed by Paul Schmidt as full of moodiness and intensity, becomes a young poet dissatisfied with success. In disgust he turns his search for meaning to the sayings spelled out by a horse which has followed him home. His wife, Eurydice, however, is left bored by the proceedings, and Susan Howe lends much grace and a sort of charming coquetry to her attempts to snap Orpheus out of his infatuation with the horse. In another departure Cocteau introduces an entirely new character, a glazier named Heurtebise who shows up to replace the pane of glass which Eurydice breaks for good luck. Heurtebise is ultimately identified as a guardian angel to the couple, and Robert Jordan, always a fine actor, presents what is probably his most convincing characterization to date in this role.

At that point Cocteau more or less returned to the original. Proserpine--rechristened Death and played by Nora Shattuck with an air of mystery and grandeur--sends Eurydice to hell, where Orpheus follows her to bring her back. But after the second disappearance of Eurydice and the death of Orpheus himself, Cocteau once more changes direction to add a comic scene involving a Police Commissioner, acted by Richard Gediman, and to tack on a finale which brings the principals back on the stage and explains some of the symbolism.

Even with this final assist from the playwright, much of the symbolism is open to interpretation. It strikes me that the play might be taken as an allegory about the role of the artist in contemporary society, but such a view is by no means the only one possible. One of the great virtues of the play is that the characters seem alive and dramatically interesting enough to support a complex symbolic structure without lapsing into incomprehensibility. George Montgomery's new translation for the Poets' Theatre helps, because the words appear clear and musical even in the more difficult passages. Mr. Montgomery also designed the set which director Edward Thommen uses with great skill. Obviously a lot of talent went into the production, perhaps the finest one the Poets' Theatre staged during this season.