All hail Alan Cumming! In this new adaptation by David Greig of one of the greatest Greek tragedies, multi-award-winning Cumming played the young Dionysus (god of wine, theatre, and wild abandonment among other things) who returns home to Thebes with a cult of female followers to exact revenge on those who had not accepted his divine status. In doing so, Dionysus unleashes his feminine sexuality on the city and destroys social order. As the hedonistic, iconic protagonist, Cumming's performance was a masterpiece. His talent was evident from the beginning of the play when he descended face-down and half-naked from the ceiling, beginning an arresting monologue which flitted between light-hearted, camp giggles to menacing assertions of power. Cumming made the duality of Dionysus' character clear throughout, concealing the deity's vindictive purposes beneath a veneer of innocence. His portrayal of Dionysus as both adorable and disturbing was engaging - it was easy for the audience to fall sway to the god's charms.
      The excellent Tony Curran was Dionyusus' dour nemesis Pentheus, the macho King of Thebes who takes an unpredictable joy in cross-dressing. Humiliated and defiant most of the time, Curran's Pentheus was just as comic when he was trying to be intimidating as when he was trying to be the opposite. The legendary Bacchae - ten beautiful black women in scarlet dresses -superbly sang and danced gospel-fashion, their musical interludes regulating and punctuating the play. When the real tragedy was about to unfold, Paola Dionisotti's formidable Agave brought inexorable burdens of conscience into an otherwise light-hearted production; and Ewan Hooper was in turns delightful and pitiable, as he first complemented Ralph Riach (Tiresias) in a comic double-act and then went on to lament the death of his son in a manner that achieved the height of pathos. To sum up, a perfect acting display on the part of all.
      It was not only the actors who deserve praise. With this stylish production of a 2,500-year-old play, David Greig showed himself to be one of the most innovative and inspiring dramatists in town. Song, dance and special effects that were both stunning and horrific combined to create an edgy and entertaining show which stayed true to the original while also being relevant to the present day. As other critics have commented likewise, if anyone thinks Greek drama involves old and fusty people reciting a dead and dusty text, their preconceptions will be shattered by this electrifying spectacle. For this we can thank Greig's punchy script, which pulls no punches and preserves all the humour of the original ('Man/Woman? - It was a close run thing./I chose man. What do you think?' Cumming teases at his first appearance). We can assume that Euripides, the most raunchily controversial of the three main Greek tragedians, would have liked Greig's interpretation.
      In his programme notes Greig claims that the play is so strong it will survive any failures in his retelling of it. You might think this betrays a measure of insecurity, but watching this production shows what he means. There were criticisable aspects of John Tiffany's directorship, the score and the Bacchae beintg two. The score was a mixed bag of dull and tacky soul and r'n'b, and it let down Cumming's effort to bring Dionysus to life by failing to provide him with decent tunes. The decision to portray the Bacchae as a refined and coordinated chorus missed the main point of the play as hinted at in the title: the strange and ecstatic effect Dionysus had on his followers, the wild frenzy they got into. Despite the Bacchae's fantastic performance of the roles they were given, they were more like disciples than groupies - more balanced than bacchic. Yet neither of these deficits prevented the dramatic force of the play from shining through.
      There was an abundance of contrast and ambiguity inherent in the play. One is Euripides' combination of the comedic with the tragic; the easy atmosphere of the first sections of the play increased the horror of the ending. Next, Euripides' attitude to the gods is both admiring and critical - he at once warns against resisting the power of the gods and reveals their all-too-human weaknesses - bot least (as Cumming's portrayal demonstrates) the fearsome and frail sides of Dionysus. However, the main contrast in the play, strikingly presented, is between the emotional and rational sides of the human psyche and the dangerous effects neglect of one of them can cause. The simultaneous partnership and rivalry between free-living and playful Dionysus and controlling Pentheus is telling: the ridiculing of Pentheus teaches us that too much conservatism is a bad thing, while the gruesome savagery of the bacchic rites indicates that too much excess is unjustifiable. The message is that we must keep these two opposing forces in balance; and also that oppression of the emotional, potentially destructive, part of us only gives rise to more destruction - as when Dionyus, symbol of chaos, wreaks havoc on Pentheus in revenge for his imprisonment. This necessary balance between the emotional and the rational, the free and the forced, is relevant to every one of us. It is relevant in political and sociological terms, as - for example - we recognise that the lack of reason in religious fundamentalism can give rise to extremely destructive effects. But it is also relevant personally, since all of us secretly search for, but often resist, those moments of ecstasy where no holds are barred. So, we are still living in the era of Dionysus. We are all tacit followers of his unique character; and this production gives that unlikely god the attention he deserves.
Sophie Erskine