Barnard Columbia Ancient Drama Group Minor Latham Playhouse, April 2, 2015 (Run April 2-5, 2015) Director/Choreographer – Rachel Herzog Composer/Piano – Samuel Humphreys Violin – Isadora Ruyter-Harcourt Producers – Isabel Farias Velasco Kimberly Hunter Stage Managers – Maria Dimitropoulos Talia Varonos-Pavlopoulos Assistant Stage Manager – Kelly Powers Lighting Design – Elizabeth Schweitzer Costume Design – Rachel Katz Makeup Design – Kerry Joyce Makeup Assistants – Kay Gabriel Simone Oppen Translation and Supertitles – Carina de Klerk Peter Shi Rachel Herzog Poster Design – Lauren Green Caleb Simone Faculty Advisor – Helene Foley Cast Hermes – Eli Aizikowitz Ion – Caleb Simone Creusa – Elizabeth Heintges Xuthus – Yujhán Claros Old Man – Vikram Kumar Messenger – Kay Gabriel Prophetess – Simone Oppen Athena – Victoria Schmidt-Scheuber Chorus – Anna Conser, Elizabeth Mc Namara, Lina Nania, Nathan Levine, Verity Walsh Dance Soloist – Chloe Hawkey Even if the performances of the Barnard Columbia Ancient Drama Group were half as good as they are, we’d have to be grateful to them for even attempting to perfom ancient theater in the original language as something more than an academic exercise.Since 1977, the Matthew Alan Kramer Fund has enabled Barnard and Columbia students to offer these productions with some resources for costumes, sets, etc., but the essential ingredient in their success (they usually sell out) is the passionate dedication and hard work of all involved—above all the student actors, who often rise to a level far beyond what we normally expect from even the most serious efforts of colleges and universities.Tags: Essays About NonfictionKentucky Assigned Claims PlanManagement Accounting Assignment HelpDes AudioprothesistesExamples Of Good Problem Solving SkillsResidential Construction Business PlanEssays About Health Care ReformSocial Work Courses Online Australia
Upon hearing this, Creusa believes that she will be sidelined by Xuthus’ bastard and takes measures to protect herself, advised and abetted by a knavish servant who had tutored her father and is especially conscious of the family’s distinction and racial purity.
She plans to have the servant put poison in the ritual wine that Xuthus and Ion will drink at the sacrifice celebrating his finding, but Apollo prevents this.
I once studied the play closely, drawn by its Romantic qualities: Euripides’ splendid lyrics and his evocation of remote antiquity and a primeval landscape, as well as the complex, layered web of irony which permeated Euripides’ treatment of patriotic Athenian myth.
I was not the only one to see this irony everywhere and to draw the conclusion that Ion is a profoundly pessimistic play—not an unreasonable point of view for a time when the Vietnam War was not so far in the past.
The one instance when people speak the truth almost leads to disaster, that is, when the chorus of Creusa’s women servants ignore Xuthus’ death threat and tell her his interpretation of the Pythia’s oracle and what he intends to do about it.
He has misunderstood the Pythia’s statement that the first person he sees on leaving her will be his son—but by gift, Apollo’s gift, not by his own seed.
While Ion is intimately bound to Apollo’s temple, they can approach the god only as postulants seeking a solution through the obscure prophecy of the Pythia, Apollo’s earthly voice.
Hermes, who speaks the introduction, has already told us about Creusa’s rape by Apollo—a violent one—her concealment of it, and her exposure of the child in the cave where the god had inseminated her.
As presented here, the drama revolves around family issues: the desolation of childlessness, the anonymity (or lack of personhood) of growing up as a slave without a family, a possibly barren wife’s terror of her loss of security at the appearance of an illegitimate son and heir to the throne, the affinity between a threatened woman’s behavior and that of slaves, and the function of legitimacy and inheritance in the Athenian royal family’s establishment of the Attic people’s right to their land and eventually, through Ion, of the Ionian coastal cities of Asia Minor.
This may strike you as a rather strange belief to come from Athens, the cradle of democracy, and in this production it seems convincing—largely because Elizabeth Heintges’ Creusa is such an appealing and sympathetic figure.