Blown away by Nightingale

I’m not going to lie. When Walterdale Playhouse announced a mount of The Love of a Nightingale, I had a few reservations. Could a community theatre with a mixed bag of artists do justice to Timberlake Wertenbaker’s feminist retelling of the Greek myth of the rape of Philomel?

By the end, I was completely blown away. Directed by Alex Hawkins, Nightingale is action-packed, refreshing and at times bizarre. Most importantly, it resonated with the audience. As one woman sitting several seats away from me said during intermission, “This is the best play on in Edmonton at this time.”

For those of you who aren’t mythology buffs, the legend centres on a three-sided relationship between Philomel, her sister Procne and her brother-in-law Tereus, King of Thrace.

Procne, daughter of Athens’ ruler, is given to Tereus as his wife. Feeling ostracized by the Thracians, Procne sends for her sister. Tereus accompanies Philomel and on the journey falls in love with her. When Philomel flirts with the ship’s captain, jealousy overtakes Tereus and he strangles the officer.

Tereus then lies, telling Philomel that Procne is dead. When she rejects him he rapes her. Although her body is bleeding, her spirit whipped, Philomel mocks his virility and threatens to expose him. Fearful of a downfall, Tereus brutally rips out her tongue with his bare hands.

Tereus believes Philomel, now mute, is silenced for eternity. However, this feminine spitfire has fashioned life-size puppet dolls. And in a play-within-a-play, she tells her story to a crowd of women that includes Procne. Retribution is served and justice is paid her dues.

Wertenbaker’s adaptation cautions of the dangers power wields and the silence that comes from it, both chosen and forced. Feeling isolated in her husband’s land, Procne asks, “Where have the words gone?” Niobe, Philomel’s servant, has readily seen Tereus’ lust, yet she cannot speak. And no one dares mention the rape.

The characters are so large that a lesser group of actors might have created buffoonish personalities. However, these performers delicately tread the line between the sublime and their characters’ inner suffering.

Within the space of decade, Marsha Amanova’s Procne goes from a young woman on the cusp of love to a wife and mother tortured by loneliness. Justin Deveau’s Tereus finds the right balance not only between sliminess and royalty, but also between self-justification and inner conflict.

And finally Rachel Kent’s Philomel is extraordinarily powerful as a tigress that refuses to be subdued. We are attracted to her heroic qualities as well as being repelled by how far she will go to receive justice.

Kudos to the dream team of designers led by Joan Hawkins’ stunning, but simple multi-level set with a cyclorama and three giant wings, and Geri Dittrich’s timeless costumes.

Rich in text, Nightingale is only enhanced by Hawkins’ snappy direction in exploring its many textures and keeping the action moving at a quick pace. While some plays are forgettable, this one just left the audience wanting more.