The Greeks Had a Word For It

Beware of Greeks bearing too clever names; they rarely mean well.

And in Isaac Oliver’s modern retelling of the Electra story, Electra in a One-Piece, we are treated to a bumper crop. Not content with just abbreviating the original names (Clytemnestra becomes Clyt), Oliver also gives us two female sidekicks named Rhoda and Ethel, and psychiatrist Dr. Hamilton, first name Edith. Edith Hamilton, the famous classicist? Get it?

The rest of the show is as overthought. Electra has become Elle (played by Amanda Scot Ellis as a sulky Gidget), who films her mother chopping up and burying the bodies of her father and his mistress. Elle, egged on by a Greek chorus of talking Jude Law, Justin Timberlake and Zac Efron posters on her bedroom wall (the fabulous set is from Kenneth Grady Barker), posts the video on YouTube, where it quickly goes viral; Clyt films a more popular rebuttal; and Elle’s brother Ore (Chris Bannow) films his own video from Iraq. Lost without the adoration of millions of strangers, Elle begins peppering the Internet with whiny pleas for attention as public opinion sways to her mother’s side.

The notion of Clytemnestra becoming a modern feminist icon is an intriguing one, but Oliver merely glances at it before returning to easy satires of suburban matrons (Clyt’s book club meets to discuss The Kite Runner beside her pool), pointed commentary on today’s incessant quest for fame and mockery of online comments. Lots of comments. They’re projected onto the screen while we hear disembodied voices reading them aloud, endlessly. Whatever humor might be gleaned from hearing and reading poor grammar and spelling mistakes dissipates quickly, as the comments become commentary on Internet bigotry.

Also quickly dismissed is the idea of Clyt and Elle starring in a reality show, one revolving around whether or not Elle will murder her mother. But just as the plotline is introduced (by the casually dangerous Michael Brusasco as slimy TV executive Buddy Cox), Oliver dispenses with it.

While the writing can sometimes seem clunky, and David Ruttura’s direction unwieldy (Matt Park has been cast as Clyt’s friend Rhoda, but other than a dress and fake breasts, Ruttura has made no effort to direct Park to play a woman), the acting from the leads is top-notch. Bannow is a believably tormented son who finds himself thrilled at the notion of matricide. Egged on by his lover, Lad (Ian McWethy), Ore eagerly returns to avenge his father by showing his mother no mercy. But Erika Rolfsrud, as Clyt, is nothing less than riveting. Rolfsrud gave one of my most cherished theatrical memories years ago in a production of the play Trout Stanley; here, she’s the only performer on stage that seems to understand the power of Greek tragedy. When we hear (but never see) her proclaim, “I am just. I am just. I am just!” in Elle’s first video, the moment is chilling. And when Clyt is confronted with her children’s weakness in the play’s final moments, she is magnificent as a matriarch disgusted with what she has produced.

That Rolfsrud’s most powerful moment comes on the heels of some sloppy slapstick is indicative of the disjointed tone of the entire production. Greek tragedy mixed with humor is nothing new (Charles Busch’s own retelling of Electra in Die Mommie Die! is proof that the concept works), but instead of a seamless interweaving, the two genres are constantly, uncomfortably jostling one another in Electra in a One-Piece.

Electra in a One-Piece, through Nov. 14, The Wild Project, 195 E. 3rd St. (betw. Aves. A & B), 212-352-3101; $18.