Oedipus - Sex with Mum was Blinding

Not just a deep dive into the myth but into our relationship to the myth in our own lives - that was (to me) who you portray in this gorgeous piece - you are all of us with our therapists trying to find our way through the myth as people today, and I love what Micha did with the audience and our phones and the whole audience as chorus/chaos - brilliant!

Α unique take on the famed Sophocles tragedy as created by 2018-19 Fulbright Artist Award winner Elli Papakonstantinou.”

This production might leave you with a feeling of whiplash, trying to process the multitude of what you’ve just seen. Maybe you walk away feeling sad, or inspired, or just confused. But for better or worse, Papapakonstantinou’s "Oedipus: Sex With Mum Was Blinding" will be on your mind.

Exiting the theater! Papakonstantinou has created a thought-provoking theater work that proved to be pretty entertaining despite the grim subject matter. Left-handedness, sexual preference and gender identity were tossed out to get the audience thinking, but Papakonstantinou struck a nerve when she challenged the American Dream that if a person works hard enough, he or she can attain their every desire. A great theory, but what if the cards are stacked against you from birth?

“Oedipus: Sex with Mum was Blinding" by Elli Papakonstantinou is not a play. It is a nihilist phantasmagoria, inspired by Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, reinterpreted as a compelling, immersive musical event. The music itself is extraordinarily demanding, requiring trained musicians in every case. As a musician myself, I can’t imagine how long it must have taken to prepare this piece. It was entirely professional and musically thrilling. Kudos for the work it must have taken to get it onstage, not to mention that seeing all these young people working in opera is so encouraging. I enjoyed this production immensely. Every moment is exhilarating and thought provoking. It’s entertaining and remarkably intelligent, well worth one’s time and attention.

Elli Papapakonstantinou has created a masterful and absorbing re-telling of the Oedipus story at the Fisher Theater, BAM… The gruesome drama of the events sung and danced are horrific. Presented with strong videos, smoke and mirrors, with live video-ing of the principal characters, the piece is larger than life. Composers Tilemachos Moussas and Julia Kent use whatever style of music suits the scene. Julia Kent is on the cello, which she loops and layers with electronics. This feels like the work of one mind and heart. Yet we can see that many have contributed to its stunning success. Oedipus is thoroughly engaging opera theater at BAM.

The talented singers demonstrated an impressive range in the piece, and the performers dealt admirably with the demands of the show. Among them, Theodora Loukas gave another powerful, emotionally-charged performance as Woman.

Papakonstantinou may seem indiscriminate, because she can pull from everywhere— she is unafraid of postmodernism, myth, and onstage cameras–the kind many Americans will recognize having seen work by Ivo van Hove—music (Kent plays the cello onstage)—including Philip Glass sounds and an excerpt from “Nature Boy” languages, social media, and politics—“this country is based on racism.” Debatably, she shapes the work into the story of three women, an actor (Nassia Gofa) and two singers (Anastasia Katsinavaki, Theodora Loukas), one classical and the other jazz, who might seem to be refracting the same character, in guilt and trauma. Papakonstantinou is never exactly clear in her excursion through the subconscious—but she understands and elicits the feelings Symborska transcribes, in, as another illustration, the baldly titled poem: “In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself”: The buzzard never says it is to blame. / The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. / When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. / If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean.” The poet finishes: “On this third planet of the sun / among the signs of bestiality / a clear conscience is number one.” Current women’s theatre explicates, however, that no human, at least, has one.