The Roman philosopher and dramatist Seneca was not exactly an “it’s all good” kind of guy. As a follower of the Greek “Stoics,” he believed in the supremacy of reason (over emotion), and the absolutism of certain “universal” laws. Hence his drama Phaedra, an adaptation of the Greek story about the consequences of a woman’s lust for her stepson. Needless to say, the gods in Seneca’s imagination did not look down on Phaedra and declare: “No worries.”
The firebrand British playwright Sarah Kane, who wrote only a few plays before her death at the age of 28, wrote her own take on Phaedra’s story in 1996. Phaedra’s Love, which has a short run here thanks to The World’s Stage Theatre Company, is inspired by the original (as well as versions by Racine and Euripides), but it’s a retelling with distinctly modern overtones. Seneca’s Hippolytus was a prince who shunned most human contact, preferring to spend his time hunting in the wilderness. Kane’s Hippolytus is a loner as well, but his antipathy is steeped in nihilistic hatred of the world in which he finds himself–a malaise that burrows even deeper than Hamlet’s disgust with the corruption of the royal court. We first meet Hippolytus as we walk into the theater, an unfinished, 
industrial-looking space in the Grand Avenue Mall. He’s curled up on a sofa in front of a television, junk food wrappers and pizza boxes are strewn everywhere. As the lights go down, it becomes clear that he’s watching a scene in which seductive banter between a couple eventually gives way to brutality. He becomes aroused, pleasures himself, and tosses the soiled gym sock across the room.
It’s a harrowing scene, particularly in the intimacy of this raw space. And actor Philip Sletteland and director Leda Hoffman hold nothing back in this scene, and the rest of Kane’s often brutal play. Hippolytus has no use for people, except as conduits for sexual relief to forestall his overwhelming boredom. And he has an unlikely charisma that makes it all too easy.
When his stepmother Phaedra (Amy Hansmann) declares her love for him—“it burns,” she repeats in desperation—he barely looks up from the TV news. But he doesn’t stop her from servicing him, even as he strains to see the TV screen. Phaedra’s humiliation at his hands ultimately sets the final events of the plot in motion, and Hippolytus (and others) meet their ends in a fashion typical to Greek drama. Hippolytus’ final line—cried in the midst of his violent demise—is “If only there could have been moments like this!”
Hoffman gets potent, often emotionally naked performances from her actors (Robert WC Kennedy plays several roles and Jocelyn Ridgely plays Strophe, Hippolytus’ sister), and stages the story inventively. Through the course of the hour-long play, a stage no bigger than a large living room is transformed into a prison cell, funeral pyre and Roman agora through simple theatrical slight of hand.
While Seneca sets the gods and rabble in motion to correct the violation of natural law, Kane makes a much more provocative and modern point. Hippolytus’ Hamlet-like disgust with his surroundings inspires only isolation and an impatient wait for the final exit. How are we to judge his behavior, compared to the gleeful mob that brings his violent end? Is Phaedra’s accusation of rape an act of revenge, or a final gift to her beloved, whom she realizes wants nothing in the world other than to be rid of it. Kane’s gutsy, transgressive writing will leave you with profound questions.
And for that we have Hoffman, her cast, and Gretchen Mahkorn’s company to thank. It’s a brave production of a bold play.
Philip Sletteland and Amy Hansmann. Photo by AntiShadows LLC.
