Tick Tock, Mother F*cker: Oedipus Review
Throughout, the cast and crew at Studio 54 swing for the fences. They wind up with a double. There’s nothing wrong with an extra base hit—but it isn't quite the home run that they’re trying for.
Everyone knows Oedipus. Plot twists are not everything, but this is the plot twist—and it’s a dramatic minefield, requiring careful navigation..
The latest production from Studio 54—a new adaptation by Robert Icke—tackles this challenge head on, with a large digital clock counting down from the moment the curtain rises. In play, it’s an election night countdown, ticking down the seconds until Oedipus officially becomes the leader of an unnamed great power. But we all know what it really counts towards. Icke doesn’t ignore the elephant in the room, he puts up a prominent, red LED display for all to see, in a way that adds tension throughout. The clock also highlights an impressive accomplishment that might otherwise go unnoticed: the entire Oedipus story is told over two consecutive hours. We see every second of the action in real time—a great feat. Admittedly, there are moments where the clock becomes a distracting crutch—Icke should trust his audience more—but generally, it’s an effective, lurking presence as we watch Oedipus and company march onwards towards their inescapable fate.
Similarly present is the steady drip of (literal) mother fucking jokes. Icke leans on the audience’s knowledge of the ending rather than trying to hide the ball, winking at the salacious truth every few minutes. But akin to a dish prepared by a cook who goes too heavy on the pepper, what should be just a sprinkling of seasoning becomes overpowering. It’s a shame, because there are a few gems that would have shone if given room to breathe. (I’m a particular fan of the near Shakespearean delivery of: "You are my wife and my mother … breath … needs to accept that.")
Still, Icke’s Oedipus is more than a story about a man who married his mother; Icke has managed to simultaneously expand and shrink the classic tale in an intriguing way.
On the one hand, this adaptation is a large-scale political drama, with an entire nation hanging in the balance. The characters never name the country (a savvy choice), but Oedipus stands on the cusp of becoming a world leader, with all the responsibility—and power—that entails. The stakes are high from the very first scene as Oedipus the politician gives a dramatic election day press conference, the video filling the entire proscenium front. As the titular character, Mark Strong feasts on a monologue reminiscent of House of Cards in its large, dark, political grandeur, and the focus on the body politic feels more apt than ever. In our world, as in Oedipus's, "The water's been poisoned, and we've grown accustomed to the taste."
Unfortunately, the political themes never deepen from there. It's a tricky tightrope walk to be sure, but the underdeveloped politics leave something to be desired—for example, an explanation of why a white politician born in a seemingly majority white country is facing a birtherism conspiracy would’ve been nice. Conceptually I like it, but the execution isn't quite 100%.
Even while the show opens with this grand political framing, Icke also shrinks Oedipus down into a—forgive me— classic family drama. Most characters are Oedipus's family members—wife and mother (two different characters), kids and brother-in-law—and the action centers on their final, celebratory dinner before political victory changes their lives forever. The contrast between the personal and the political is a bold and, for the most part, effective dichotomy.
Throughout, Icke, Strong, Lesley Manville (as Jocasta), and the rest of the cast and crew at Studio 54 swing for the fences. They wind up with a double. There’s nothing wrong with an extra base hit—but it isn't quite the home run that they’re trying for.