One of the sharpest and most unpredictable voices in contemporary Greek theatre, writer and stage director Lena Kitsopoulou fuses raw realism with biting humour and a palpable existential unease, crafting performances that teeter between the intimately personal and the profoundly political.
With her latest work, she has no desire to offer yet another psychoanalytic interpretation of Euripidean tragedy, nor to dispense messages tailored to flatter the audience’s sense of “higher” understanding, offering them the comfortable pleasures of theatrical consumption. If anything, she only wants to throw a feast, a raucous gathering in honour of the cul-de-sac shared by gods and mortals alike.
Text – Direction Lena Kitsopoulou
Set & costume design Magdalini Avgerinou
Music composition Nikos Kypourgos
Lighting design Nikos Vlassopoulos
Assistant to the director Marilena Moschou
Assistant to the set & costume designer Aggeliki Politi
Live video Alexandros Vetoulis
Sound design Kostas Lolos
Cast Stella Vogiatzaki, Lena Kitsopoulou, Dina Mihailidou, Giannis Mparitakis, Thodoris Skyftoulis, Yiorgos Triantafyllidis
Singing Lefteris Pantazis
Photography Lena Kitsopoulou
Production management & executive producer – Evangelos Constas / Constantly Productions
When the new religion arrives to impose itself and Dionysus, in his human form, appears as its spokesperson, the problem is already there in plain sight. Something, unmistakably, has gone wrong. Whenever a religion is enforced, we are no longer speaking of faith but of tyranny, of an atmosphere thick with coercion. That which is imposed should never be called religion – especially when it persuades you that it was your own choice.
When a mother kills her child for the sake of a religion or an ideology; when women scream themselves hoarse for any given leader, desperate to tear the clothes from his body; when, more broadly, women fall in love with a man because of his ideology, or because he stands as the mouthpiece of a party – then we are looking at a profound pathology. All the more so when a mother murders her own child out of devotion to such a figure: an ideologue – missionary – preacher – half-drunk on dogma – who unravels at the first taste of the grape and stumbles over his own words.
Given that, one way or another, a mother may kill her child – or a son his father, if only to avoid being killed by him – perhaps it would be better if parents did not raise children at all. Or at least, that they kept their distance. For the good of humanity.