An ancient Greek story is on its way to becoming a contemporary Canadian classic. The musical Dion: A Rock Opera, based on Euripides’ The Bacchae, has opened at Coal Mine Theatre, and is playing to appreciative and full houses.
This sung-through rock opera marks the first world premiere production in the celebrated 10-year history of this company. Dion was co-created by Coal Mine co-founder and co-artistic director Ted Dykstra and his longtime collaborator, Prince Edward Island poet and novelist Steven Mayoff. The show is directed by theatre and opera director Peter Hinton-Davis, with musical direction by Bob Foster.
The idea of reimagining The Bacchae first captured Dykstra’s imagination when he performed the role of Pentheus opposite Colm Feore’s Dionysus at the Stratford Festival in the early 1990s. During the pandemic, he and Mayoff began developing the work – and after four years of toil, here we are. I take an active interest in new Canadian work, and I’ve been actively excited about Dion since I first read about it in the company’s season announcement last year. The production pays off that excitement – in spades.
The last time I was at the Coal Mine, I experienced Jani Lauzon’s prayer circle-set Prophecy Fog. Returning to the theatre for Dion, I was struck immediately by the radical – actually the total — transformation of the space. The stage, designed by Scott Penner (who also designed the costumes) is a lengthy rectangular red runway stretching from one end of the theatre to the other. The audience sits in two rows on either side of the runway, facing each other. Round mirrors on opposite sides reflect the space and its occupants, creating an environment of refraction and duality that sets up the play’s dominant theme of questioning binaries and rejecting singular (especially heteronormative) views.
This theme – kindled by Dion into a fiery, kinetic and emphatically modern rock musical — surfaces organically from Euripedes’ masterwork of classical Greek theatre. The Bacchae is a seminal work in the Western literary canon, celebrated for its rich exploration of the conflict between dualities like chaos and order, emotion and reason, freedom and control, and civilization and savagery. Its narrative follows the god Dionysus as he returns in disguise to his birthplace Thebes, where he seeks to establish his worship and punish Pentheus, the city’s ruler and his half-brother, for denying his divinity. Dionysus’ vengeful journey is marked by a chilling transformation of Theban women into his frenzied acolytes (the titular Bacchae), his manipulation of Pentheus and Pentheus’ mother Agave – and the tragic downfall that ensues. An intricate dance of deception, power and madness culminates in a shocking climax that probes the nature of the divine, the dark recesses of human nature, and the complexities of belief and skepticism.
From the start, Dion’s modern reimagining of The Bacchae rivets. Pentheus (Allister MacDonald) is the conservative right-wing leader of a city-state “somewhere in time”. We’re in an oddly modern, yet timeless world that juxtaposes modern behaviours like tweeting with ancient artifacts like the thyrsus, Dion’s pine cone-topped staff. The blind soothsayer Tiresias (a breathtaking SATE, balancing grounded gravitas with exquisite, soaring vocals) sets the scene. Pentheus arrives home to learn that all the disenfranchised in his kingdom (the play’s dazzling, diverse chorus, portrayed by Max Borowski, Saccha Dennis, Kaden Forsberg, and Kelsey Verzotti) have taken to the hills and become the devotees of Dion, the nonbinary demigod who claims the god Zeus as their father. According to rumour, dropouts from society are drinking to excess and running through the hills in a state of naked ecstasy. Among the runaways are Pentheus’ mother Agave (Carly Street) and his Uncle Cadmus (Allan Louis).
The performances of the uniformly strong cast are simply fantastic. When combined with Keira Sangster’s choreography, the chorus’ vocal performance approaches the anthemic. Street is heartbreaking as Pentheus’ mother Agave, and Louis delivers his customary commanding presence as Cadmus. And the perfectly cast MacDonald and MacInnis tackle their opposite roles with shared vigour. MacDonald brings to Pentheus a coiled fury, fuelled by a deeper insecurity and longing, that is almost palpable. And MacInnis literally and figuratively sparkles as Dion. Their culminating solo “Moment by Moment” is an impeccably sung showstopper that delivers the rock opera’s exquisite final word on the human condition in a world of impossible dualities.
Penner’s costume design makes the most of the production’s black and white palette, which conjures the opposition of paired forces and ideologies. Graffiti-style writing on the costumes connects the action unfolding in this timeless, mythic Thebes to our present. And the few colours used are visually arresting – especially the fuschia stripes on Pentheus’ military-style suit and the gold lamé Grecian-style gown that the flamboyant and hedonistic Dion reveals.
I cannot say enough about Bonnie Beecher’s lighting design. Circles of light conjure cages . . . while bright spotlights connote loneliness, isolation and disconnection. When lights bounce off the set’s dual facing mirrors, they create flashes that blind . . . even as they illuminate. And the extensive and varied use of handheld tube lights is both novel and inspired. In the hands of the chorus, they by turns become weapons, thunderbolts, hypnotic distractions, and even futuristic lightsabers.
And finally the music . . . ah, the music! Performed by Bob Foster, Kat McLevey and Haneul Yi, it’s reminiscent – without being at all derivative — of the larger-than-life sonic adventures of Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell, The Who’s Quadrophenia or The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Since the theatre is so cozy, it’s easy to see the effects of this dynamic music. On the night I attended, the elderly gentleman to my right was moving his body to the rhythm, even as his eyes darted quickly, taking in the action running from end to end of the elongated stage. Meanwhile, the man to my left was so engrossed that his hand moved as if he were conducting the music from his chair. As for me, days later, the catchy opening (and recurring refrain) “Evoe, Evoe, Evoe” reverberates in my ears.
The intimate space makes the experience of Dion undeniably intense. This is perfectly appropriate in a story about the Greek god of wine, pleasure and frenzy. But there’s a lot of story – frenzied story – packed into the show’s economical 70-minute run time. In fact, Dion sweeps us up in its onrushing flood and carries us bodily down its course, relenting only when the lights come up at the end. Anticipating as I do that this work has a healthy life ahead of it, I wonder how future development (read: expansion) might balance out the pacing – particularly if the work plays in a larger venue. Some slower moments might allow the audience to exhale just a little . . . making them able to savour the show’s beauty and ponder its thematic depth along the way, not just in retrospect. This might make the battle scene and those amazing final “Moments” even more potent.
Dion: A Rock Opera represents a significant addition to the Canadian theatrical canon. It was well worth the wait, and – given how quickly the audience leapt to its feet during the curtain call (not to mention the tenor of audience conversation as I exited the theatre), I wonder if the run may perhaps be extended.
But don’t wait for that. Get a ticket now. The impressive, seductive and heady Dion deserves a look, a listen, and maybe a shake . . . or more!
Dion: A Rock Opera is on stage until March 3, 2024. Reserve tickets on coalminetheatre.com.
© Arpita Ghosal, SesayArts Magazine, 2024
