Review: re:Psyche by Secondhand Theatre
by Michael Meigs
Secondhand Theatre's re:Psyche, playing at the Blue Theatre until July 18, reminds me of a Swiss circus.
In late spring and summer, medium-sized towns and villages in the Swiss mountains awaken to find a weathered Little Top has appeared on a vacant municipal lot, surrounded by a miscellany of campers and caravans. The troupe rarely numbers more than ten performers, perhaps with three or four musicians. Practised professionals, they are initiates in make-believe, gymnastics and glitter. They stay for a week or ten days, then fold their tent and disappear.
Now, with further reworking, cast changes and the addition of eerie, effective music by Austin string minimalists Mother Falcon, the troupe has set up its metaphorical tent as Secondhand Theatre, at the Blue Theatre building, that odd patch behind the Goodwill warehouse at 916 Springdale Road.
I suggest that you get over there and take it in before the group disperses. These folks are serious, comic, and seriously entertaining.
This is no flimsy costumed re-telling of the familiar. Re:Psyche is a muscular, intelligent exploration of a myth about beauty, power, attraction, transformation and death.
Tall, curly-haired Eros is sure of his attractiveness and considers himself the god of love. His mother Aphrodite, glamorous but cynical and maybe a bit haggard, infuriates him by addressing him as "Cupid" and correcting him repeatedly: "You're the god of desire."
The program foreword asks, ". . . in a world bereft of the essence of mythology, how do we know love?"
The program contains no list of scenes. That appears, instead, on the back wall of the set, with each cheeky or quirky title additionally announced by a player. The story follows the general outline of the legend as recounted by Apuleius: the goddess Aphrodite (Venus) is offended that the beauty of mortal woman Psyche enchants people so much that they neglect Aphrodite's temple. Working through an oracle, she obliges Psyche's father the king to abandon her on a mountain top, from whence she's spirited away by Zephyr, minor god of the winds. Aphrodite dispatches Eros (Cupid) to make Psyche fall in love with the most hideous monster imaginable; he wounds himself with the magic arrow and is lovestruck for Psyche. Perhaps, just perhaps, he has fulfilled his commission without knowing it. They live for months in their secluded aerie making love, but Eros refuses to give his name and obliges Psyche to remain blindfolded. Envy and fear lead to unmasking and catastrophe.
Throughout this exploration the cast moves with the assurance of theatrical athletes of mind and body. Each is memorable -- several of them not only for this piece, but also for the taut play against other sharply realized roles they've performed over the past two years. For example, Tom Truss played Oberon in Midsummer Night's Dream, Dostoyevski's pure soul Prince Myshkin in The Idiot, long-suffering father Mr. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, the stage manager in Our Town, a raucous carney girl in a FronteraFest solo, and the unreflective suitor and husband in Machinal. . . will our last view of him in Austin be this turn as the vindictive, bejeweled goddess-mom in a brilliant, low-cut gown? This is the equivalent of a high-wire act, a character of contemptuous virtuosity, a lush beauty thousands of years old forever jealous and determined to destroy her rivals.
Harrison Butler was foolish rich boy Charles Bingley in Pride and Prejudice. Here he trades on his height and good looks in quite a different way -- schmoozing the audience ahead of time ("Hello, could you hold this shirt for me? Don't wrinkle it!") and portraying for us the Golden Boy the rest of us love to hate: smooth, well-spoken, duplicitous and (dare we add?) narcississtic. He suggests the uncomprehending male force, entangled and yet uncommitted. Eros (Cupid) has the last word in this retelling of the myth for the Google age, and it's not a pretty pronouncement.
And, of course, Verity Branco. She is, once again, the Beautiful One -- just as in Austin Shakespeare's An Ideal Husband where she was the spider woman Mrs. Cheverley and as in The Trojan Women where she was a Jessica Rabbit version of Helen of Troy. But here, with a difference, for she is condemned by beauty. Those piercing eyes and high cheekbones are worth damned little when you're a toy of fate and a toy of the gods. Branco's concentration and acting ability overcome her striking looks, gradually battered down by trials and betrayals. In the closing scene, suspended and annihilated by the force of pure beauty, she is the figure in a danse macabre, with the lovely shape of her bones absorbing her flesh. It's creepy. It's beautiful. But it's creepy, and it underscores the devastating remark in that scene, "Love is what's left when beauty burns away."
LaTasha Stephens is a Wii-playing airheaded Zephyr, a fine comic turn, as well as an oracle to be feared. Jon Cook plays lightweight, including his role as a silly announcer of scenes, and then surprises us at the finale in a role turn directly connected to the dilemma of the dénouement.
When will these seven meet again? Probably not at all. That great big theatre machine at UT will be churning out some replacements. But go. See them. Celebrate their versatility and their talent. You won't regret it.
Review by Avimaan Syam for the Austin Chronicle, July 1
Review by Ryan E. Johnson at austinist.com, July 2
Strongly positive review by Bastion Carboni, July 8
Review by webmaster, TheatreAustin, Yahoo groups, July 22
Secondhand Theatre promo, including a visit to KOOP-FM
Click to view program for re:Psyche by Secondhand Theatre at the Blue Theatre
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re:Psyche
by Secondhand Theatre ensemble
Secondhand Theatre
Springdale Rd and Lyons
behind Goodwill warehouse
Austin, TX, 78702