Oedipus Wrecks

"Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness."

Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 23, Verse 27.

Brothers and sisters, the Evil One's greatest weapon is hypocrisy. There is the feminist who insists that other women should behave in a specific manner. The preacher taken from his pulpit and placed upon a golden stage, the True Word scattered like pearls before swine. The greatest texts of human history are encased in aspic, become exhibits in a museum, their meaning obscured by a microscopic attention. The flabby mouth that speaks of art's greatness, yet places it beyond accessibility.

If The Gospel at Colonus worked, it would send us all back to the arms of the Lord. To read it as a chance to see some of the world's greatest Gospel singers is to ignore the importance of its message, its traditions. In Sophocles, there is one of the earliest expressions of compassion and forgiveness as human and divine virtues. Gospel singing was born from the union of hardship and hope. Together, they could express truth that goes beyond the proscenium arch and into our hearts.

By the time The Gospel arrives at The Playhouse, the insightful synthesis of two great traditions has been converted into a tasteful and safe spectacle. Those reminders of its origins in the church - such as the extended introductions, the bursts of accompanying organ, the readings from a holy book - feel out of place in what has become a complicated staging of a gospel concert. The audience, struggling to come to terms with their expected role as witnesses, are undermined by poor sound quality and distance from the stage. The first act, which sets up Oedipus' dire situation, drags and stunmbles towards an interval.

The second act, Oedipus' death and annunciation, captures the lively energy of Gospel and the intense pathos of Sophocles' awkward tragedy. The Blind Boys of Alabama are entracing as the hero, while the choir and preacher wind up the ecstasy, striking out towards the end for a celebration of forgiveness and faith.

With a line up that would shame an entire weekend festival, The Gospel of Colonus is a special event, even in a secular world, and once the singing kicks off, it is stunning. Yet it poses difficult questions about the purpose of the show: is it a religious work? If it is to be judged as Gospel, was The Word spoken? If the audience isn't up and dancing by the end - there were the usual number of festival walk-outs - has it failed?