In the steaming water of a translucent bath, two women caress each other. With their graceful movements, they are confronted, their clothing and hair are soaked.

“I love you,” says Persea. “You are in danger,” Phaedra replies.

Theseus, Demophon, Acamas and Panopeus: they rule over Athens and about the women in the empire. In a world ruled by male structures, love between Phaedra and Persea is forbidden.

Queen Phaedra and King Thoseus find a bride for their oldest son and heir to the throne Demophon: the quirky Persea. But Phaedra himself falls for her future daughter -in -law. A hidden love blooms behind closed doors.

The Georgian-German author Nino Haraticwili rewrote the classical myth of Phaedra to a contemporary queer version for the stage. Director Ola Mafaalani brings this retelling to life with Phaedra in flamesa big room production of the National Theater. With that she shows how ancient Greece serves as a mirror for contemporary patriarchal structures.

Orgasm

Phaedra and Persea satisfy each other on the stairs behind the bath. Both women reach an orgasm. The actions are direct and show the intense connectedness between Phaedra and Persea. That love is missing between the king and queen, where marriage is dominated by Thesesus. He literally holds Phaedra in his grip: she is trapped in a huge white tule dress, with a wide hoop that puts Thesesus around her neck, like a symbol of his power.

“Looks like yourself,” says Persea as she cuts a sleeve of Phaedra’s dress. During the show she frees her little by bit from the oppression, by cutting off a new part of her dress.

The costumes breathe symbolism: the tulle is reminiscent of ‘female’ wedding dresses, the men wear dark, intimidating suits. It is clear that Mafaalani has thought about visual language, so that you constantly ask why the players do exactly what they do.

Where a lot of imagery is clear, other actions remain in the air, such as the roles of the king and his sons. Why does Demophon undress his underpants, why does he do push-ups? Why does Acamas, the youngest son of the royal couple, play with paper dogs?

The dynamics between the players depict contemporary relationships. Despite the prominent main roles of Phaedra and Persea, the male dominance is increasingly improving. That happens with high priest Panopeus, played by Rick Paul van Mulligen. From a submissive position he crawls up in power to mediate between ‘gods and the king’.

Scene from ‘Phaedra in flames’ from the National Theater. Photo Bart Grietens

Trophy Wife

The modern language, the airy jokes in between and the direct claim to the public shake you awake. Persea does not want to become a ‘trophy wife’, Acamas wonders if she has ‘big tits’ and Panopeus concludes that the noble queen has turned into a ‘loopy bitch.’ Ancient Greece looks a lot like the present, where conservatism, minorities are still made to scapegoat and equal gender rights are not self -evident.

Malou Gorter shows an enormous force in the lead role of Phaedra. Her monologues are steeped in anger, fear and sorrow, except for a single hitch and discussion. But can you blame her, in a role that keeps her on stage continuously for two hours? Her intimate interplay with Persea, played by Yela de Koning, is intense. They show the power of women, but also the vulnerable position in which women are pushed. This is reinforced by the live music of the New European Ensemble, in which violin, cello and harp sound penetratingly.

After a hair -raising final scene, Phaedra stands up, with the toothbrush in her hand, she looks into the room. “The patriarchy of the ancient Greeks consisted of democracy, oppression of women and making people slaves. And that is still the case 2,500 years later.”

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Ola Mafaalani directed 'Phaedra in flames' for the National Theater. Photo Jagoda Lasota





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