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I should have known better. I should have realized when I saw the blurb in The Times, and someone said, “Whatever you were expecting from Dionysus, Cumming’s androgyne rock-god will blow you mind.” This is suspicious: I don’t think it’s possible to read The Bacchae and NOT expect an androgyne rock god. Dionysus is a role tailor-made for Jim Morrison (so much so that Morrison apparently was convinced that he was Dionysus). Androgyne Rock God is EXACTLY what you expect when you read that play, which shows that the guy who wrote the blurb had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

This production, directed by John Tiffany (presumably of some amount of fame in Scotland) was a great big screaming pile of shit. I mean, it’s not just that it sat there and stank, passively—the play breaks into your house while you’re sleeping, yanks you out of bed, marches you into the street, and just starts screaming “SHIIIIIIIIIIT!” so that everyone in town can hear it. I’ve been in the shower since I got home, I still don’t feel clean.

Firstly: someone needs to tell the Scots that the only exposure we really have to their accents is through Groundskeeper Willie. If you’re going to do a play full of Scots in America, you need to be mindful of that: it is very hard to take Dionysus seriously when he says things like, “ZOOS was may fatherrrr. LEETning was may MEDwayf!”

But worse than that, Alan Cumming (who did a very respectable job as Nightcrawler in X-Men 2) didn’t even show up for this play, preferring instead to deliver his performance from Edinburgh via a very long-distance telephone call. The only time he does anything whole-assed is the very first scene, where he’s lowered in upside-down with his little gold a-line skirt hanging over his head, so all we can see is his naked butt. Nudity! It’s edgy! AREN’T YOU FUCKING THRILLED!?!?!?!?

Oh, wait, sorry: “AYRN’T YOO FOKKING THRELLLED?”

That seems to be the motto of the whole production. John Tiffany (remember that name, and shun it if you can) just keeps haphazardly tossing design elements and direction together in a way that is inconsiderate of each other, and shows that he clearly misunderstands every aspect of this play from top to bottom.

HOMO-EROTIC SOOBTEXT! FOKKING RAYT, AY? Yeah, really, they were Greeks, get over it. I know it’s a golden calf to people that work in the theatre, nowadays, but the “I’m afraid I might be GAY!” boundary is actually the LEAST relevant line that The Bacchae is supposed to cross. For fuck’s sake, guys, not every play is about latent homosexuality. Some plays actually deal with themes that are MORE IMPORTANT.

LOOOK, THERES BLAHK WEHMEN! FOKKING RAYT, AY? Yes, John Tiffany, you made all of the Bacchantes black, and had them sing gospel music. Because it’s religious! Also, because black people are all primitive and tribal and shit, and their aboriginal African roots mean they like to do voodoo dances for Dionysus in the moonlight! I should probably let this go, maybe they don’t have a whole lot of black people in Scotland, so Tiffany didn’t realize how stupid and kind of offensive this was. But I can’t! Why?

THE BACCHANTES AYR OHL WEERING RED! FOKKING RAYT, AY? The Bacchantes are all in red, Oscar de la Renta-looking evening gowns with feathers and sequins and shit. Tiresias (John Bett) and Cadmus (Ewan Hooper) come out to do their dance for Dionysus dressed in tuxedoes; they do a little soft-shoe under a spot-light (in a number that begs for Puttin’ on the Ritz, but is instead performed to the entirely forgettable crap faux-rock-gospel-jazz that underscores the whole play). The problem with this, of course, is that formalwear is the OPPOSITE of Dionysus.

I’m not one of those guys that says everything has to be on stage like it says in the script. If you’ve got a good idea and you want to say something interesting, fuck that script in the ass, man, I don’t care. But Tiresias and Cadmus say that they want to wear flowers and faun-skins for a reason—the Bacchantes are described as being naked, or wearing just snakes and flowers, for a reason. It is because Dionysus represents the opposite of civilization; he is anti-civilized, and so his presence directly opposes all of those mores and forms that define the civilized world (i.e., clothes). What was your reason for putting them in red evening dresses, John Tiffany? WAS IT THAT YOU’RE RETARDED?

STOP PAYIN ATTENTION TO THEMES, YOU FOOKER! The play continues to fall apart:

As the Bacchantes put on coats and double as messengers and soldiers in the play!—a technique that can be used to great effect in almost any play EXCEPT The Bacchae, as part of the point is that the Bacchantes and the Thebans are directly at odds with each other.

As Pentheus (Cal MacAninch) embraces his inner-diva! It’s CAMP, girlfriend! Don’t you just LOVE it? Haha, camp makes me want to fucking kill myself. We’ve been over this, basically, but let me add: Pentheus is the tragic victim of the play. You’re supposed to feel sorry for him. You’re supposed to empathize with him. But Dionysus gets all the jokes, and Pentheus is a clown in drag. Stony, crook-bodied performance aside, the catharsis of Pentheus’ death is borne out by neither script nor direction.

As Agave (Paola Dionisitti) enters, mercifully not sporting a hilarious Scottish accent! But spoiling the effect by channeling Faye Dunaway in Mommy, Dearest (OHHHHHHHHHHH PENTHEUUUUUUUUS! IIIIIIIII AM IN A TRAAAAAAAAAAGEDY!).

As a giant lighting grid is lowered down to shine at the audience and blind us! This could have been a neat effect, except for the fact that it looks like the last scene of Chicago. The one serious moment of the play is ruined by the expectation that Cumming is going to hop back out onstage with a tepid version of “Hot Honey Rag.”

Everything is terrible. The actors aren’t very good, except maybe for Alan Cumming, who might have been all right if he’d bothered to show up. The costumes, the themes, the direction—John Tiffany has no idea what the hell he’s doing. The National Theatre of Scotland’s production of The Bacchae has all the intellect and artistry of the version by the theater department of the West Skokie Regional Community College.

What’s more amazing is that the play appears to be getting universally good reviews; from The New York Times, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Variety. The Inquirer piece (written by Toby Zinman, of all people) goes so far as to say “Euripides, the great subversive dramatist, would be pleased.” Euripides would choke on his fucking bile if he saw this play. Euripides was subversive, yes, but he still fucking thought he was writing a tragedy.

John Tiffany: you are fucking banned. David Greig, for writing your shitastic and grievously ignorant script: you are banned. Toby Zinman: I’ve had enough of your shit; you’re fucking banned, too. YOU’RE ALL GOD-DAMN BANNED!

Alan Cumming: you’re getting a reprieve—just this ONCE—because I really like Nightcrawler, and it was awesome when you teleported around and kicked that guy.

–braak