Aeschylus’ Agamemnon begins with the announcement of Greek victory. Consequently, the whole action takes place after the Trojan War and the conflict itself is already a memory. As expected, there are epic narratives about the war that has just ended by those who have come back from the battlefield: the messenger (v. 551-593) and then, Agamemnon (v. 810-854) both evoke the war in poetic and non-personal ways. However, before that, there are narratives by Clytemnestra (v. 320-350) and the chorus (first stasimon), which are prophetic narratives since they occur before anyone has come back from Troy. These two kinds of epic narratives underline the specificity of the ancient concept of memory: in Ancient Greece, memories belonged to poets and oracles1. It is interesting to note that ancient poets – tragic and epic – who used to tell the myths, were also considered as some kind of diviner. No one could deny that, in the text of Agamemnon by Aeschylus and particularly in the epic narratives, the Trojan War is told as a myth in poetic and prophetic ways. We are very far from the contemporary concept of memory: today, memory and particularly the memory of war is about history. So, the reception of the Trojan War in modern-day performances of The Oresteia necessarily deals with the traditional opposition between myth and history.
This opposition becomes very obvious on stage because it is not only a matter of telling the Trojan War, but of showing it as well. As a matter of fact, theatre cannot avoid concrete and visual elements evoking the war: the directors have to think about the costumes of the messenger and Agamemnon arriving from the battlefield, the chariot of the Greek chief along with other elements such as weapons and soldiers. These elements appear generally on stage in a system of references that creates an analogy between the Trojan War and another war – be that war real or fictive. Nowadays, could we avoid historical references when we are staging war memories? What becomes myth for a contemporary audience when there are props and costumes evoking certain historical events? What kind of analogy is able to give the idea of a mythical war to a contemporary audience?
Here I propose a comparison of several famous contemporary performances of Agamemnon in Western Europe from the 1980s until the end of the first decade of the 21st century. I focus on the narratives about the Trojan War and also on the concrete and visual elements evoking the war in the whole performance. How do the different processes of analogy used on stage work? What idea of the war are directors able to give to the audience? How do they concretely create an idea of war? Firstly, we will focus on the performances in which the Trojan War is shown as a specific historical event. Then we will study the productions that create an ahistorical context conducive to telling a myth. Finally, we will try to develop a third way, where the process of analogy escapes the traditional opposition between myth and history to describe the war as a present possibility.
1. Historical analogy – to tell the trojan war as a historical event
This first section deals with a performance in which the visual elements create a historical analogy. The Trojan War is shown as a specific historical event: the Yugoslav Wars (1991-2001). How does this kind of analogy work? What do the narratives telling the myth become?
1.1. Katie Mitchell, The Oresteia, Royal National Theatre, London, First part: 24/09/1999; Second part: 18/11/1999
Staged by Katie Mitchell, the Oresteia is nor ritualistic nor grandiose. The use of digital technologies (live video and projections of archival images) creates a link with modern history and present times. In this sober bi-frontal performance, the spectators are strongly intellectually involved: the characters, starring at the public at the beginning and at the end of the performance, seem to ask them answers about the contemporary world.
Here, the chorus of Agamemnon consists of old men in wheelchairs. They are often described, because of their costumes, as veterans of the Second World War2. As a consequence, Agamemnon (Michael Gould), who belongs to the next generation, looks like a European general from the end of the 20th century3. Moreover, his return is celebrated with Balkan songs setting the action in the context of the Yugoslav Wars. Of course, there is no historical authenticity and the visual elements – the costumes and props4 – are just reminding the audience of those wars. The system of references plays with the audience’s idea of these wars and creates a clear analogy between the Trojan War and the Yugoslav Wars. As a matter of fact, the Kosovo War had just ended in 1999 when Katie Mitchell staged the Oresteia, and as such the audience had many historical facts and images in their mind.
The process of analogy relies here on a logical and chronological conception of history: history seems to be a series of causes and consequences, hence why the Yugoslav Wars appear in this play as an indirect and delayed consequence of the Second World War. Even if the Trojan War is staged in analogy with a contemporary war, we can still name it a historical analogy because it treats immediate history5. The analogy leads us to consider history as an active process in the present time and presupposes the timelessness of Greek tragedy. The myth becomes a pretext or even rather a preferred way to speak about immediate history on stage.
The contemporary war is evoked through historical visual elements and we could ask how this would fit with the narratives of the Aeschylean text that describe the war as a myth in a very poetic way. In other words, is the myth transformed by the historical analogy? Could the historical elements be seen as mythical? In Katie Mitchell’s Oresteia, there are video projections during the four narratives6. The images are mainly archival, showing the wars of the 20th century, but sometimes they are live close-ups of the speaker shot by another actor. The effect of alienation is at work here: myth and history are put side by side in order to relativize each other. On the one hand, the projected images of historical wars (that is to say the images of reality) remind the audience that the myth told on stage is only a fiction. On the other hand, paradoxically, the performance offers a new view on historical events: the montage of images and the epic narratives seem to transform the historical events into a mythical fiction. Consequently, the myth becomes a way not only to perform but also to question history and contemporary wars.
Finally, it is interesting to note that Katie Mitchell uses live video because this fits very well with the process of analogy at work in her production. Indeed, using live video in theatre transforms the relationship of the audience with time. The digital turns the medium of video into something immediate. Whereas in the case of a film we can oppose the moment when it was filmed in the past and the present moment when the audience sees the images, when a live video is filmed on stage the audience simultaneously sees the filmed images projected onto the set as they are filmed. The past is included in the present time of the performance. This immediate medium is the metaphor of the use of Greek tragedy in the performance: the ancient myth is shown as a contemporary event. The historical analogy, because it refers to contemporary wars, as we have already said, suggests paradoxically the timelessness of ancient theatre and myth.
2. Ahistorical analogy – to tell the trojan war as a myth
Our example of historical analogy makes reference to a contemporary war. There are of course other performances where the visual elements showing the Trojan War are inspired from older wars that the audience has not directly experienced even through media coverage. However, in those cases, the analogy does not set the action in a specific historical context: the historical references are not precise enough to create an analogy between the Trojan War and the precise historical event. The analogy becomes ahistorical. Is it enough to show and to tell the Trojan War as a myth? Is an ahistorical context a mythical one?
2.1. Peter Hall, The Oresteia, Royal National Theatre, London, 20/11/1981
Many analyses have been written about this ritualistic and masked performance with an all-male cast7. We will focus here on the visual elements used to give the audience an idea of the Trojan War. The messenger, topped with a laurel wreath, wears a brown and humble tunic dress. Agamemnon comes back from Troy sporting a big bronze helmet, armour with geometric patterns over black clothes and a long red stole. Moreover, a shining sword is attached to his waist. A few soldiers with helmets, bronze shields and spears are dragging his chariot and Cassandra’s cage on stage. Everything tells us that we are in Ancient Greece. The Trojan War is shown as an ancient Greek war. However, even if Peter Hall creates an aesthetic inspired from archaeological elements, there is no precise analogy with any ancient historical war and no desire to speak about Ancient Greece’s history. However, we could say that these elements evoke the idea that the audience already has of war in Ancient Greece. Indeed, this idea comes from history books but also from some knowledge of ancient myths and from peplums, novels, or paintings, amongst other sources. This idea is ahistorical and manages to fuse myth and history. For the general audience, there is no difference between Agamemnon and an Athenian warrior of the Peloponnesian war8. In other words, the analogy relies on an ahistorical inter-subjective idea of war in Ancient Greece. According to ethno-sociological approaches, this idea has all the qualities required to turn itself into a myth9 and theatre seems to manage this transformation. Therefore, there is an analogy between the myth of the Trojan War and another myth made of distorted elements taken from ancient history and myths, that is to say the modern myth of war in Ancient Greece.
This fusion of myth and history is part of a larger process here: the (re)construction of ancient Greek tragedy that is not exactly a historical and archaeological reconstruction. I borrow the term of construction from psychoanalytic vocabulary. Sigmund Freud described an inter-subjective process implying that all memories are incomplete10. The constructions are created by the analyst and validated – or not – by the patient in order to fill the blanks. However the constructions do not have to be true to the past reality but to the idea the patient has of this past reality. This is exactly what Peter Hall was doing: he wanted to reconstruct the experience of Ancient Athenian theatre. He had looked at the remains of Greek tragedy and created what is missing. That is what he did for example with the chorus: he found a way to stage a group moving in a harmonious manner and speaking collectively to a musical rhythm. In doing this, he abides by the general idea of an ancient chorus that of ritualistic masked actors in long dresses. The same process was at work with the visual elements evoking the Trojan War. Finally, the production proposes a construction of the war in Ancient Greece and to be true to the idea that its audience has already about it: as explained above, the construction needs to be part mythical and part historical. It is interesting to note that this fusion of myth and history that theatre manages to achieve is needed for this process of (re)construction.
2.2. Olivier Py, L’Orestie, Odéon – Théâtre de l’Europe, Paris, 15/05/2008
Olivier Py deals with the Oresteia as a great and spectacular opera: the acting is lyrical and the chorus sings in an operatic way with a string quartet11. As Peter Hall, he creates an ahistorical setting. But the analogy is larger here: we are not in Ancient Greece anymore but in Western Europe. If there is a (re)construction at work here, it is not about the historical form of Greek tragedy but rather about its supposed ritualistic and transcendental strength12. The performance does not particularly focus on the war but evokes it inevitably throughout visual elements13 that all remind us of a historical war in Western Europe. The costume of the messenger could be the uniform of a soldier during the First World War and Agamemnon (Philippe Girard) looks like a Nazi general from the Second World War. However, in both cases the costume does not fit exactly with any historical uniform. Moreover, a DS-Citroën car, which was the official car of the General de Gaulle when he was the President of the French Republic, replaces the chariot of Agamemnon. There is of course a play on the word “DS” (déesse meaning goddess in French) and also a reference to Roland Barthes14, but the interesting point here is that this car contributes to make the analogy ahistorical. The anachronistic and imprecise system of references suggests the idea of war in Western Europe to the modern audience. As in Peter Hall’s production, theatre creates a myth from an ahistorical and inter-subjective idea of war composed of historical elements. However, here the analogy does not need a fusion of myth and history, rather it results in a sublimation of history into myth. Indeed, Olivier Py also integrates ancient elements: for example, Agamemnon wears a laurel wreath instead of war medals. In other words, the idea of war in Western Europe staged by Olivier Py as a myth includes war in Ancient Greece. The process of analogy underlines that The Oresteia is staged in a humanistic perspective: the Trojan War is a pretext to sublimate European history into a mythical (and maybe artificial) cultural unity. Greek tragedy is idealised here, taken as the best support to celebrate a common humanistic culture – paradoxically specifically linked to Western European history.
2.3. Ariane Mnouchkine, Les Atrides, La Cartoucherie, Paris, 1990-1992 (Agamemnon’s opening venue: 24/11/1990)15
Ariane Mnouchkine additionally generated an ahistorical context for the war when she staged Les Atrides (Iphigenia at Aulis followed by The Oresteia) but the action is no longer set in Europe and the analogy is even larger and less precise. In this production, Ariane Mnouchkine develops her interest for Asiatic theatrical forms without setting the action in Asia. Indeed, we are in an undefined world since the aesthetic mixes many exotic references. Whereas the dance is inspired from Indian Kathakali, the colours of the props and costumes16 are partly taken from Minoan paintings and the make-up17 and dresses remind those of Noh and Kathakali actors. The historical references are so distorted and disparate that they are not easily recognisable. However several elements of the performance remind Asiatic wars with no time or space unity.
Firstly, the costumes of the messenger and Agamemnon recall Japanese Samurais. Furthermore, we can analyse the chorus of Agamemnon as a group of former warriors. Before entering the space where the performance takes place, the spectator has to go through some excavations where the statues are nor Greek nor Chinese but remind necessarily the terracotta warriors discovered in the tomb of Emperor Qin Shi Huang.18 The sculptures designed by Erhard Stiefel are just like the members of the chorus in Agamemnon. With their big and heavy red skirts, they are not dressed to go to war; yet, we could say that they act as former warriors. Their dance19 looks like a very well organised military parade and they welcome Agamemnon (Simon Abkarian) with a cry that sounds as a war cry. Then, the coryphaeus (Catherine Schaub) guides the dance with very little cries: this technique is taken from Kathakali, an art partly inspired from martial arts. The behaviour of the chorus fits well with the occidental fantasised idea of ancient Asian people seen as a warrior people. The process of analogy seems to play here on our occidental clichés about war in Asia. In this case, the analogy would rely once again on an inter-subjective and ahistorical idea of war that theatre turns into myth.
The process of analogy here underlines that Greek tragedy is shown to the contemporary audience as an exotic and foreign thing. Ariane Mnouchkine wanted the audience to experience the mystery of Greek tragedy and this is probably demonstrated by the use of Asiatic theatre’s codes. As a result, even if the performance cannot avoid making any references, it gets rid of history20. The general Western audience does not know much about the history of Asia; that is why the performance could play on the idea of war in a fantasised Ancient Asia. Moreover all the direct references to Ancient Greek history are thus avoided. There is finally an assimilation of history by the myth created in the theatre.
In these three examples, the process of analogy permits the telling and the portrayal of the Trojan War as a myth on stage. The analogy is ahistorical because it never refers to a specific historical event. However, it is strongly cultural since it relies on the idea that the audience has of the war in a specific cultural area (Ancient Greece, Western Europe, Asia). It is interesting to note that these three performances all use a very stylised aesthetic with a strong codification of acting: Peter Hall chose the masks, Olivier Py opted for the declamation and Ariane Mnouchkine picked the dance. These aesthetic choices fit very well with the epic narratives of the play that describe the Trojan War in a poetic way. In other words, the aesthetic choices are strongly linked with the processes of analogy and the relationships between myth and history chosen by each stage director.
3. No analogy – to tell the trojan war as a present possibility
The ahistorical analogy can be even larger if the director tries to suggest the idea of war in general. In this case, we could say that there is no analogy anymore and the relationship of myth and history is totally shaken. What do the epic narratives telling the Trojan War as a myth become? Are the visual elements showing the war on stage avoiding historical references?
3.1. Peter Stein, Antikenprojekt II: Die Orestie des Aischylos, Schaubühne, Berlin, 18/10/198021
In this performance the set22 (a long and narrow stage surmounted by a big dark wall) evokes the space of Greek theatre. The chorus stays at the same level as the spectators, sometimes in the middle of them, sometimes around a big wooden table. As in Ancient Greece, the chorus establishes a link with the public and remains all the time at the centre of the performance. Despite these choices, the costumes23 are mainly contemporary: the member of the chorus, for example, wear black suits, black hats and carry a stick. However, the Trojan War is evoked nor as an ancient war nor as a specific war of the twentieth century.
Indeed, the chariot and the costume of Agamemnon are clearly not those of contemporary soldiers. Agamemnon wears a white shirt and black trousers but carries a big sword in his back. Peter Stein's production portrays a general idea of war: it is not set to any specific context. Yet, the general idea of war shown on stage cannot be totally out of touch with the context of reception and that is why we can spot references to ancient and modern worlds24. However we could say that this performance does not rely on any preconceived idea of war: owing to the common experience of the performance, the audience progressively and simultaneously constructs an inter-subjective ahistorical idea of the war and its corresponding myth in its ethno-sociological sense.
On the other hand, Peter Stein has found a way to transform the epic narratives. The repartition of the lines between the members of the chorus, the translation and the acting create an aesthetic that gives the impression of a quotidian dialogue. This performance tells the myth as a theatrical reality as if the audience should consider all the issues of the myth as present possibilities. Consequently, Peter Stein reveals the spectator anguish of a war in the “here and now”. It is well known that the German director knew Jean-Pierre Vernant’s work25 and it is not surprising that he proposes a structuralist reception of the Greek tragedy at the crossroads of myth and history. In this production, the approach of the Trojan War is both anthropological and psychoanalytical.
3.2. Katie Mitchell, Women of Troy, Royal National Theatre, London, 21/11/2007
The last example is not a performance of Agamemnon but of Women of Troy by Euripides. It is significant because it proposes another way to show war as a present possibility.
Women of Troy is the third Greek tragedy staged by Katie Michell at the Royal National Theatre dealing with the Trojan War (after The Oresteia in 1999 and Iphigenia at Aulis in 2004). In this play, the war is not a memory as it is in The Oresteia: Troy has only just fallen. We are on the threshold of the conflict allowing for a greater opportunity to present war as a psychological crisis. However this example is interesting in comparison because Katie Mitchell has also found a way to avoid any analogy. She no longer needs historical references since the scene is set in 2050 in an empty warehouse belonging to the dock of a ruined city26. We could potentially speak of a futuristic analogy. However, this future is too close to play with a fantasised idea of war in future and Katie Mitchell is not interested in science fiction27: the electronic gates and the sad concrete walls remind the industrial buildings we can see today; the costumes are banally modern (elegant evening dresses for the chorus and black coats for the Greeks)28; and the dances of the chorus seem to be couple-dances of the 1940’s in slow motion29. It is impossible to date those elements30. There is no analogy here: this is possibly our world in a few years’ time. Moreover, there is no alienation effect as in The Oresteia and the acting is more psychological. Even the aesthetic dances of the chorus in slow motion during the stasima could be interpreted as a metaphor of the internal state of the characters31. It is possible to argue that this performance shows a psychoanalytical idea of war. So, as in Peter Stein’s production, the war is told as an immediate possibility and reveals the spectator’s fear of it.
When Menelas comes in to speak to the Trojan women, before anything else, he takes his phone and only says “here, now”. This moment, which is of course not in Euripides’ text, seems to seal the fate of the women and encapsulates the threatening “here and now” of the war performed in this production. Greek tragedy is neither historical, nor timeless: its issues become immediate, “here and now”.
In Peter Stein’s Oresteia as in Katie Mitchell’s Women of Troy, the performance tells and shows the threat of war in general. It is possible to say that because Katie Mitchell sets the action in the close future, she manages to renew the performance of the anthropological and psychoanalytical fear of the war. Yet she has also renewed the performance of ancient myth: the myth is not a pretext anymore to speak by analogy about history or about a contemporary idea of something. The myth is immediate, included in the present time of the performance because, paradoxically, the action is set in the close future.
4. Conclusion
In conclusion, I would like to contrast once again and more conceptually the analogical approaches and the non-analogical approaches I have described32 trying to widen our analysis to famous scientific approaches of Ancient Greece. The different processes of analogy reveal a desire to interpret and understand not only the Trojan War but also Greek tragedy. This could be named a hermeneutical approach. This calls Jean Bollack’s conception of philology as a critical hermeneutic. In contrast to this, the non-analogical approach could be named a heuristic approach since it relies on the progressive invention of an idea of war. This is more fitting to Jean-Pierre Vernant anthropological approach of Greek tragedy in particular, and of history in general.
The opposition between myth and history is valuable to understand the reception of the Trojan War in contemporary performances. As we can see, it is very difficult to avoid any historical references when theatre speaks about war. Indeed, even Les Atrides by Ariane Mnouchkine, Die Orestie by Peter Stein and Katie Mitchell’s Women of Troy cannot totally avoid them. Conversely, and despite the historical references, the myth of Trojan War is an excellent way to tell or create a contemporary myth. In all the processes of analogy that have been described the historical elements seem to inspire and call for a contemporary myth. With the historical analogy, theatre turns an event of contemporary history into a myth giving the audience a critical perspective on it. With the ahistorical analogy, a general idea or a cliché is transformed into myth by the performance in the hope of finding the right way to stage Greek tragedy today. When there is no analogy at all, the performance does not create another myth but performing the ancient one renews it and makes it exist in the actuality of the performance.