| Ancient Greek Tragedy Could Inspire Ireland
By Peter Berresford Ellis
In February, 1972, Hibernia, which was then the prestigious Irish fortnightly
arts and literary review, carried a full-page interview with a talented
young Greek composer named Christos Pittas. Christos Pittas was talking
about the music of Séan Ó Riada, comparing the importance of the work of
the Cork composer, who inspired the 1960s revival of traditional Irish music,
to Bartok and Debussy.Christos, born in Alexandria in 1946, was himself
something of a prodigy and studied violin under Bedelien. At the astonishing
age of 13, he was playing in the first violins of the premier symphony orchestra
of Cyprus under its famous conductor Yangos Michalides. By 1970, Christos,
aged 24, was invited to conduct the London Symphony Orchestra in concert
at the Albert Hall.
As a composer, Christos has continued his fascination with Irish musical
traditions. He came to work with many Irish famous theatrical personalities,
including the late Siobhan McKenna. She played Jocasta in a BBC production
of Euripides’ The Phoenician Women. Christos wrote a musical setting for
the play and was impressed by the power that Siobhan gave to the performance,
synchronising it against his music.
When Brian Friel’s Dancing at Lughnasa was translated into Greek for
production in that country, Christos was commissioned to write the musical
setting.
In August, I was privileged to attend the opening performance of a new
production of Euripides’ The Phoenician Women, performed at the spectacular
2,400-year-old amphitheatre of Epidavros on the Peloponnisos. The play was
staged by The Cyprus Theatre Organisation as part of the Hellenic Festival.
Nicos Charalambous directed and Christos had composed an entirely new musical
setting.
Christos Pittas is now one of the most sought after composers working
in the sphere of music, dance and drama. Many prominent European directors
have sought to work with him, including Peter Brook.
The Phoenician Women was written between 412 and 408 BC, the play derives
its name from the chorus of the Phoenician maidens who are on their way
to the temple of Apollo at Delphi and witness the events. It is the longest
Greek tragedy to survive and takes up the legend of Oedipus at the start
of the quarrel between his two sons Polynices and Etecoles. The quarrel
ends in a single combat between the brothers who kill each other.
Their mother Jocasta takes her own life with one of their swords. Jocasta’s
brother Creon (who has supported Etecoles) banishes a now blind Oedipus
and proclaims that Polynices’s body must remain unburied. Antigone, Polynices’
sister, swears she will secretly bury her brother and defies Creon by going
into exile with her father. Thus the play is really an introduction to Euripides’
lost play Antigone although a similar play by Sophocles has survived.
Sitting in that ancient amphitheatre, high in the mountains, the performance
started at 9pm, so the background was a truly star-studded one, it was so
easy to be moved. I was moved; but not only by the atmosphere and the thought
of all the people sitting where I sat some 2,400 years ago, perhaps watching
this very play. I was moved by the emotional power of this production, by
the cosmological design but, above all, by the vibrant almost primeval music
of Christos Pittas without which I had a feeling that the production would
have been greatly diminished.
The dialogue was translated into modern Greek by Michalis Pieros who
had the artistic wisdom to leave all the lines of the chorus in the ancient
Greek form, which enhanced the fascinating rhythmic quality of the dialogue.
Words are always inadequate when trying to give an understanding of musical
experience. Yet it was precisely from the relationship between word, sound
and rhythm that Christos Pittas derived his inspiration. Starting with electronic
primeval sounds, the play bursts into life with the sounds of ‘real’ instruments
played by five talented musicians, led by percussionist Nicolas Papageorgiou,
and with the singers forming the chorus.
English language versions of Greek plays tend to use the chorus as an
embarrassing intermission to the actors. Not so this production. The play
could not work without the ‘Phoenician Women’. I think even Peter Hall (who
recently staged Euripides’ The Bacchai at the National Theatre) could learn
something from the way Charalambous and Pittas use the musicology of the
chorus to such a dramatic and emotionally stimulating affect.
Time has not diminished the vibrancy of Christos Pittas’ music and I
was delighted to find that his deep appreciation of Irish music and theatrical
tradition is still an abiding one.
He hopes to soon be involved in a play about Cassandra but would like
the part to go to an Irish actress who could match the talent of the great
Siobhan McKenna. He is also keen to pursue Irish themes for he has long
held that the Greek and Irish traditions share much in common.
The dynamic and vigorous motifs of Irish mythology have continued to
intrigue him and he has often wondered why Irish playwrights have been fairly
reticent about dramatising them in the way Greek playwrights have used their
own myths. He views with excitement the idea of performing dramatised versions
of Irish tragedies such as Oidheadh Chlainne LÌr (Fate of the Children of
Lir) or romances such as TÛraigheacht Diarmada agus Ghrainne (The Pursuit
of Diarmada and Grainne) with appropriate musical settings and staging.
Even Cath Maige Tuired (Battle of Moytura), the confrontation between
the gods of light and darkness, is reminiscent of the Greek traditions of
the defeat inflicted by Zeus and his Olympian gods on Cronus and his Titans.
Greek and Irish myths represent two very powerful traditions emanating
from the Indo-European root, which is the birth of European culture. It
is something to develop and be proud of it. The drama of the Irish myths
should be far better known throughout Europe.
The production of The Phoenician Woman might soon be coming to Ireland
or Britain. If so, I urge you to see it. If you don’t know Greek, forget
the language, watch Isidoros Sideris’ compelling choreography and, above
all, listen to the music which is such an integral part of the rhythm of
the language communicating with emotions just as much as intellect.
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