‘Balkan Bordello’ Review: A Tragic Tale Reborn for a Time of War

To Orestes, the discord between his parents is part of “the family dysfunction.” That’s true as far as it goes, but it does gloss over some gruesome details: his military commander father, Agamemnon, sacrificing Orestes’s sister, Iphigenia; and his mother, Clytemnestra, avenging her favorite child’s death by killing Agamemnon when he returns home from war.

It’s the sort of history that might leave a person haunted, and so it does in the angry and eloquent “Balkan Bordello,” a contemporary retelling of Aeschylus’ “The Oresteia” by the Kosovan playwright Jeton Neziraj. When Agamemnon’s ghost steps out of the fog one night, like Hamlet’s restless father come to sic his son on the one who wronged him, more bloodshed quickly follows.

Harm begets harm in this cursed cycle of violence and retribution, with one generation’s grievances handed down to the next in a society devastated by war and living in its long, ugly aftermath. In theory, then, “Balkan Bordello” is unusually well suited to this moment, when so many anxious eyes are on the myriad blossoming horrors of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

Directed by Blerta Neziraj, the playwright’s wife, at La MaMa’s Ellen Stewart Theater, this show does look splendid, on a set the color of blood and rage, lust and heat. The production’s very provenance — as a collaboration involving La MaMa; Qendra Multimedia in Pristina, Kosovo; Theater Atelje 212 in Belgrade, Serbia; and the international group My Balkans — is emblematic of hope.

And its cast of 10 includes two Serbian actors who deliver performances of thrilling magnetism — Svetozar Cvetkovic as Aegisthus, Clytemnestra’s pompous, prolific poet lover, and Ivan Mihailovic as a war veteran who returns alongside Agamemnon, with the captured Cassandra (Verona Koxha, a Kosovan actor) slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

But there is a chaos to the production that has nothing to do with the disorder of the little world it depicts, inside Clytemnestra’s Balkan Express Motel, where she and Agamemnon raised their children. On Thursday night, the show felt under-rehearsed and underconfident, with spotty sound and some American actors seemingly uncertain of their lines.

The greater frustration, less likely to resolve itself, is that the set (by Marija Kalabic and Nico de Rooij), so flatteringly lit (by Yann Perregaux and de Rooij), is too far-flung for the play’s intimate, intricate machinations. In its vast space, the staging muddies the storytelling.

Audience members sit at either end, a few at cafe tables — an unwise choice for people who don’t want to become part of the show, particularly those who would cringe at being urged to get up and dance. Wherever you sit, some of the action is likely to be lost on you because of sightlines and distance and occasional onstage tumult.

Smoothly translated by Alexandra Channer and performed in English, with much of the dialogue projected (also in English) on an upstage backdrop, the play is nonetheless a smart and striking take on “The Oresteia.” Its surreal qualities are amped up by Gabriel Berry‘s madcap costumes — Aegisthus, in jacquard jacket and velvet pants, is an absolute dandy; Clytemnestra wears golden shoes — and Gjergj Prevazi’s choreography, into which characters erupt, sometimes while still seated at cafe tables.

But there is a kind of abstraction to the performances by the members of La MaMa’s Great Jones Repertory Company, in contrast to the immediacy of the Balkan actors’ work. George Drance’s Agamemnon exudes a hail-fellow-well-met energy, without any of the smoothed-over barbarity you might expect. Even with Cassandra, his human war prize, he lacks menace.

Admittedly, the charismatic, fully realized performances by Cvetkovic and Mihailovic put the scales of the production out of whack. Kushtrim Hoxha, a Kosovan actor, is also strangely compelling as Pylades, Orestes’s choreographer friend from Berlin — a representative of the non-Balkan Western world and its condescension toward the region.

While Clytemnestra (Onni Johnson) and Orestes (Eugene the Poogene) both end up with blood on their hands here, Mihailovic is the one who brings a sense of simmering violence and physical danger into the room. When he makes a furious, stomping exit up the risers on one end of the stage, the threat of savagery reverberates in his every footfall. When Pylades asks him about his experiences in the war, his answers are unnerving, but the slow smile on his face is even more so.

It is left to Aegisthus, the poet, to rail against the war and what it has wrought. “Oh my people,” he writes. “Beware the warlords, my people.”

Not that he is innocent, of course. Before Clytemnestra does away with Agamemnon, her lover has his own thirst for blood.

“I like to imagine his body cut into pieces, his eyes staring out like a dead fish,” Aegisthus says, with an even-tempered hatred that makes him entirely terrifying. “But all that matters is that he’ll be over with. He’ll be done, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

That’s the eternal fantasy, isn’t it — that just one more act of violence will even the score, and retribution will cease. Spoiler/not spoiler: Aegisthus ends up murdered, too.

“They’ve sent me to hell by mistake,” his ghost says. “I have filed a complaint.”