With a Nod To the Gods, 'Ion' Delivers A Wry Charge

Maybe the gods really are crazy. In Shakespeare Theatre Company's sprightly new staging of Euripides' "Ion," Apollo messes things up but good for a mortal royal family, despoiling the queen, deceiving her husband and keeping an heir in the dark about his lineage.

The irony, of course, is that humankind flocks to his Delphi temple -- here bestowed with the catchy slogan "Earth's epicenter" -- for answers to the mysteries of the universe. It's as if the ancient Greek playwright, channeled by one of his most recent modern adapters, David Lan, wants to let audiences in on a more subversive secret: The gods can't be trusted.

Director Ethan McSweeny, who showed in his arresting 2006 production of Aeschylus's "The Persians" a knack for the visual starkness of Greek tragedy, now takes on a work from antiquity of lighter spirit. And though the style of the 90-minute piece relies a bit too heavily on gimmickry, McSweeny has fashioned a breezy satire that's for the most part both jauntily conceived and easy on the eyes.

Courtesy of canny set designer Rachel Hauck, the stage of Sidney Harman Hall has been evocatively transformed into the craggy cliff top on which Apollo's temple rests. Time seems to stand still at this higher altitude. While we're welcomed outside the giant temple doors by Aubrey Deeker's classically gilded Hermes -- who majestically descends from the ceiling on a train of red fabric -- the site is invaded by five sassy actresses playing the chorus.

They're dressed not in the sort of outfits you find on Greek statues, but rather those you might see in the lobby of the Athens Marriott. The sightseers are attendants to a weepy queen, Creusa (Lisa Harrow), who has come seeking divine comfort for what ails her: the inability to produce a child after abandoning her firstborn, the offspring of Apollo's rape. She's accompanied on the pilgrimage by her husband, Xuthus (Sam Tsoutsouvas), who, ignorant of Creusa's past, wants to know whether he'll ever have a son.

The misleading replies they receive only complicate their predicaments. Euripides' wry notion is to cast doubt on the efficacy of divine intervention: It is the task of the human characters to clean up after the reckless beings they worship. On the most literal level, this is the job of naive Ion (Keith Eric Chappelle), who lives as a toga-clad temple groundskeeper, raking up the flower petals the gods carelessly leave behind. We soon discover, however, that this simple soul's origins -- he doesn't even have a name when we first encounter him -- carry a profound significance for everyone else.

Chappelle makes of Ion a likable naif, and Harrow, playing Creusa in a tragic vein, declaims expertly. The supporting cast is uniformly fine.

Euripides' theme of mixed-up parentage would come to serve as a comedic template. It's said that "Ion" was an influence on Oscar Wilde for "The Importance of Being Earnest." Lan's script and McSweeny's direction do at times try to establish "Ion" as a winsome, time-bending affair: Puppets (by Aaron Cromie) are employed, as are gun-toting security details and photo-snapping ladies-in-waiting. Some of the cultural referencing gets poured on a bit thick. By the time the women of the chorus provide the evening's musical send-off, a mood-enhancing bowl of pop by composer Michael Roth, you're tickled but also a bit perplexed about how well all the conceits really do fit together.

Still, the cheeky sensibility offers an appealing postmodern varnish, typified by the appearance at play's end of winged goddess Athene, who with great panache floats down from the clouds. As embodied by the delightful Colleen Delany, Athene seems intended to elicit giggles rather than shivers. At one point, she gazes out at us and offers a tiny shrug, as if to say: "What the heck do I know? I'm only a deity."

Ion, by Euripides, translated by David Lan. Directed by Ethan McSweeny. Costumes, Rachel Myer; lighting, Tyler Micoleau; music direction and sound score, Michael Roth; choreography, Peter Pucci; voice and text, Ellen O'Brien. With Floyd King, Tana Hicken, Lise Bruneau, Kate Debelack, Laiona Michelle, Patricia Santomasso, Rebecca Baxter, Caleb Jones. About 90 minutes. Through April 12 at Sidney Harman Hall, 610 F St. NW. Visit http://www.shakespearetheatre.org or call 202-547-1122.