Media: KTV
Story Title: Zëra të padëgjuar: “Gratë e Trojës” zërojnë rrëfimin e dhunimeve në luftë
Date: November 10, 2024
Link: https://www.koha.net/shtojca-kulture/zera-te-padegjuar-grate-e-trojes-zerojne-rrefimin-e-dhunimeve-ne-lufte
By: Col Mehmeti
The dead are no longer affected, for fear, agony, and suffering weigh heavily on those who have survived. In a marked departure from Euripides’ original work, where the curtains fall on wail and tragedy, this performance brings hope through the interspersing of moments of humor.
Today, writing anti-war appeals may seem like the easiest thing to do. Unfortunately, there are times when it’s damn hard to draw the line between single-minded anger and bloodshed for moral capital, pretense for moral righteousness, or selfish self-affirmation. However, when calls against war are raised on the foundations of human suffering amidst the wreckage, screams, and sorrowful wails, great art permeates the human conscience deeply. Against the backdrop of relentless wars that plagued 5th-century Greece, Euripides gave voice to the shattered inner worlds of the unfortunate women and the all-encompassing nightmare of war.
Created in the distant year of 415 BCE, the play Trojan Women does not bring forth the heroic battlegrounds of Troy, the bold assaults on its walls and ramparts, the intrigues of the Gods, or the schemes of warring factions. Instead, Hecuba, Cassandra, Andromache, Helen, and the chorus of grief-stricken women emerge as the tragic heroines in the aftermath of a devastating war. Winners and losers alike stand before the heap of the dead, among whom are their dearest ones, and all that extinguished world that seems as though it never existed. Through his drama, Euripides breathed new life into the Homeric past, even its darkest side, to allude to the grim and terrifying present, where the Greek city-states, mired in wars with one another, were carving themselves an epitaph of shame.
Where Euripides only reluctantly showed any resistance to the Gods for their disregard, this performance from Prishtina, full of courage and without a trace of fear, boldly declares that religion itself is a factory of violence. The ruined world of Troy has victims on both sides, but the dead are no longer touched, for fear, agony, and suffering weigh most heavily on those who have survived.
Ancient Troy, Modern Troy
Euripides’ anti-war work carries timeless and universal resonances, but its reinvention with new language, fresh voices, and contemporary touches is a powerful invitation to sit, much like the ancient Athenian theatergoers during the Dionysian festival, and experience Euripides’ latest production. Such sensations are also embodied in the theatrical performance “Women of Troy”, co-directed by Zana Hoxha and Maja Mitić, which for the second consecutive year was presented at the Dodona Theatre in Prishtina. Originating from a collaborative creative process between Prishtina and Belgrade, the two-night performance, held on November 5th and 6th, highlighted an intricate performance by the artists of the Artpolis ensemble and their colleagues from Serbia.
As early as 1965, Sartre made an adaptation of this ever-relevant drama, which served as a powerful protest against the war in Algeria. Recently, writer and actor Shpëtim Selmani took on this challenging endeavor, infusing it with a local flavor while maintaining a universal resonance. His text preserves the original framework with gods and mortals, yet its dramatic update reverberates widely in the realities of our time.
Through the voices of female characters trapped in their own misery – like the sorrowful Hecuba, the unfortunate Andromache, the doomed Cassandra, and the defiant Helen – he unravels the unceasing pain of Kosovo, with the screams, tears, and suffering of the 20,000 women who were victims of sexual violence during the war.
“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” said Tolstoy, with which he opens his novel on the psychological unraveling of his modern heroine, Anna Karenina. These words could somewhat be adapted here to say that every human pain has a unique mark, one that requires effort to grasp the inner world of disintegration and psychological ruin, which often goes unnoticed.
While the στιχομυθία (stichomythia) of the Euripidean original speaks in modern language, it simultaneously gains strength against war and its atrocities. This is most clearly expressed through Selmani’s monologues (who is also part of the cast). The intertwining of two different eras is masterfully balanced through the breaking of the “fourth wall” and occasional modern references: “The whole world is our ancient Troy and your modern Troy. Thousands of horses, not made of wood, but of steel… flying. Iron Pegasi dropping bombs here and there.”
The living suffer
Beyond its technical aspects, the performance as an undertaking is far more demanding than one might expect. In addition to the challenges of a still difficult neighborhood filled with grudges, prejudices, and hostilities, “The Women of Troy” also faced an additional issue. Would the two languages of the performance, Albanian and Serbian, complement each other? As a bilingual production, the work of directors Zana Hoxha and Maja Mitić deserves nothing but praise. The bilingualism is so seamlessly integrated through the interaction of a carefully chosen cast, including Maja Mitić, Shpëtim Selmani, Semira Latifi, Branka Stojković, Qëndresa Kajtazi, Labinot Raci, and Aleksandar Stoimenovski. Therefore, it can be freely said that neither the local audience nor the foreign one could notice any inconsistency.
There are two scenographic details that truly deserve recognition: in the opening scene, sea waves are improvised, from which Poseidon emerges, mourning the fall of Troy. Combined with the sound effects of the roaring sea waves, this creates a profound sense of utter hopelessness in the face of a merciless and mute providence that has abandoned the mortals. Throughout the performance, periodically, pendants appear suspended in the air, an element that aligns with the bitter and anguished faces of the unfortunate women, emphasizing the fragility of their lives. In truth, these are marvelous directorial strategies that use such elements to highlight the heroic efforts of the women against the all-powerful forces.
In the original Greek, almost every declamation of the female characters contains bursts of pain and sorrow (in the original, there are countless instances of wailing sounds such as aiaí aiaí, ottototototoí, ió ió, aiaí, and é é, which, in Euripides’ time, were realistic evocations from daily life). While the agony of these tragic women lingers in the air, the performance as a whole is a beautiful interplay between striking dialogues, a simple yet captivating set, and music that captures the contrasting and ever-changing states of the characters.
It is a blend of Euripidean verses with entirely modern evocations, highlighting the tragic fate of the 20,000 women who were victims of sexual violence during the war in Kosovo. This mental and physical juxtaposition is best expressed by Andromache: “They forced me to live.”
It often happens, especially in moments of agony that deep existential bursts emerge: “Only the dead do not feel pain.” Where Euripides hesitantly expressed any opposition to the gods for their disregard, this performance from Prishtina, full of courage and without a trace of fear, boldly declares that religion itself is a factory of violence. The shattered world of Troy has victims on both sides, but the dead are no longer affected, as fear, agony, and suffering weigh most heavily on those who have survived.
With a notable departure from Euripides’ original work, where the curtains fall with wails and tragedy, this performance brings hope through the insertion of moments of humor. This is another example of breaking the “fourth wall,” where the author and actor, Shpëtim Selmani, revives a scene reminiscent of Woody Allen’s “Deconstructing Harry”: out of nowhere, he comes face to face with his real-life characters, full of quirks, who complain about the fates he has assigned to them. Therefore, where there is hope, there is life!
