‘Ithacan Idol Presents: The Odyssey’ vibrantly reimagines the classic tale McGill Classics Play subverts any single interpretation

Ella Gomes Contributor

On Feb. 2, audiences at Théâtre Sainte-Catherine attended the opening night of Ithacan Idol Presents: The Odyssey , this year’s rendition of the McGill Classics Play. Since 2011, the McGill Classics Play program has showcased annual student-led English performances of ancient Greek and Latin texts, in addition to offering public lectures from guest speakers and free workshops for the community.

In 2023’s installment of the theatrical tradition, directors Audrey Michel and Emma Weiser adapted the classic Greek epic The Odyssey into a spunky, fun, and subversive game show that asks, “Who is Odysseus?”

Set amid Odysseus’s (Gabrielle Gaston, U3 Arts) travels away from home, the play centres around his loving wife, Penelope’s (Fiona Vail, U3 Arts) staging of the Ithacan Idol: A competition in which contestants perform their own renditions of Odysseus’s story to prove who knows the epic hero best. The show’s openended nature allows every contestant to shine in their own unique ways, each showing off a different school of thought used to dissect The Odyssey throughout history.

From the Victorian era to modern fan fiction, the cast is replete with colourful caricatures of each method. Percy (El Bush, U2 Arts) proclaims the heroism of both Odysseus and football. Mabel (Zeynep Alsancak, U2 Science) taps into the artistic sensuality of his adulterous affairs, much to Penelope’s chagrin. Charlie (Charlie Gagnon, U2 Arts) expresses the beauty in the epic hero’s humanity. Lexi (Maddie Butler, U3 Arts) retells Circe’s side of the story with heaps of confidence and an affinity for self-promotion. Lastly, Georgie (Théa Sebaaly, U0 Arts) critiques Odysseus’s colonial impact.

As the contestants repeatedly argue over which perspective is correct, each interpretation’s strengths and shortcomings come to light. While Charlie protests a critique of Odysseus that denies him the ability to make mistakes, Georgie counters by pointing out his disturbing treatment of Polyphemus (Théa Sebaaly, U0 Arts) that mirrors settler colonialism. Among important debates about interpreting historical figures with a modern sensibility, audiences are treated to hilarious bits and quips, including Lexi’s references to online culture and the reimagination of Odysseus’s crew as a gaggle of frat boys. In a post-show talkback, Michel explained the intent behind the decision to balance each perspective.

“I think what was very important to us is not putting one reception of the Odyssey above the others, in a sense,” Michel said. “All are important, and all are important to see together, but also, all are incomplete.”

Penelope stands as the character with perhaps the most complete story arc. While many of the contestants remain somewhat tied to the caricatured qualities of their era’s interpretation style, Penelope’s upbeat, confident demeanour noticeably fades over the course of the two acts as Odysseus’ flaws are put on full display. Michel and Weiser focused significantly on Penelope’s development, which culminates in an effective emotional monologue that showcases the Ithacan queen in a raw, vulnerable light.

When discussing their motivation to dissect The Odyssey in this year’s performance during the play’s talkback, Weiser expressed a feeling of being “haunted” by Odysseus: “He has been interpreted and reinterpreted so many times throughout literary history that we just knew we wanted to do something to kind of showcase that slipperiness of his.”

The play’s centring of Penelope and its highlighting of The Odyssey ’s various interpretations cleverly produces an introspective on the work’s long history of reception and adaptation. Complete with eccentric personas, clever reimaginations of supporting characters, and well-written monologues, Ithacan Idol Presents: The Odyssey provides a unique educational deep-dive into an iconic hero.

Ithacan Idol Presents: The Odyssey will complete its final performances on Feb. 9 and 10 at the Théâtre Sainte-Catherine, both at 7 p.m. Tickets are available online. On Feb. 10, at 2:30 p.m., the accompanying McGill Classics Play Talk will take place in Leacock 808.

I was nine years old when I first decided to go to synagogue with my grandfather. Every Saturday, I would sit on my couch, looking out the window onto the driveway, waiting for Zaidy Ell to pick me up in his grey minivan at 9:30 a.m.

I began this weekly tradition after accompanying my family for the year of mourning for the passing of my grandmother, Bubby Shirl. I enjoyed spending the time with Zaidy Ell, and I wanted to see if religion would speak to me, resonate with me in a way that it hadn’t with the rest of my secular family.

I had a lot of questions about the synagogue experience. I noticed that the old men who were called up to the Torah pronounced their Hebrew differently than the younger Rabbi. Some men wore blue and white prayer shawls while others wore black and white. There were also no other kids my age there. Parents often brought their toddlers with them, but once they reached my age, they seemed to stop going.

Looking back, I never enjoyed synagogue that much. I would time my bathroom breaks specifically to miss the longest standing part, and the food afterwards at the Kiddush was always pretty gross. But I loved the snarky remarks Zaidy Ell and I would make about people or the playful punches on each other’s thighs to make sure we weren’t falling asleep.

Mostly, I enjoyed the car rides there and back when he would tell me stories. He told me about his grandmother, Bubbe Sarah, who had taught him Yiddish and who raised him after his father died and his mother got sick. When she drank tea, he recalled, she would pour it into the saucer to cool it down and suck the tea through sugar cubes. He also told me about his grandfather, Zaide Charles (Shaya), who deserted the Russian army during the Russo-Japanese War and always put on his shoes before his pants—a technique he was taught as a soldier.

He would also answer the questions that I had. He explained to me that the blue and white prayer shawl, or tallis, signifies that the diasporic Jewish yearning has been fulfilled because Israel exists, while the black and white signifies that Jews are still mourning and yearning because the Messiah hasn’t yet come. He conceived it as a way of enacting a vision for the community through individual choice of dress. He wore a blue and white tallis, the same style he gave me for my Bar Mitzvah.

He taught me that the Rabbi spoke a more modern Hebrew, while he and the older Eastern European Jews, or Ashkenazim, use a different pronunciation—pronouncing many of the T sounds in modern Hebrew like S’s and pronouncing “Oh” like “Oi.”

Going to synagogue didn’t make me religious, but the folklore Zaidy Ell shared connected me to a time and place—a place that wasn’t my hometown of Toronto or that suburban synagogue. Ashkenazi Jews commonly refer nostalgically to their place of origin as the Old Home, or Alte Haym in Yiddish. However, defining what that meant for me required a synthesis of place and belonging which felt difficult to articulate.