Review: Penthesilea

According to French philosopher Georges Bataille, eroticism is assenting to life up to the point of death. This principle drives the Internationaal Theater Amsterdam’s production of Penthesilea, charting the path of its titular queen of the Amazons: women who can only have sex with men they defeat on the battlefield. 

Taking place in a brutalist visual universe – yet with the inventive flourish of 80s new wave rock performed by the cast standing in as enactments of battle – director Eline Arbo’s production strips back the grandiosity of Greek myth to its most essential element: the fatal collision of death and desire. Actors are dressed in black, be it the black gossamer adorning (a somewhat queered) Achilles, Penthesilea’s love interest; or her own suit with its harsh, masculine lines. When the red of blood makes its appearance, it is striking. It starts off controlled, with one bloodied palm. By the end, there is no containing the red viscera strewn across the stage. 

The unstoppable momentum of fate finds a breathtaking expression in how synthesisers, drum kits, and eventually, a metal basin of blood descend dynamically from the ceiling as if divinely ordained. There is no melodrama here, and while there are moments of rockstar carnality, Penthesilea is less interested in being sexy than exploring the twin animal instincts for sex and violence as conquest – hurtling our characters to their tragic demise. It only serves the production’s full commitment to the overwrought absurdity of mythology: the belief that one could, in fact, love another so much that they have no choice but to devour them alive.