Review: THE OPHIOLITE, Theatro Technis

When Penelope’s father passes away in England, the family divides: where should he be buried? His Greek Cypriot sister thinks ancient tradition should take over, but his wife refuses to move his body abroad. An ugly feud erupts. The plot of The Ophiolite has a lot of potential. Philip de Voni’s debut play addresses loyalty and household politics, ritualistic allegiances and emigration; it’s a shame that the structure is messy, the writing is lousy, the acting is shockingly subpar, and Kerry Kyriacos Michael’s direction is equally disappointing.

Shallow, two-dimensional roles are plagued by unnatural dialogue that runs in circles without saying much at all. The script is heavy and artificial, laden with expositional sequences and turns of phrase that hardly belong to natural conversation. It desperately wants to be intellectual, but beats around the bush before falling flat. Besides the dubious logical cohesion of some parts of the narrative (the links between plot points have to be taken at face value, as do the timeline and logistics of the events), it’s just not a good enough production.

The histrionics of some of the cast lead to eye-rolling, egregious exchanges that don’t belong on a professional stage. The attempted symbolism – starting from the title, which refers to a slab of oceanic crust that’s suddenly thrust above sea level and onto a continent – doesn’t blend within the fabric of the piece, coming off too devised and manufactured. De Voni tries hard to reach for profundity, overdoing the emotional pull and tipping into platitudes in doing so.

The regular hints at the nature of theatre and callbacks to the theatricality of their situation are a tired trope too. But mostly, the characters are not given any time to dig into their personal histories. Their cultural background is prominent, but it’s also just the landscape against which a cheap drama unfolds. Penelope goes off on a romantic tirade about yearning for Cyprus towards the end, but her attachment comes off as quite a surprise, so her epiphany doesn’t hold much weight.

The limited characterisation goes further. Penelope’s mother, Jennifer, has an arbitrary dislike for anything Cypriot. Her sister-in-law despises the Brits (this is, at least, slightly more addressed). Taki’s legacy and his will are never truly taken into consideration. English tea is used as a weapon, Cypriot customs as a threat. It’s all a bit haphazard and emotionally overblown, lacking sophistication and any kind of ideological excavation. 

Acting-wise, it’s a tragedy, with the blame being uniformly shared by the playwright and the director. The beats in the text (or lack thereof) don’t beckon any important performance, but the baseline is, regardless, nonexistent. Stiff deliveries and affected gesturing are only the surface problems of a company that was simply not ready to take on a public staging. As a whole, the project is underdeveloped and overly melodramatic. It overruns by 20 minutes and it would need a strict overhaul to work.

The Ophiolite runs at Theatro Technis until 22 February