Review: Genre-defying Eurydice Fragments travels beyond binaries to another world
Gender-inclusive reimagining of the Eurydice and Orpheus story has dazzling visuals and soaring operatic voices
Teiya Kasahara and Leo D.E Johnson in Eurydice Fragments. Photo by Chelsey Stuyt
re:Naissance presented Eurydice Fragments at Signals Studio at the Centre for Digital Media November 15 to 17 as part of IndieFest
THERE’S MUCH TO celebrate in Eurydice Fragments, an innovative tech-forward and gender-inclusive reimagining of the Eurydice and Orpheus myth.
Presented as part of the fifth annual re:Naissance’s IndieFest, the production highlights the festival’s commitment to amplifying IBPOC and 2SLGBTQIA+ artists through genre-defying performances rooted in opera. In this case, director Debi Wong and her cast and creative team deliver an ambitious and immersive theatrical experience that combines impressive operatic talent with dazzling visuals.
The show’s venue, Signals Studio at the Centre for Digital Media, has been transformed into a cyber-themed lounge. Digital imagery projected on panels creates the illusion of stepping into a virtual simulation. In this bar, virtual-reality headsets are available for audience members to put on to get a sense of the world that the show’s protagonist, O, will be experiencing.
Inside the performance space itself, an enormous digital scene projects against the back wall, depicting the street outside of Styx, a queer nightclub where the story will unfold. With its vivid anime-like colours and style, coupled with moving images of falling rain, the visual presentation draws you into the scene, making you feel as though you’ve stepped into another world. When the show begins and the performers’ soaring operatic voices fill the room, the effect is thrilling.
The story focuses on O and Hope, played by exquisite singers Teiya Kasahara and Brandon Thornhill, respectively. We learn that this is the couple’s first night out since the birth of their child. But when Hope asks O to marry him, it triggers O’s frustrations with Hope’s steadfast binary perspectives. O, who happens to be trans, enters Styx on their own, where Plusephone (Toddy [Emily Bilton]), the gender-expansive host, and bartender Charon (Leo D.E. Johnson) guide them through a transformative journey of self-reflection.
Plusephone and Charon explain to O that this journey will involve “tapping rivers” to look back on pivotal life moments, such as when O met Hope in an acting class. In a clever metaphorical device, this translates onstage to pouring from bar taps, and seeing O transported each time they drink. In every flashback, O is introduced to a digital avatar version of themself that they can later choose to adopt in their life. Extended reality is used, with Shadow (Kunji Ikeda) stepping in as O as present-day O watches from afar. Ikeda is adorned with motion capture gear, each movement projected onscreen through the image of O’s avatar for that scene.
The show’s concept is unquestionably creative and there’s tremendous talent on display, led by Kasahara, who conveys O’s thoughts and emotions through exceptional musicality, expressiveness, and vocal range. There’s also an evil fantasy aesthetic to Alexa Fraser’s costumes, appropriately influenced by the theme of Hades’ underworld. This makes for some wickedly fun moments. Watching Toddy’s commanding portrayal of Plusephone as their entourage performs Alexis Fletcher’s inventive choreography around them evokes shades of The Little Mermaid’s Ursula and her eels.
Yet for all its ambition, the storytelling could benefit from greater clarity and complexity. The significance of choosing an avatar remains murky—does it represent the use of a new avatar on social media or a literal transformation in real life? Furthermore, in each flashback, we’re simply observing O at a different point in their life as opposed to experiencing a different persona. Therefore, the significance of examining these different scenes and developing an avatar from each is unclear.
O’s underworld experience also seems overly elaborate for the purposes of mending their relationship with Hope, which would be presumably more dependent on Hope’s learning and growth. While it’s acknowledged that O’s underworld journey is intended to help them overcome their personal insecurities, there still doesn’t seem to be enough of a tie between O’s journey and the story’s resolution, and the ending feels rushed.
Eurydice Fragments. Photo by Chelsey Stuyt
The tech element could use greater clarity as well. At this performance, it appeared that Ikeda’s movements didn’t always exactly match the onscreen visual, and other times, his movements weren’t projected onscreen at all.
In its current format of 90-minutes with no intermission, Eurydice Fragments could possibly benefit from being extended into a two-act show with an intermission, allowing for the source material to be fleshed out more. Given the vibrant extended-reality themed atmosphere of the venue, audiences would likely appreciate more time to play within the space anyway.
Hopefully there will be future iterations of Eurydice Fragments, because the show’s concept is terrifically imaginative and well intentioned. Very rarely is opera performed outside traditional settings, and the way its packaged here is a sensory delight. Add to that the importance of continuing to amplify IBPOC and 2SLGBTQIA+ works and stories. Let’s hope to see Eurydice Fragments radiate even brighter.
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