Saccha Dennis, Kelsey Verzotti, Max Borowski, Kaden Forsberg and Jacob MacInnis (centre) in “Dion: A Rock Opera”, Photo by Dahlia Katz
Audacious style and relentless momentum make this a thoroughly persuasive, exhilarating production; more importantly though, the theatrical Bacchic frenzy it conjures feels truthful and emotive as it dazzles and seduces.
Though there are references to distinctly modern phenomena, these are slightly incongruous with—or, at least, detached from—the dreamy, abstracted aesthetic of this reworking of Euripides’ The Bacchae. Dion: A Rock Opera, presented by Coal Mine Theatre, feels authentically both contemporary and ancient, but the atavistic qualities are distinctly more real and urgent than the offhand remarks about tweets and such.
Part mortal-part god, Dionysus (Jacob MacInnis)—who goes by Dion to keep it caj with the mortals of Thebes)—comes to earth to avenge the slander of their dead mother Semele and, as an affront to the current conservative reign, introduces wine and debauchery to the locals. Their mortal aunt, Agave (Carly Street) gets caught up in their cult of sensual pleasures, much to the chagrin of her right-wing son, Pentheus (Allister MacDonald), leader of Thebes, who struggles to reinforce his authority.
Extended drama includes Agave’s estrangement from her father, Cadmus (Allan Louis) and his affair with Tiresias (SATE), Pentheus’ blind advisor. As tension mounts, Ted Dykstra and Steven Mayoff’s retro rock opera retelling echoes 1970s classics of the form. There’s a lot of Jesus Christ Superstar, a little Tommy, even a few nods to The Rocky Horror Show. In particular, the number “Closer to Heaven,” in which Dion and the chorus encourage Pentheus to embrace his feminine side, feels in direct conversation with Rocky Horror’s “Don’t Dream It, Be It.”
Director Peter Hinton-Davis fills the narrow, runway-like stage with rich and resonant theatrical artifice. Scott Penner’s formalist set splits the audience down the middle with a line of red tile, bookended with mirrors and glaringly white Hellenistic nude statuettes. His costumes are a thematically expressive mash-up of disparate aesthetics—a little punk, a little Greek, a little glam-rock. This is a world of mesh tank tops, business suits with graffiti, tunics and gold lame. Bonnie Beecher’s lighting design enhances the heightened theatricality with rings and pools of light that evoke the mystical forces that propel the story.
Especially arresting is the depiction of a severed head in the aftermath of a climactic orgy. I expected a stylized prop, but the execution here—simple enough—has astonishing visceral punch.
An ever-present ensemble (Max Borowski, Saccha Dennis, Kaden Forsberg and Kelsey Verzotti), brandishing light tubes and vibing around the main action, give the show a rave-like atmosphere. This is thrilling on its own, but each of the key players caught in the spectacle are charismatic and compelling individuals. As Cadmus, Louis is an imposing presence with a quietly sensual intensity. I was particularly drawn to the pivotal antagonistic pair—MacInnis and MacDonald as ideological opponents, Dion and Pentheus.
Impassioned and flamboyantly carnal, MacInnis has a regal dignity punctuated by an endearing twinkle in their eye. MacDonald offers, arguably, the most complex character. Drawn to the trappings of power, lashing offensively out at the sex and body positive gestalt of his nemesis, his vitriol is revealed to be a desperate overcompensation for repressed desires.
That said, I think his big villain song—the very on-the-nose “Tweet, Tweet, Tweet” is disappointingly generic. It could be considerably more insightful if its taunts had hinted at his interiority—a more substantial set-up for his transformational, fever dream enlightenment in “Two Suns.”
“Moment to Moment” is a poetic coda to all this strife. What meaning can be gleaned from the pleasures and tragedies of life? As answer, Dion glorifies the continuum of experience—the appreciation of each moment as it occurs, fraught with possibility for redemption or mischance.
This slick and fanciful treatment of the story gets a little blurry at the edges, but its lyricism and excess is undeniably stirring.
Dion: A Rock Opera
running February 4 to March 3, 2024
The Coal Mine Theatre (2076 Danforth Ave.)
running time: 80 minutes (no intermission)
Allan Louis in “Dion: A Rock Opera”, Photo by Dahlia Katz