Oedipus, the legendary Greek king who killed his father and married his mother, was "the original gangsta" and a "mack daddy" who looked like James Brown. At least that's how the story goes in a new hip-hop musical.
The Seven is an updated version of Aeschylus's tragedy Seven Against Thebes, the story of the two sons of Oedipus who take up arms against each other after he curses them.
The program for the play includes a glossary explaining that "mack daddy" is slang for "a pimp; or a man who is popular with the ladies," and that Homer was the author of epic poems "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" before he became a cartoon character on "The Simpsons."
Will Power, the rapper and playwright responsible for The Seven, said he was drawn to Greek tragedy by the mythology, which reminded him of the larger-than-life figures in the poor black San Francisco neighborhood where he grew up. "There's so much mythology within my own world," Power said. "A lot of the stories that I have are real-life people but they became larger than life."
Power not only saw connections in the issues and characters of the myths but he also found parallels in the form of Greek verse and rap, both with staccato lyrics and rhythms. "Supposedly back in the day they were performing it in rhythm, in chanting and dance," said Power, who began performing as a rapper as a teenager before training at the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University.
This is the stuff of Greek mythology all right, but mixed up and scratched out, and given a back beat that recasts these ancient curses and conflicts in a modern form. The narrator is also a DJ, and she mixes up the records much as a playwright mixes a story. Above her, on a raised portion of the set is Oedipus, the angry, sneering, cursed soul who dons a cane, a leather coat and a pair of shades as he screams from the rafters and passes his curse down to his sons.
Everywhere you look, the show is reaching out to draw you in. In the place of mournful soliloquies are a series of angry and creative hip-hop melodies, songs that sample everything from the improvisational style of Stomp to the roof-raising energy of James Brown. In the place of classical prose is a game of modern references and wordplay, littered with phrases such as "hella guards," "player haters" "Original O.D.B.," "Mulder and Scully," and "Punk’d."
Productions like The Seven and playwrights like Power prove that his brand of theater —an experience that spins together hip-hop and Sophocles just as easily as it brings together a crowd of old white theater buffs and young black hip-hop fans, bouncing in their seats — is one of the ways this often-sanitized art form will remain fresh, particularly for a new generation.
The Seven is an updated version of Aeschylus's tragedy Seven Against Thebes, the story of the two sons of Oedipus who take up arms against each other after he curses them.
The program for the play includes a glossary explaining that "mack daddy" is slang for "a pimp; or a man who is popular with the ladies," and that Homer was the author of epic poems "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" before he became a cartoon character on "The Simpsons."
Will Power, the rapper and playwright responsible for The Seven, said he was drawn to Greek tragedy by the mythology, which reminded him of the larger-than-life figures in the poor black San Francisco neighborhood where he grew up. "There's so much mythology within my own world," Power said. "A lot of the stories that I have are real-life people but they became larger than life."
Power not only saw connections in the issues and characters of the myths but he also found parallels in the form of Greek verse and rap, both with staccato lyrics and rhythms. "Supposedly back in the day they were performing it in rhythm, in chanting and dance," said Power, who began performing as a rapper as a teenager before training at the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University.
This is the stuff of Greek mythology all right, but mixed up and scratched out, and given a back beat that recasts these ancient curses and conflicts in a modern form. The narrator is also a DJ, and she mixes up the records much as a playwright mixes a story. Above her, on a raised portion of the set is Oedipus, the angry, sneering, cursed soul who dons a cane, a leather coat and a pair of shades as he screams from the rafters and passes his curse down to his sons.
Everywhere you look, the show is reaching out to draw you in. In the place of mournful soliloquies are a series of angry and creative hip-hop melodies, songs that sample everything from the improvisational style of Stomp to the roof-raising energy of James Brown. In the place of classical prose is a game of modern references and wordplay, littered with phrases such as "hella guards," "player haters" "Original O.D.B.," "Mulder and Scully," and "Punk’d."
Productions like The Seven and playwrights like Power prove that his brand of theater —an experience that spins together hip-hop and Sophocles just as easily as it brings together a crowd of old white theater buffs and young black hip-hop fans, bouncing in their seats — is one of the ways this often-sanitized art form will remain fresh, particularly for a new generation.
