If you don't find your heart racing with adrenaline in the final, excruciatingly dangerous moments of Hephaestus: A Greek Mythology Circus Tale, it's best to check your pulse. Queen Hera, wife of Zeus; Ares, god of war; Hephaestus, god of the forge; a silver wire; and a golden throne combine to create a jaw-dropping scene where in one false move—or even one quarter of an inch of one false move—would result in a hideous tangle of broken, badly mangled bodies.
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Playwright: Tony Hernandez. At: Lookingglass Theatre, 821 N. Michigan. Phone: 312-337-0665; $30-$60. Extended through March 9.
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It's no surprise that Hera is played by Lijana Wallenda Hernandez, a seventh-generation member of the famed wire-walking family the Flying Wallendas. A cursory glance of Wallenda history shows that the danger inherent to Hephaestus and its dazzling cavalcade of wirewalkers and aerial artists is very real: Wallenda patriarch Karl died wire walking in San Juan. Karl's son Mario Wallenda became a paraplegic after a stunt went wrong in Detroit. And while Lookingglass often uses the term 'theatre without a net' as something of a precious metaphor, with Hephaestus, they really mean it.
The cast is an-all star team of artists from Cirque du Soleil, elite-level gymnastics and Ringling Brothers. The Water Tower space is small enough so that you can almost feel the whoosh of displaced air as Iris, goddess of the rainbow and Hera's handmaiden, flings herself skyward and then drops down to dangle by her heels from a length of rope set hurtling toward the overhead light fixtures.
Created by Tony Hernandez and directed by Hernandez and Heidi Stillman, Hephaestus is as rich with infectious, percussive music and quirky humor as it is with gorgeous stunt work. It's no coincidence that Hernandez—who also plays Hephaestus—was a member of the Wallendas' Guinness record-breaking seven-man pyramid in 1998. True to the myth of Hephaestus, he literally falls from the sky ( well, the fly space ) in an early scene, an astounding human gunshot catapulted through a raging thunderstorm. Then, soaking wet as he crawls up from the maw of underground oceans, Hephaestus begins his journey as he encounters a bevy of ethereal sea nymphs, floating on silk waves that twirl far above the ground.
Molding a team of silver men from the forge to keep him company, Hephaestus embarks on a series of adventures that ultimately lead him to vengeance on his estranged mother, Hera. The story is almost beside the point, a coat hanger for an endlessly rich tapestry of dare devilry. But Hephaestus succeeds despite having only a wisp of a story and paper-thin characters. This is a piece about gorgeous danger, a spectacle of steely nerves. Unlike so many spectacles, this spectacle is firmly rooted in pure human achievement rather than special effects or extraordinary sets.
Composers Kevin O'Donnell and Josh Horvath and Ray Nardelli's contributions can't be understated. The trio collaborated to create a soundscape that is alternately eerie, winsome and rollicking and serves to ensure a seamless flow between scenes.
