Goodman’s excellent ‘Penelopiad’ examines Homer’s ‘Odyssey’ from the female perspective

“The Penelopiad” — 4 stars

Goodman Theatre’s Chicago premiere of “The Penelopiad” commences with a resounding thwack from a large sack dropping onto the stage. It is the first of several startling moments in artistic director Susan V. Booth’s canny, confident, passionately acted production of the play by Margaret Atwood (“The Handmaid’s Tale”) examining Homer’s “The Odyssey” from the perspective of Odysseus’ long-suffering wife, Penelope.

From that sack, we hear female voices whose murmurs the titular Penelope attempts to silence, but not before one barely discernible voice whispers: “Why did she wait so long?”

The question most obviously refers to the 20 years that Penelope, a minor character in Homer’s epic and a paragon of fidelity and virtue, awaited Odysseus’ return from the Trojan War. But it also references Penelope’s 12 maids, innocents doomed for faithfully serving their mistress whose acknowledgment of complicity in their deaths is long overdue. Why did she wait so long?

We meet the deceased Penelope (fine work by TV veteran Jennifer Morrison, who grew up in Arlington Heights) self-described “edifying legend, a stick used to beat other women with” — in Hades where she offers her side of the epic tale.

Raised by an indifferent mother and a wary father, she married Odysseus at 15, bore him a son, Telemachus, and waited patiently at wind-swept Ithaca for her husband’s return. During his absence, the resourceful Penelope fends off the advances of brutish suitors vying to marry her and take over her husband’s kingdom. To that end, she enlists her faithful maids to ingratiate and distract the suitors, who sexually assault the women in scenes no less disturbing for the stylized depiction of barbarity.

“I can see that my actions were ill-considered and caused harm,” admits Morrison’s Penelope, rationalizing her failure to protect those she called sisters. “But I was running out of time and becoming desperate, and I had to use every ruse and stratagem at my command.”

She escaped unscathed. Her maids weren’t so lucky.

Upon his return, Odysseus slaughters the suitors and orders Telemachus to kill the maids, who die hanging by the very ropes they skipped in the opening scene.

One might expect such disturbing moments in a play rooted in the oppression of women and the violence against them. And yet Atwood incorporates humor and warmth into the tale, the latter reflected in the scene when Penelope and her maids conspire to thwart the attentions of her unwelcome suitors.

However, sisterhood only goes so far. And while Atwood’s “Penelopiad” purports to give voice to marginalized females, the one who speaks at length is Penelope, an aristocrat. The enslaved women who were “bought, traded, captured, kidnapped” did not enjoy that privilege.

“We had no voice,” they say. “We had no name. We had no choice.”

Goodman’s noteworthy, all-female cast is led by Morrison, whose performance suggests that for all her kindness and cunning, Penelope recognizes neither her privilege nor her responsibility for the death of her maids, who remind her in the play’s final moments that she failed to utter the word that could have spared them. Why did she wait?

Aja Alcazar, Demetra Dee, Maya Lou Hlava, Noelle Kayser, Elizabeth Laidlaw, Helen Joo Lee, Tyler Meredith, Ericka Ratcliff, Andrea San Miguel, Laura Savage, Allison Sill and Hannah Whitley play the maids, the suitors (outfitted with oversize arms, saggy bellies and droopy behinds courtesy of costume designer Kara Harmon) and serve as a Greek chorus (which actually sings and dances). They also take on other characters. Meredith is the restless Odysseus. Ratcliff plays overbearing Eurycleia, Odysseus’ former nursemaid. And Helen Joo Lee plays Helen of Troy, Penelope’s arrogant, attention-craving cousin whose elopement with Paris sparks the war that separates Penelope and Odysseus.

Atwood’s powerful play-with-music features folk songs, jump blues and moody ballads by composer Samuel Davis. Sound designer Willow James creates a provocative aural prologue comprised of moody rumblings punctuated by crow caws and bird trills. And Joann M. Hunter’s choreography — ballet with a contemporary twist — is lovely.

With its silvery rope curtain (a reference to the maids’ grisly fate) and stepped seating suggesting an ancient amphitheater, Neil Patel’s ascetic gray set is an ideal backdrop for Atwood’s tale. His most striking set piece, Penelope’s enormous loom that the maids ascend via silks, adds a touch of whimsy to the design.

“The Penelopiad” marks Booth’s first production since taking over as artistic director two years ago. Taking advantage of Goodman’s considerable resources, Booth delivers a grandly staged, highly charged production that makes for an impressive debut.

Leaving the theater, I recalled the old saying: You never get a second chance to make a first impression. Booth doesn’t need one.

I can’t wait to see what she does next.

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Location: Goodman Theatre, 170 N. Dearborn St., Chicago, (312) 443-3800, goodmantheatre.org

Showtimes: 7:30 p.m. Wednesday and Friday; 2 and 7:30 p.m. Thursday and Saturday; and 2 p.m. Sunday through March 31

Tickets: $25-$90

Running time: About 2 hours, 10 minutes including intermission

Parking: Nearby garages, discounted parking with Goodman Theatre validation at the Government Center Self Park at Clark and Lake streets

Rating: For adults; includes suggested sexual violence, violence, strong language