Lantern Theater Company at St. Stephen’s Theater, 923 Ludlow St., through May 14,
215-569-9700

There’s an old canard that classical drama was a "pure" form. Tragedy was tragedy, and comedy was comedy. The Greek playwrights knew to keep them separate.

What, then, do we make of Euripides’ The Bacchae, a tragicomic mix that also incorporates such modern ideas as voyeurism and the male fear of powerful women? It is so fresh and surprising, we don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In Bacchae, Pentheus, King of Thebes, has forbidden Bacchic rites, believing them obscene. Attempting to gain control, he imprisons Dionysos — who escapes, exhorting his female followers (including Agave, Pentheus’ mother) to revel. Pentheus is overcome by his own curiosity. Dressed in women’s clothes, he attempts to discover the true nature of the festivities.

One thing is certain. Bacchae is a masterpiece, one of perhaps ten plays that set all ground rules for what comes later. If Sophocles’ Oedipus is the first whodunit, then Bacchae (from 405 B.C.) might be the first psychological thriller. We know who did it, but we don’t (and can’t) ever really know why.

Probably no one production can deal successfully with all the play’s complexities. Lantern Theater provides a provocative and ultimately satisfying version that gets perhaps 75 percent. What doesn’t work, doesn’t work; what does works splendidly.

Problems first. The visual style is a hodgepodge ranging from classical Greece to Pre-Raphaelite to modern. William Zielinski can be charismatic and sexy, but as Dionysos his snaggle-toothed leer and popping eyes seem like something from a slasher movie. Sally Mercer tries earnestly as Agave, but her cool elegance and musical voice do not command the character’s irrational rage. There is little sense throughout this Bacchae of the women’s unbridled violence. The female chorus moves in graceful choreography (by Myra Bazell) and chants in melodic, regular rhythms. Where is the threat?

Yet much of the conversational tone is just right. Paul Schmidt’s fine translation uses modern but poetic language, and the actors (under director Dugald MacArthur) know how to speak it. MacArthur has made canny use of Lantern’s small space, achieving the necessary grandeur through scale and clear stage pictures. As the messenger in one of the play’s most poignant sequences, Frank X is superb. As Pentheus, Tony Lawton crowns a winning season with his best performance yet. It’s a notoriously difficult part, and Lawton unerringly finds the balance of humor, creepiness and genuine tragedy.

Not a perfect production, then, but a compelling one that does honorably by one of the most difficult and important plays in our history.