Imagine, if you will, a crowd lined up on a freezing night to push its way into a revival of a classic tragedy. People grab a drink, then rush to get the best seats they can as the house fills with an excited buzz of anticipation. The lights dim, the music swells, the curtain opens, and the crowd roars with delight.
Toto, I don't think we're in Cambridge anymore.
But we are, indisputably, in a theater, and in a lively and thrilling one at that. Don't let the bar fool you - the Ramrod Center for the Performing Arts, as Ryan Landry affectionately calls his part of the basement in the Fenway nightclub Machine, is keeping theater alive in a way that larger and more staid institutions only dream of.
Case in point: "Medea." Yes, the play by Euripides. And, yes, it's been freely adapted by Landry, in the wretched-excess, glitter-drag, hysterio-serio-comedo-tragic tradition of his Gold Dust Orphans. This was the Orphans' first production on a porch in Provincetown, more than a decade ago, and now it's back - this time in the relatively professional setting of Machine. And it's brilliant.
At first, devoted fans of such recent Gold Dust hits as "Silent Night of the Lambs" or "The Plexiglass Menagerie" may fret that "Medea" doesn't start off with as relentless a series of laughs as the troupe's usual outing. Yet while this show is indeed a surprisingly faithful retelling of the old Jason-dumps-her-so-she-offs-his-brats tragedy, it also contains some of the most cathartically funny scenes imaginable.
And I mean "catharsis" quite seriously. Landry and his troupe reenact the witchy Medea's horrific crimes - the aforementioned kiddiecide, plus a golden gown that bursts into flames when Jason's new bride puts it on, and a couple of other treats - with gleeful gusto, pushing each moment so far over the top that it comes screaming down the cliff. You find yourself gasping at the awfulness of it - the little limbs! the spurting blood! - and then, helplessly, laughing harder than you've laughed in months. If that's not cathartic, I don't know what is.
Some of the best moments depend partly on the joy of surprise, so let's not go into detail here. But it is worth noting that Landry makes a remarkable Medea: regal, ridiculous, and blazing with comic fury. All that, and a shower scene, too. (Don't bring the kids.) Afrodite infuses the Nurse with a tremulous passion, while Mark Leahy makes Jason a wonderful beefcake buffoon. And the costumes, by Scott Martino, are particularly delightful this time out, with plenty of gold, swirling chiffon, and even a white pantsuit to die for - or at least to kill a small family for.
The Gold Dust Orphans' "Medea" is rowdy, raunchy, and completely excessive. And that's exactly what makes it irresistible. Without focus groups, marketing consultants, or major donors, the Orphans are doing what theaters should do: pulling in a crowd, filling it with a wild and creative spirit, and sending it revitalized into the night.
Louise Kennedy can be reached at kennedy@globe.com.
