"Equus" sets the scene in an instant: Teenager Alan Strang is being held in an English psychiatric hospital after savagely and inexplicably blinding six horses at the stable where he worked.
* * * ½ Stars | Drama
The young man refuses to speak to his therapist, Martin Dysart, responding instead by singing TV commercial jingles. Dysart is sure he can get to the psychological heart of the crime, but confides that he's beginning to wonder about the ethics of his work. He treats an endless stream of disturbed youths and questions whether he should be thanked for returning them to dull, average lives.
By the time we understand what drives Alan and what haunts his therapist, we have encountered Greek mythology, psychoanalytic theory, religious iconography and homoerotic ecstasy — with a horse. It's a great, provocative drama, one that is given its due at Denver's Avenue Theater.
Peter Shaffer's "Equus," written in 1973, is a timeless work inspired by a true story. (I saw the original Tony-winning Broadway production in 1975, starring Anthony Perkins and Tom Hulce. Mind-blowing.) The Avenue production, which runs through Nov. 21, crackles with energy, repressed and otherwise, and offers terrific performances by Paul Borrillo as Dysart and Spencer Althoff as Alan.
Ably directed by Warren Sherrill, the spare production drives home the questions at the center of the piece: Is it right to "cure" mentally ill people of the passion that makes them unique and alive? By "taking away the pain," is the therapist also blunting the exceptional personality? How do religious rituals and personal belief systems coexist with society's morals? Where do shame and religiosity connect? Is it better to embrace bizarre worship than none at all? And — only half-facetiously — when does obsessive Bible reading become dangerous?
Althoff turns in a soulful performance as Alan, all pent-up rage and confusion, curled in a fetal position or blurting confessions. He re-enacts reverential nights at the stable, secretly riding bareback, naked in the temple of the godhead Equus, as he calls a favorite horse. The actor spills and bares all, performing in the nude for a stretch, showing tremendous vulnerability and anger and making the character's equine obsession real.
The horses are depicted minimally but artfully, with heads of metal wire by Montana sculptor Jim Dolan.
Margie Lamb ranges from timid to explosive as Alan's obsessively religious mother, Dora. Clint Heyn sputters and fades away as Alan's father, Frank. Amalie Millhone exhibits a knowing quality in the lesser role of Hester, the magistrate who brings Dysart the case and acts as his work-wife.
And Borrillo, a deep-throated theater veteran (with a long list of TV credits, too) admirably grounds the show. As Dysart, he depicts the delicate midlife pain of a man in a tedious marriage, questioning his profession, evincing great empathy and sorting the clues as he treats this particular patient.
Certain scenes depicting hypnosis and a truth-telling placebo pill may feel dated. But this is drama, not therapy. Forty years on, "Equus" remains a compelling meditation on madness.
Joanne Ostrow: 303-954-1830, jostrow@denverpost.com or @ostrowdp