Iphigenia

If your knowledge of Greek history is limited to Ray Harryhausen films and some half-remembered high school Honors English, then Michael Cacoyannis’ Iphigenia (1977), based on the play by Euripides, might seem above your pay grade. But there’s a reason these mythological tales have such staying power; they’re often built around universal truths, political drama and emotional baggage that’s all too familiar even in the modern era. Minus the stop motion monsters, of course.

Despite its resemblance to Clash of the Titans, there are no krakens unleashed in this story of King Agamemnon, ruler of Argos, who’s duped into sacrificing his daughter, Iphigenia, in order to appease the gods and raise the winds that will send his ships to Troy. Iphigenia’s mother, Queen Clytemnestra, rages for her doomed daughter’s plight, enlisting the help of Achilles to convince his fellow soldiers of the tragedy in the making. But in a world of weak, petty men beholden to their positions of power, women – even Queens and Princesses - are little more than pawns on a chessboard.

The feminist angle inherent in Cacoyannis’ film is the most interesting aspect of an otherwise emotionally overwrought and theatrical adaptation. Irene Papas, her eyes blazing with righteous vengeance beneath a pair of eyebrows worthy of a goddess, bowls over every other performance in sight as Clytemnestra. Begging, bargaining and finally blaspheming for her daughter’s life, her frustration towards a foolish patriarchy passing itself off as divine will becomes the film’s emotional engine.

Filmed with government funding, utilizing hundreds of extras and making a big splash at Cannes, what’s most surprising is how little any of that matters. Unlike the Greek New Wave, which gravitated towards unconventional street-level stories, Iphigenia smuggles its contemporary concerns inside the rigid framework of a conventional Greek tragedy. Its critique on the preservation of power and the quiet futility of non-violent resistance cut deeper than the attempted spectacle that garnered all that attention in the first place.

Radiance’s limited-edition Blu-ray has a wonderful mid-‘70s look about it, cleaning up the image but leaving all the cinematic residue that defines the era. Extras include a new interview with Greek film expert Dimitris Papanikolaou, archival press footage from the 1977 Cannes Film Festival, an archival interview with Cacoyannis and Irene Papas, reversible sleeve and liner notes with new writing on the film.