“Follow the lights and the shadows. We are minds that put on flesh and burst into flame. Invoked or not, the spirit moves.”
Here is Freud, 50 years old and feeling mortal and needing a tough goy to carry his brainchild past the gates of the gentile establishment. Here is Carl Jung, powerful of mind and body but still wet behind the ears and needing a mentor to show him the ropes. It’s a perfect match and a doomed one. Two towering geniuses develop a partnership of amazing fertility then tear it to bits. The problem is the myth. As there grows in Freud the concept of the Oedipus complex, it sinks its tentacles into his life. He becomes the old king, who believes himself doomed to die at the hand of his heir. Like the father of Oedipus, he takes preemptive action, with heartrending results.
And there’s more: remarkable women, dueling visions, madness and transcendence, demons and gods. In these early days of psychoanalysis, brilliance and vision abound and miracles occur and the possibilities seem endless and maybe they are. On stage are seven characters alive with passion and eloquence at this amazing new magic they’re bringing into being. Ideas erupt, emotions catch fire, libidos swell, interiors are bared. Into each role the actor can sink teeth.
(Where Three Roads Meet premiered in 2006 at the Midtown International Theatre Festival, presented by Aim High Productions. Will Warren directed. It enjoyed the best box office of the whole festival.)
“Our lives are tragedies, aren’t they, performed for the entertainment of the gods. They pull our strings and laugh to see us twitch.”