Lookingglass' 'Hephaestus' takes creator back to his circus roots

Associated Press

CHICAGO (AP) -- A slinky Aphrodite performs a hula-hoop routine. A muscled Ares balances on one hand over a deep pit.
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Sea nymphs dance an aerial ballet while dangling from blue and green lengths of silk. And Hera sits on her "throne" while it's carried across a high wire during a nerve-racking finale.

When actor Tony Hernandez decided to create a show around a Greek myth, he instantly knew who could portray gods and goddesses capable of awe-inspiring acts: circus performers.

And he didn't have to go far to find them. As a child and teenager, he performed acrobatic stunts in his family's teeterboard act in circuses around the country. The result is Lookingglass Theatre Company's "Hephaestus: A Greek Mythology Circus Tale."

"I just want an audience to sit back and marvel at what the human body can do," said Hernandez, 32, who portrays the title role, the Greek god of fire.

The fact that the show is performed in Lookingglass' intimate, 230-seat theater is appropriate. The company's slogan is "Theater Without a Net" and it's known for productions that are dynamically physical and visually imaginative, including Tony-award winning ensemble member Mary Zimmerman's "Metamorphoses."

"Hephaestus," is scheduled to close March 9, after a two-month run, to make room for other Lookingglass productions.

But Hernandez is trying to find another theater in Chicago where he can do a sit-down production, or take it on the road to New York or Los Angeles. The reviews give him cause for optimism: Chicago Tribune theater critic Chris Jones said if Lookingglass' aims "were purely fiscal or populist, there would no reason to ever close 'Hephaestus.'"

The show actually had a brief, but very successful, run at Lookingglass in 2005. With Lookingglass celebrating its 20th anniversary season this year, a return engagement seemed appropriate, artistic director David Catlin said.

Catlin was one of eight Northwestern University drama students -- including "Friends" actor David Schwimmer -- who, using Schwimmer's bar mitzvah money, decided in 1987 to perform a particularly inventive production of "Alice in Wonderland."

They ended up taking the show to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in Scotland. Promotional materials, which stressed that the production wasn't just for children and was an "adult version of 'Alice in Wonderland,"' prompted sold-out shows and "lots of guys in trench coats," Catlin jokes.

The students decided to form their own theater company, and what would become Lookingglass was created in 1998.

The company operated out of 22 different locations over the next 15 years, until it became a tenant in 2003 in what appears to be a plum spot: The historic Water Works building on Chicago's North Michigan Avenue.

Like the iconic Water Tower across the street, the Water Works survived the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Lookingglass was able to create a versatile black-box theater inside the building, which is still a working water pumping station.

But it sometimes has struggled to draw audiences to the new location. The ornate limestone facade is quite imposing, it's in an area known as a shopping -- not theater -- district, and because of the building's historic nature, opportunities to erect signs are restricted.

Catlin said the city is working with them on the signage issue, and he thinks Lookingglass could do more to pull Chicagoans into the building for non-theater events.

But Lookingglass is also devoted primarily to producing new works, which often lack name recognition. And as a mid-size theater, it doesn't have a large promotional budget, Catlin said.

"That's not a great excuse," he said. "We can be more inventive, and we can figure out ways to get the word out and let people know about the shows even if the titles aren't ones they're familiar with."

And it's managed to have a major success with "Hephaestus," despite centering on a Greek god who is nowhere near a household name.

Hephaestus was the Greek god of fire, especially the blacksmith's fire, and the patron of all craftsmen. There are several variations on the myth, but in the one portrayed at Lookingglass, Hera -- Zeus' wife -- gives birth to Hephaestus, but is angry to find him weak and crippled and throws him off Mount Olympus. He lands in the sea and is cared for by nymphs.

The rest of the story concerns the vengeful acts of the gods, Hephaestus' growing skill as a craftsman, and his reconciliation with Hera.

Lookingglass first began its association with Hernandez through his sister, who was hired to help company members learn some teeterboard skills for a show years ago.

The siblings' mother was a member of a German acrobatic troupe touring in Cuba when she met Manuel Hernandez, a baseball player also enrolled in circus school. The couple married, left for the United States shortly before the Cuban revolution and raised their five children -- Hernandez was the baby -- on the road.

Hernandez made his first appearance under the big top at eight weeks, balancing in the palm of his father's hand. At 2, he was jumping off the teeterboard.

"The circus was a beautiful life," Hernandez said. "I feel blessed to have been part of that world."

Hernandez's family retired from the circus when he was in his late teens, and he eventually turned to acting. Now a Lookingglass artistic associate, he wrote the story of "Hephaestus" with his co-director Heidi Stillman.

The narrator is a young girl reading the story while her parents argue in another room. Along with the circus acts, there is atmospheric music, dancing and spirited pounding on several huge drums suspended above the stage.

Hernandez admires Cirque du Soleil in making circus skills an artistic endeavor, along with the entertainment value of the Blue Man Group. But his aim with "Hephaestus" was to give the audience more narrative than found in those popular productions, he said.

Hera is portrayed by Hernandez's wife, Lijana Wallenda Hernandez, a seventh-generation member of the famous circus family known as "The Flying Wallendas." The two met as children when their families' paths crossed on the circus circuit; they were teenagers when they met again.

Hernandez had picked up various circus skills from friends over the years, including juggling and the flying trapeze. Once he started dating Lijana, he started playing around with her family on the high-wire. His training included his future mother-in-law trying to tackle him off a thin cable suspended just a couple feet off the ground.

In the final high-wire act, Hernandez and the actor who plays Ares (they also met while youngsters) stand on a high wire, a pole stretched across their shoulders. Hernandez's wife balances a chair upon the pole, and the three move across the wire -- while a nearly silent audience watches below, their mouths hanging open in giant "Os."

"I feel," Hernandez said, "like my whole life has been preparing for this show."