Agamemnon tells the story of the great King's victorious return from the Trojan War. Anxiously awaiting him in Argos are his treacherous wife Clytemnestra (Linda Park), his faithful daughter Electra (Catherine Friesen), and his loyal citizens. Clytemnestra has ruled Argos during the King's 10-year absence with a secret hatred burning in her heart as she dreams of avenging her eldest daughter Iphigenia's death, a death for which Agamemnon (Jonathan Co Green) was culpable. With her new lover Aegistus (Seth Powers) by her side, Clytemnestra plots to murder the King upon his homecoming, with the impending action set against the backdrop of a great banquet.

Cardenas has written an inspired, if dense, adaptation. She reinvents the traditional Greek chorus as a team of chefs preparing Agamemnon's welcome feast. The Fates are transformed into three crudely mechanical dogs, brilliantly designed by Andrea Gastelum and maneuvered and "voiced" with excellent precision by a trio of actresses.

In addition, food is a major ingredient in this highly conceptualized adaptation. Much of the text concerns itself with food—its smells, its tastes, and its beauty. Clytemnestra commands the chorus to prepare a hero's feast complete with "tuna encrusted in pomegranate seeds" and "beef in pomegranate sauce." While the chorus prepares Agamemnon's homecoming using real food, the smells permeate the space and surround the audience members, who have now become guests at Clytemnestra's fatal banquet. In a particularly inventive sequence, the chorus chants the blood-red contents of the menu in a choreographed ballet.

At times, the script takes its love of food too far, sacrificing plot for concept. So much time is spent preparing the banquet and on the extended metaphor of equating food with violence that Cardenas struggles to resolve the story. As a result, Agamemnon is 20 minutes too long, making the ending more of an addendum than a conclusion.

As the play nears the two-hour mark, sans intermission, Agamemnon's naked body (a distracting choice) is paraded about as Clytemnestra delivers her conclusive soliloquy. In another unfortunate choice, the stage is next given over to Clytemnestra's lover, Aegistus. His eleventh-hour extended monologue, which presents his motives, proves irrelevant and distracting, and undermines both Clytemnestra and the story.

Powers is saddled with the ill-conceived roles of Aegistus and the Messenger. His Aegistus looks like a poor man's Marilyn Manson, making him more funny than frightening. As the Messenger, he gives a loud, annoying performance full of screaming, manic pacing, and too much sweat.

Fortunately, Powers is counteracted by Park, Green, and David Arkema. All three actors deliver thoughtful, multilayered portraits. As Archestratos, the show's narrator, Arkema keeps the audience engaged with an energetic and intelligent performance, despite the poor decision to unnecessarily pad his costume. Arkema is also given outstanding support by the very capable nine-member chorus.

Green imbues Agamemnon with a disturbing sadness, making him a man haunted by his past actions to the point where he is physically immobilized. His controlled physicality and deliberate delivery are masterfully executed and a triumph of craft.

Park makes an established role all her own. She gives Clytemnestra a charismatic demeanor and a seductive smile that mask the heart of a ruthless murderer. Effortlessly switching from mischief to mayhem, Park's Clytemnestra makes no apologies for her actions, giving full conviction to her depraved deeds.

The overall credit for Agamemnon's success goes to Cardenas, as this was clearly a labor of love for her. Still, the production's many triumphs make its shortcomings, albeit few, all the more glaring. Edits to the crowded script would greatly help turn this production into the exceptional treasure it deserves to be.