By Joy Watters at the Edinburgh International Festival

IT IS nearly two decades since Alan Cumming appeared on the Scottish stage, and he makes his return in an unforgettable manner, lowered onto the stage in a little gold number, bare buttocks to the world. It is clear from the outset that the bacchanalia has begun.

Carnoustie’s own has come back for this co- production between the Edinburgh International Festival and National Theatre of Scotland in a version of Euripides’ disturbingly comic tragedy which has its world premiere at the King’s, Edinburgh.

Writer David Greig has taken Ian Ruffell’s literal translation and created a work of contrasts, telling the story of Dionysus returning home to Thebes to be acknowledged as a deity.

Dionysus, son of Zeus and the mortal Semele, arrives with his band of wild dancing women, the Bacchae. He is in disguise, dressed as a dancing girl (metallic kilt and weskit in this Scots production).

His arrival puts him into direct conflict with King Pentheus, who opposes everything that Dionysus’ orgiastic mystical cult embodies.

The women of the city think differently and head off to the hills to celebrate the rites of the god of wine, ecstasy and drama.

Pentheus cannot resist the Bacchic powers and he too dons women’s clothing in order to spy on the dancers. His fate is to be ripped apart by the women as Thebes learns all gods must be accepted and the dangers of trying to oppress different kinds of beliefs is graphically brought home.

John Tiffany’s production is characterised by two very different approaches. Initially it is bright and brash, with lots of campery as Dionysus and his band hit town—at times it feels like an ’80s rock musical; but set against that is a tragic final scene characterised by two beautifully judged classic performances.

Cumming commands the stage, talking to the audience and getting their attention from the start. It is an ideal role for him as Dionysus slips between identities, seductive and vengeful, soft and feminine, bitter and raging at society’s refusal to recognise him as a god.

The concept of the Bacchae as a 10-strong group of black women is a great one but their songs are as light as the feathers on their gorgeous red frocks, failing to utilise their choral powers.

Tony Curran conveys the repression of Pentheus by barking out the lines until his comic interlude as he is wooed into women’s clothing by the disguised god.

It is left to Paola Dionisotti as Pentheus’ mother Agave and Ewan Hooper as Cadmus, grandfather of the two protagonists, to give the final speeches after the horrendous death of the king. Both are unforgettable, displaying a heart-rending depth of understanding of the tragedy.

It finishes in Edinburgh tonight, and then runs at the Theatre Royal in Glasgow from August 28 to September 1.