Oscar Wilde originally wrote Salome in French because he predicted it would be quickly banned in Victorian-era England. (He was correct.) Wilde revised an English translation, but he never saw his play produced in either language—by that time, he'd been imprisoned for "gross indecency," AKA having sex with other men in Victorian-era England.

Salome was allegedly banned for depicting biblical characters (also outlawed in Victorian England), but the work’s portrayal of violence, sensuality, and femme cunning provided plenty of additional fuel for censors. Even now, it makes for a complex, difficult, and interesting performance. Imago Theatre’s wrenching one-act two-hour staging brings all these dark, human characteristics to the foreground, while also, ever so slightly, leavening the story with friendship, forbidden love, and a memorable interlude of choreography.

The play unfolds at a riotous banquet, staged by Herod (Jeff Giberson), king of Judea, and his wife Herodias (Diane Slamp), the widow of Herod’s brother. Herodias’ daughter Salome  (Jaiden Wirth) absents herself to the garden, where an underground cistern-prison holds a feral desert prophet, Jokanaan (Max Bernsohn), or, in English, John the Baptist. 

Jokanaan is guarded by several soldiers, but Salome is fascinated by his voice and his fierce preaching and asks the soldiers to release him, so she can see him. One soldier (Joe Cullen) is infatuated with Salome, and this infatuation facilitates Jokanaan's release. In a superbly-restrained hypnotic use of seductive language, Salome convinces him: “You will do this thing for me.” Her face brilliantly exhibits almost no emotional depth throughout the artful seduction. In a presentiment of things to come, the soldier gives way to her demand. 

Jokanaan is released only to condemn Salome as a child of incest, fallen and unholy. He exhorts her to a life of repentance and devotion to Christ. Enchanted by his voice, Salome predicts: “I will kiss thy mouth, Jokanaan” before Jokanaan returns to his prison, and the soldier stabs himself. 

Upon entering the garden, Herod (who also lusts for his stepdaughter!) commands Salome to dance for him. She refuses until she extracts a promise: He will give her absolutely anything she wants, after the dance. 

Salome then performs the Dance of the Seven Veils—the best-remembered aspect of this play—in a fierce piece of choreography by Wirth and Imago co-founder Jerry Mouawad. Though the dance represents only about six or seven minutes in a two-hour play, it is the linchpin for everything that follows.

When the cost comes due, Salome requests: “I would that they presently bring me in a silver charger.... the head of Jokanaan.” Despite the king's horror, Salome insists. Jokanaan's head is brought to her on a silver platter and—covered in his blood—she mocks him for having cursed and scorned her, and kisses his mouth. And her own fate emerges.

The main axis of Salome is its eponymous central character; Wirth has filled her out in an impressive, multifaceted, and understated manner. She is simultaneously the placid ice-princess, the incorruptible virgin, and—above all—the lethal, femme fatale seductress. Salome's repetitive refrain to the infatuated soldier: “You will do this thing for me” ensnares us, like watching a slow-motion car crash. You wish you could take your eyes off it, but you can't. 

During the even more impressive pas de deux with Bernsohn, Wirth's hand flutters half an inch from his face. Salome assures Jokanaan she will get her way again. As the other half of Salome’s coin, Jokanaan is as holy and devoted to his lord as Salome is devoted to sensuality and to herself. Even while in prison, he repeats the same invective against sinfulness—the sinfulness of Salome and her mother particularly—that got him imprisoned in the first place. 

Herod is a foil to Salome’s and Jokanaan’s complexities. He enjoys his dictatorship and its perks, his casual cruelty—like having his enemies crucified—does not disturb his happiness,  and he cackles at Salome’s dance like a frat boy at a strip club. 

Mouawad has staged a harsh, complex study of some of the darker characters in the human circus. The production's strengths are the meticulously crafted personae of Salome and Jokanaan; Wirth and Bernsohn have most recently played difficult roles together as Stella and Stanley in Imago’s Streetcar Named Desire. 

Also present within Imago's Salome are small side-plots that leaven its darkness. The friendship and loyalty between the soldiers and the friend-enemy competition between mother and daughter are two such distractions. Some of the lesser characters veer into melodrama and overacting, and discussions about Greek philosophers and various denominations of Judaism may slow things down, but these asides are brief and do not distract from the arc of the play. It is well worth a visit. 

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Salome plays through Sun April 27 at Imago Theatre, 17 SE 8th, $30, tickets and showtimes, 16+