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At the theatre these days, we are rarely asked to play. Producers, who live or die on the accuracy of their reading of the public mood, have registered the current climate of fear and exploited our need for succor. The glut of movies-into-musicals and refurbished revivals is a kind of "Pimp My Mind" of theatre. Audiences are happy to pay top dollar to see what they already know; it's the unknown that petrifies them. Sarah Ruhl's "Eurydice" (at the Second Stage, under the direction of Les Waters), a luminous retelling of the Orpheus myth from his beloved wife's point of view, is exhilarating because it frees the stage from the habitual. Watching it, we enter a singular, ...