Ellen Stewart, the “mama” everyone thinks of when they think of La MaMa, has been unironically described as a goddess of the downtown theater. Her establishment has played host to many of the important, international companies, and it continues to be an artistic home to followers of Grotowski and Kantor. But Ms. Stewart has started believing her own press. In the execrable “Perseus,” evidence of her pretensions to godhood is everywhere.

Adhering to a decades-old pattern (used best by Andrei Serban), Ms. Stewart has written a poetic drama about the hero Perseus, had it translated into Greek, and then set to music by Elizabeth Swados. As before, if one follows faithfully along in the program, you can just barely keep up with the mythological events on offer. In the muddle, at least Ms. Swados’s composition is compelling (if gong-heavy). She and Michael Sirotta score the two hours with juicy choral chanting, led by Benjamin Mercantoni’s spooky soprano. Despite the inexpert voices of the majority of the cast, they combine in impressive force in the La MaMa Annex’s echoing barn.

Unfortunately, it is also necessary to watch the production. Ms. Stewart has taped a seemingly endless supply of young acolytes willing to explore the ancient conundrum of “Would Andromeda wear underwear?” while writhing around in skimpy bits of gauze. There were two distinct nymph categories: those who wore something on their tops but showed off their thongs and those who were more prone to bear their breasts. As for the men, dance belts under shorty-chitons left very little to the imagination. If a man’s character were divine or royal, he might score one of the gold lame Speedos, and those left even less.

Now maintaining dignity while wearing a gold G-string is not easy. But costuming was only a peripheral worry for some. Eager to exploit the circus-ready talents of her cast, Ms. Stewart put at least half of them in harnesses, dangling inelegantly from the ceiling. Perseus descends from scarves (a la Jane Krakowski in “Nine”) and flutters them menacingly at an approaching monster; Hermes can only enter or leave by walking shakily across a bright-blue tightrope; and Zeus, trussed in a sparkle-curtain, flies bumpily down through a hole in the ceiling for his big “shower of gold” sequence.

If she can jackhammer a hole in her ceiling for a 15-second stunt, Ms. Stewart clearly has the kind of environmental control other directors would kill for. She doesn’t act subtle about it either. Hera, mother of the gods (the shrewish, yelly one) is played again by Valois Mickens. It can’t be a coincidence that, in a tumbling wig of white curls, Ms. Mickens is a dead ringer for Ms. Stewart herself – who presides over her work from a few feet away. Just because the show was actually happening didn’t mean Ms. Stewart needed to relax her grip. When an excess of smoke from the Gorgon pit set off the fire alarm, the musicians naturally stopped playing in the face of wailing air-raid sirens. Over all the noise (and across several rows of audience), Ms. Stewart snarled, “Why have you stopped?” Just because we could all die a fiery death was no reason to stop the dramatic momentum, so the musicians carried on, and we watched while Perseus chopped the head (a basket with googly eyes) from Medusa’s shoulders. It was an apt metaphor. There’s one thing “Perseus” makes clear: Medusa’s head isn’t the only thing that can turn its observers to stone.

***

Knowing what a cynical git Oscar Wilde could be, it’s an odd truth that he is responsible for some of the greatest children’s stories ever written. His “The Happy Prince,” for example, tells the straight truth about the costs and rewards of generosity, and it still moves certain adults to tears. Sitting weepily through Annie Wood’s charming version now on at the New Victory, one hoped the children present were Learning Their Lesson. It is much more likely that the combined antics of peppy Paul Cunningham and sweet Veronica Leer just amused and entertained them, judging from the gigglings and whisperings around me. Once again, the New Victory has found something for the very young and their parents too – as long as the parents involved are willing to get a bit soppy.

“Perseus” until May 15 (74A E. 4th Street, between Bowery and Second Avenue, 212-475-7710).

“The Happy Prince” until May 8 (209 W. 42nd Street, 212-239-6200).