Review: Hadestown

And so it is that the unplanned road turns out to be every bit as intriguing as its least-travelled companion. When in 2018 I had happened upon an idea of weaving threads of The Odyssey with the toing and froing of the regulars of a Glasgow pub, it never occurred to me, not even fleetingly, that I might’ve supped from the deep well of Greek mythos. Unwittingly, I’d return. I really ought to have seen that coming…and would’ve had I not been as blind as Polyphemus. In short, writing and producing Dance The Colour Blue (2023), reduced my odds of being amongst this particular audience.

Anais Mitchell’s Hadestown weaves the hitherto unwoven stories of Eurydice and Persephone, loosely anchoring it in Depression-era New Orleans. The result is an intriguing juxtaposition, a dialectic which yields rich dividends. Mitchell together with director Rachel Chavkin, smartly circumvent the devilling issue of prior knowledge by bringing forth the messenger God to deftly introduce characters and their relationships…all to the metre-beat of song. Only the insouciant Hermes and his limitless reserves of elan could serve exposition…and have an audience eagerly lap it up. Now prepared for the story to come, Hadestown’s tale of love and sacrifice ensues. A café/bar setting somewhere in New Orleans: a place where Orpheus works at a time when Eurydice rushes in. Eyes lock, hearts melt but can he support her? Orpheus attempts to reassure with his song which he claims has the power to change the world. A song which is not yet complete. And one that Hermes has heard before. Into this setting arrives Persephone, the queen of Nature, decked in the colours of spring. There is merriment, wine…and inevitably a vow between Eurydice and Orpheus to stay together. Summer waxes, then wanes, and the formidable Hades arrives by train to retrieve his wife, Persephone, and return her to the Underworld. Persephone’s absence ushers in winter and brings forth a storm which resounds with the wrath of the Gods mediated by The Fates who contrive to strip Eurydice of her last earthly belongings. Vulnerable and alone, Eurydice is approached by Hades who offers her a place in the Underworld. It’s warm there. The Fates, never far away, descend again and push her into a decision. Behind closed doors, Eurydice signs her life away. When word reaches Orpheus, he is distraught at the thought of not seeing his love again and pleads with Hermes for help. There is a way to the Underworld but it is little-travelled and predictably treacherous. The Fates swoop down on Orpheus as he journeys. He defends himself by singing his song…which cracks the wall of the Underworld.

In Hadestown, workers are denuded of their personality which dissipates into a memoryless ether. Their every-waking moment dedicated to building a never-ending wall. Mitchell has also written the music and lyrics. Every line of every song is skillfully crafted and perfectly placed to tell a powerful story. The call and response of Why We Build A Wall is haunting. It resonates with audiences today who readily feel the chill of the far right encroaching on our eroding society. The staging and the dramaturgy intertwine exquisitely with the story. When Eurydice joins her nameless co-workers, we witness the colour drain from her person. Together, in the land where the sun never rises, they strive to build a Sisyphean wall which promises freedom tomorrow. Their wilful blindness, matched by our uneasy cognitive dissonance, contrasts the incongruous aesthetic of labour with the misery it delivers unto Hades’ workers. The effect is Brechtian. We stare in on ourselves. Who amongst us awakens?

Hadestown is a truly remarkable production by Mitchell and Chavkin. 20 years in the making and not a note out of place. The loose tethering of the play to this particular period of New Orleans charges it with a spirit reminding each of us that the years since are not as long as we might’ve thought. The triple revolving stage at the Lyric Theatre is expertly deployed to manifest indelible scenes: the arrival of Persephone on a train, the manifestation of an industrial production line of workers, and counter movement served up as opposition. As in the myth, Orpheus has just one means of escape: to lead the way from Hadestown with Eurydice silently following. If he turns…just once…to reaffirm himself of her presence, she will fall back from whence she came: down into Hadestown for ever. Chavkin raises the tension here by letting The Fates loose one last time. Repeatedly they fade, reappear and feed on Orpheus’s doubt. It is a stunning piece of theatre placing the audience in Orpheus’s head where even we doubt the presence of Eurydice. The cast are unsurpassable. Rache Adedeji’s Persephone encompasses the seasons whether it’s winter or spring. Alastair Parker’s stunning Hades is the worst manifestation of a villain: a reasonable one with a baritone like an earthquake. Bethany Antonia and Marley Fenton are the perfect foils for Eurydice and Orpheus: sweet, loyal and inevitable victims of circumstance. And Hermes? Well, he may reasonably find himself cast as an understudy to Clive Rowe, so total the performance. The workers are mesmeric…and The Fates are fierce.

Hadestown is indeed a sad song. They’re going to sing it again. Be there when they do!

Hadestown continues its run at The Lyric Theatre, London.