National Theatre
22nd December, 2018, matinee
‘The wall keeps out the enemy,
And we build the wall to keep us free’
As a child my dad would often read to me from an illustrated book of Greek Myths (retold and illustrated by Marcia Williams). I can still picture the often gruesome (to a six year old) illustrations of writhing snakes and gored bodies, yet these stories were amongst the most enchanting I encountered – my favourites were the stories of Icarus, Perseus and Medusa, and Theseus and the Minotaur. Tales of warring Gods, fantastical creatures, brave mortals and the contrasts of poverty and sumptuousness make for rich imaginings, but it’s the allegorical nature of these age-old myths that endure the tellings and retellings.
This theme resonates throughout Anaïs Mitchell’s Hadestown, a
modern take on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. From the original concept album,
to concerts, to this theatrical version, Mitchell’s piece is an excellent
example of folk oral traditions, exemplifying the evolution of abiding stories
and the reshaping of them to fit the times in which we live. I came to director
Rachel Chavkin’s production of Hadestown with
fresh eyes, but audience members around us were evidently fans of Mitchell’s
work and ardently discussed the changes brought in this version during the
interval. As with McPherson and Dylan’s Girl From The North
Country, Mitchell and Chavkin celebrate the universality of folk music,
which seems a natural fit with the enduring and adaptable character of the
Greek Myths.
Onto the musical itself. In brief, Hadestown presents
the story of the unearthly talented musician, Orpheus (Reeve Carney), who falls
in love with the poverty-stricken Eurydice (Eva Noblezada). Meanwhile, Gods and
lovers of the underworld, Hades (Patrick Page) and Persephone (Amber Grey), are
having the mother of all fights, Hades resentful of Persephone’s summertime jaunts
in the world of the living. A cold and harsh wintertime ensues. Feeling
neglected due to Orpheus’ obsessive search for the perfect song to bring
springtime back, Eurydice is lured into the subterranean industrial sweat-shop
of Hadestown by the devilish God’s promise of ‘freedom’ and wellbeing. On
hearing that his love has unwittingly sold her soul for a life of endless
labour, Orpheus descends into the netherworld on a rescue mission.
Set between a New Orleans-style jazz
club and the fiery pits of Hadestown, Mitchell has (to forge another theatrical
comparison) done for the Greek Myths what Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice did
for the Bible with their rock opera Jesus Christ
Superstar; combining modernity and lore to make that stuffy literature once
studied at school seem relevant and cool again. Mitchell treats us to lyrical
odes (‘Anyway the Wind Blows’, ‘Epic’), anthemic torch songs (Wait For Me) and
bombastic jazz funk (‘Way Down Hadestown’, ‘Road To Hell’, ‘Our Lady of the
Underground’); musical indulgences that are a pleasure to listen to both in and
out of the theatre. But nowhere is theme and format so pertinently unified than
in Hades’ work anthem ‘Why We Build The Wall’. Utilising the question/answer
refrain of many a folk song, Mitchell shines a light on dubious philosophical
and moral diktats. The repetition and simple melody in the song creates a
familiarity synonymous with folk while echoing the beating political heart of
singers such as Bob Dylan (there are definite tones of ‘The Times They Are
A-Changing’ and ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ to name a couple). Comparisons with the
isolated ‘freedom’ won by denying ‘outsiders’, an ethos championed by Donald
Trump in the US and Brexiteers here, is undeniable. The fact that Mitchell’s
folk song feels ingrained within our memories even when hearing it for the
first time is a powerful statement that resonates with the moral
socio-political allegories found in fables, myths and fairytales. Yes, it’s
ambitious and Mitchell packs a lot into what is essentially a tale of
star-crossed lovers, but each element is thrilling in its own right and
together they create a lavish feast of a show in Chavkin’s hands.
Reflecting the laid-back jazz-club tone
of the piece, Rachel Hauck’s set is an atmospheric concoction of spindly spiral
staircases and balconies, reminiscent of the streets of New Orleans. The
visible band become part of a living and breathing set, each adding character
to the scant backdrop. Upon this stage we are greeted with suave showmanship by André
De Shields’ narrator (and messenger to the Gods), Hermes. He introduces us
to the musicians in a concert-like call out, a nice touch which adds flare to
the already stylish proceedings. The phlegmatic feel of the first act gives way
to the mechanical furnace of Hadestown in the second act. Hauck’s set rotates
and sinks, illuminated by Bradley King’s bruising lighting, emitting a sense of
the cavernous, sweaty pit into which Eurydice descends. Details such as these
prevent Chavkin’s production from feeling like a semi-staged concert – we are
engulfed by Hades’ world and the cast’s impassioned performances ensure we are
deeply invested in the fates of the heroes. Despite knowing how the original
myth ends, I was on tenterhooks, hoping for an alternate conclusion.
Mitchell has instigated something special, and I hope, and
expect, Hadestown to
evolve further throughout the years, as each new version creates its own
musical and mythological traditions. ‘If it was never new, and it never gets
old, then it’s a folk song’ – The Coen Brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis expressed
the sentiment perfectly, and this quote sprang to mind when, post-curtain call,
Persephone implores the audience to raise a cup and ‘spill a drop for Orpheus’.
The song lives on, carried by those that hear it.
Hadestown plays
at the National Theatre until 26th January, 2019. The
production transfers to the Walter Kerr theatre, New York, from 17th April
2019.
The company of Hadestown. Credit: Helen Maybanks |
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