A wholesale re-telling of Euripides’ tragedy from the boys’ perspective.
The inclusion of voices, the oppressed, the unheard… it all sounds like a good thing. And I think it is, so long as not part of an ideological project to exclude other voices. Given that this theatre puts itself forward as self-consciously progressive, I feared the worst: not art, but preaching.
“This may not have been Euripides’ play, but it will add emotional depth to any future reading or viewing of it. ”
Happily, not every inclusive work has to be ideological. The first work of inclusive revision (at least as far as I know) was Ovid’s “Heroides”, a re-writing of myth from the perspective of jilted females, written around the time of Christ. This Medea was in the tradition of Ovid. These were real characters, really fitting into Euripides’ framework, which it was more or less presumed one knew. The characters were respected, and so was the audience.
It all takes place in the boys’ upstairs bedroom. Jason, their father, never appears. There’s no chorus either. It’s not pretending to be Greek. In fact, it hardly could, in a tiny, flexible space with 75 seats. It’s just two brothers playing and being kids, trying to deal with the destruction of their family, very much as children. I was beginning to wonder if their mother, Medea, would ever appear; although she would of course have to, and she did.
This is the third Medea production that I have seen in 12 months in London (National, Fall 2014; Almeida, Summer 2015). It’s the first at which I was profoundly upset by her murder of her children, which would traditionally take place off stage. This may not have been Euripides’ play, but it will add emotional depth to any future reading or viewing of it. As one would expect, she kills her children, when they are to be taken from her, rather than lose them to her Ex’s new woman. I could feel that here.
Reviews: