My first Greek tragedy

Medea, The Scoop, 22/08/2009

Euripides’ tragedy is a chilling parable of a life lived in the public eye, immaculately staged and performed with bloody verve by a skilful cast.

First of all, there is a good reason this play is still regularly performed two and a half millennia after it was first written. The characters are strong, the plot races along (as it must do when the audience is perched on concrete steps), and there is a satisfying amount of blood and guts. The language (in a version by Stella Duffy) is direct and meaty, and the description of Princess Glauce’s death is gruesomely evocative.

The most compelling part is the series of press conferences towards the beginning of the play. The wronged Medea stands at the podium before an eager chorus of journalists, making her case to the public. She is succeeded by her supercilious husband Jason, and the powerful, uncaring King Creon, who in turn sway the fawning journalists to their cause. The staging turns the play into an ancient Pete and Jordan in extremis. The inclusion of Medea and Jason’s angelic children – who do not normally appear – makes the violence of Medea’s revenge even more immediate.

The performances are in general strong. The Steam Industry group of players have form in Greek drama, and do fairly well here. Siobhan O’Kelly is smart, Scottish and spiky as Medea, whilst Joe Fredericks’ Jason is an unflattering Blair. Both, though, cannot quite make the transition to maddened despair. Fredericks in particular gets caught in this emotional transition, and ends up in anodyne histrionics (though in fairness, he has only few lines in which to effect this emotional switch). It matters little; by this point in the play, the mechanics of tragedy have taken over – characterization matters less when Fate takes control, and the extremity of the actions leaves little room for acting subtlety.

One final note. The Scoop is an outdoor amphitheatre, and the performance is free. I should like to be bohemian and enthuse about the democratic spirit and how theatre is supposed to be. In truth, it was a little annoying. There are an awful lot of places in London where chatting is actively encouraged. Watching a play (and when sitting behind me) is not one of them. That these distractions (and the occasional microphone glitch) did not detract from the evening is a tribute to the power of the story.