Theatre Review- Rachel Cusk's Medea
Cusk's modernised adaptation of Euripides' Medea was as tempestuous as the classic original, whilst being excruciatingly relatable, exemplified when Kate Fleetwood's Medea bellows of how Jason has deformed her through childbirth, while he stayed the same - a deprecation most mother's feel (at one point she exposes her stomach and prods it with revulsion).
Moreover, the chorus of middle-class playground mothers offered a unique twist. However, their bitterness towards Medea contrasted with the play's primary chorus, one that supported our antiheroine the majority of the time.
Furthermore, one can't help but question the lack of diversity within the production, especially for the epoch it is representing: all characters, bar one, are portrayed as white, middle-class and this simply reinforces a lack of sympathy for Medea's plight, she has a privileged position and an entitled life. Yet, you can't help but feel sorry for the scorned wife, as she breaks the fourth wall and fiercely demands why we are watching her, it is evident her life is spirally out of control.
Analogously, the set is bare and clinical, denoting Medea's loneliness and isolation, while the sink in the far right compares to that of a mortuary table, foreshadowing the callous plot. Similarly, the stair bannisters are removed to create a hole in the stage, which the children descend, as though walking into the mouth of hell and the barren landscape exposed as the backdrop, slowly develops into an intense red as the play crescendos. This ultimately offers a visual representation of the drama's tragic denouement.
The representation of Aegeus as a gay man, unable to conceive naturally, was a brilliant contemporary portrayal, yet Cusk revolves it again by revealing the true baby he wishes to bear is not a human, but a novel and this creative theme threads throughout the plot, even when it comes to Medea's revenge and the script she composes - a commemoration to the power of art, which was just as important to the Ancient Greeks, as it is today.
Additionally, rather than set on fire by a garment gifted by Medea, Creon's daughter is the victim of a brutal acid attack, the worst fate for the beauty (the only mentions of her within the script, was when other characters would comment on her physicality, which, one can conclude, foreshadows her fate).
Conversely, the ending was vexatious, the notion that Medea's two young boys may or may not have died is not only excruciating, but the fact that it was by their own hands and Medea was not actively involved in their death, could possibly have been a step too far from the original script.
Moreover, the chorus of middle-class playground mothers offered a unique twist. However, their bitterness towards Medea contrasted with the play's primary chorus, one that supported our antiheroine the majority of the time.
Furthermore, one can't help but question the lack of diversity within the production, especially for the epoch it is representing: all characters, bar one, are portrayed as white, middle-class and this simply reinforces a lack of sympathy for Medea's plight, she has a privileged position and an entitled life. Yet, you can't help but feel sorry for the scorned wife, as she breaks the fourth wall and fiercely demands why we are watching her, it is evident her life is spirally out of control.
Analogously, the set is bare and clinical, denoting Medea's loneliness and isolation, while the sink in the far right compares to that of a mortuary table, foreshadowing the callous plot. Similarly, the stair bannisters are removed to create a hole in the stage, which the children descend, as though walking into the mouth of hell and the barren landscape exposed as the backdrop, slowly develops into an intense red as the play crescendos. This ultimately offers a visual representation of the drama's tragic denouement.
The representation of Aegeus as a gay man, unable to conceive naturally, was a brilliant contemporary portrayal, yet Cusk revolves it again by revealing the true baby he wishes to bear is not a human, but a novel and this creative theme threads throughout the plot, even when it comes to Medea's revenge and the script she composes - a commemoration to the power of art, which was just as important to the Ancient Greeks, as it is today.
Additionally, rather than set on fire by a garment gifted by Medea, Creon's daughter is the victim of a brutal acid attack, the worst fate for the beauty (the only mentions of her within the script, was when other characters would comment on her physicality, which, one can conclude, foreshadows her fate).
Conversely, the ending was vexatious, the notion that Medea's two young boys may or may not have died is not only excruciating, but the fact that it was by their own hands and Medea was not actively involved in their death, could possibly have been a step too far from the original script.
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