That’s not so much the snake bite of yore as it is the snake charmer at work. Orpheus may be the Eddie Van Halen of Thracian musicians, but he can’t hold a candle to the suave, urbane, and ingratiating Hades when the latter offers Eurydice a little more security if she accepts his job offer and resides in his domain. That won’t put bread on the table or a roof over our heads. In short, How are you going to support me, Orpheus? All you have are unfinished songs. Eurydice, for her part, is more waif than nymph, a streetwise kid, possibly homeless, certainly nomadic, who’s already been down the boulevards of disappointment. He encounters Eurydice and within half-a-minute is asking to take her home and one minute later is talking marriage. Orpheus, the singer-songwriter who could charm animals with his lyre, is something of a big, naive puppy, a bit like Jethro Bodine of “The Beverly Hillbillies,” in that he’s idealistic, a bit slow on the uptake, and somewhat oblivious to reality. Summer’s nice, but an endless summer would be the death of us. The play’s Persephone is a little more restless and rebellious than the myth implies, but I don’t know if anyone points out that if she didn’t spend half of the year in Hades, with Hades, the planet would dry up. That’s why, when she’s below ground, we have autumn and winter, and when she’s back in the sunshine we have spring and winter. Persephone, abducted by Hades from the Earth’s surface, was consigned to spend half the year there. “Hadestown” toggles between these two couples and convincingly interweaves their stories. In Greek mythology, brothers Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades divided up the planet, and Hades became Lord of the Underworld, not to be confused with Satan or Lucifer. Hades (Kevyn Morrow) presides over the action from his Bourbon Street balcony, with wife Persephone (Kimberly Marable) at his side. He fills in the blanks, tells us who’s who and what’s what when the story itself, which gives equal billing to Hades and Persephone, gets a bit loose at the seams. Paul Getty MuseumHermes (Levi Kreis) is our narrator and emcee his winces and gesticulations may have you thinking he’s been watching old clips of Joe Cocker and Tom Waits. As Bob Dylan said, “Don’t look back.” Los Angeles, the J. Upper left, side by side, Hades and Persephone along the left margin are the three Fates with a hopeful Orpheus leading away Eurydice. “Orpheus and Eurydice” (c.1718-20), by Jean Raoux. It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game (but try saying that to the bereaved). “Hadestown,” of course, can’t end there, and so there’s a coda that raises a glass to his failed effort. Even this reviewer has openly wept and pulled out his hair at performances of “Madama Butterfly.” And so, just as the ship goes down in every version of “Titanic,” down goes Eurydice when Orpheus turns around ahead of schedule. Musicals, however, rarely if ever end on the downbeat, whereas with opera not only is a prolonged demise expected, but often the tenor or soprano will rise up from their deathbed to sing one last aria. Orpheus (Nicholas Barasch) will win and then lose his Eurydice (Morgan Siobhan Green), and after a heroic effort lose her yet again. Liberties are taken, in this chronicle of a death foretold. Now it’s on the move, at the Ahmanson through May and later this summer in Costa Mesa. She composed the lively music, wrote the lyrics, crafted the book, and in 2019 “Hadestown” garnered 14 Tony nominations, winning eight, including those for Best Musical and Best Original score. This unconventional re-spinning of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth by Anaïs Mitchell began brewing in 2006. Right away, ah, there’s a welcoming allure, but one years in the making. Tony Award-winner “Hadestown” at the AhmansonĪs the house lights dim and the stage lights emerge, we seem to be in a Depression-era New Orleans honkytonk saloon.
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