The Musical Medea – Upstairs at the Gatehouse

The Musical Medea was reviewed at Upstairs at the Gatehouse, London.

Star rating: four stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

Right, we’re all well-versed in this genre enough to not balk at the show title The Musical Medea, right? Musical theatre isn’t just high kicks and jazz hands: there is ample room in this genre for even the most horrific of Ancient Greek tragedies. With this outing of Euripides’ most viscerally shocking play, Costas Hassabis (book, music, lyrics) has leaned into the relatively recent past of the fantastic Upstairs at the Gatehouse (this auditorium was formerly a 1960s folk club that hosted Paul Simon, amongst others) and created something quite special.

The show is presented as a 60s open mic night at a folk club called ‘The Argo’ (after Jason’s famous ship). Initially, proceedings have an air of Once with various performers taking centre stage to serenade us with Bob Dylan and Jim Croce classics. However, as soon as Flo Lunnon enters, the atmosphere shifts. Cast members seem hypnotised by her gorgeous flute playing and a tension permeates the air. Tara Noonan’s directorial choices remain exemplary throughout, as this small cast of sublimely-talented actor-musicians takes us through a new version of Medea’s tale.

The Musical Medea is a story told in two acts, with the second matching up with the events portrayed in Euripides’ famous play. Act I covers the back story: events of Medea’s past that were originally relayed through expositional dialogue or simply assumed to be common knowledge for an Ancient Athenian audience.

Medea is a princess of the minor city state of Colchis who is swept off her feet by the charismatic adventurer Jason (he of ‘and the Argonauts’ fame). After sacrificing a great deal to be with him and help in his quests, Medea is betrayed when Jason sees an opportunity to gain greater power by dumping her to marry Glauce – a princess of the more powerful city state of Corinth. Incandescent with rage at the injustice, Medea takes her revenge.

If that summary seems a bit vague on the details, it isn’t to protect you from spoilers (this story is two and a half millennia old, after all), it is because The Musical Medea chooses to introduce some ambiguity into the plot. While references are made to her sacrifices, the audience are not told of the gory specifics. Likewise, at the play’s climax, Medea assures Jason that their children are safe and well, with only the distraught performance of Lunnon hinting at the brutal end to Euripides’ tale.

This move away from the difficult subject matter of the original story results in an interesting play. On the one hand, Medea becomes a much more straightforwardly sympathetic and relatable character. On the other, we lose a lot of the irresistible moral complexity that have kept human beings returning to this tale for centuries. The audience’s moment of catharsis comes with Jason’s ignominious end as his crumbling ship crushes him – a canon event in Greek mythology, but a relatively uncomplicated and unsatisfying bit of revenge.

Though the plot may be rendered slightly less compelling here, the show itself is at least solidly entertaining. Hassabis’ music is fantastic. The score swings from sensitive acoustic ballads to harder-hitting numbers while remaining true to the 1960s folk-rock idiom. Musical director Thomas Arnold’s arrangements complement the music perfectly and it is a credit to the superb cast that the songs sound spectacular even as actors move around the stage with their instruments and even engage in some fairly active choreography.

Lunnon delivers a masterful performance in the title role, commanding the stage for much of the run time and becoming a genuinely intimidating presence as Medea descends into the darkness of her anger. The character’s witchiness is beautifully captured in her ethereal flute playing, her Kate Bush dance moves, and the details of her costume. Her tour de force performance is matched ably by the rakishly charismatic Alistair Higgins as Jason. A highlight of the show sees them both at the piano, singing a love duet that hints at the growing issues in their relationship.

Elsewhere, Felix Gillingwater is an audience favourite as the larger-than-life Athenian king Aegeus, while Caoimhe de Brún brings boundless energy and gorgeous violin-playing as Medea’s sister Chalciope. Gracie Lai proves herself to be a musical polymath – excelling on multiple instruments while also bringing a light touch of comedy to some otherwise dark scenes in her role as Housekeeper. Jon Bonner treats us to some fine guitar playing while delivering genuine authority as King Creon of Corinth, and Thomas Fabian Parrish makes for the perfect host, charmingly inviting us into the performance space and setting the tone for the show.

The Musical Medea is a fantastic night out at the theatre. Perhaps not the most viscerally compelling interpretations of this ancient myth, but without question one of the most straightforwardly enjoyable. With superb songs, cast and direction, I can’t wait to see where this show goes next. The Camden Fringe is often a launchpad for bigger things, and this is a show with the potential and intention to entertain many many more. A sugary flower-power yet beguiling update to a grisly classic.

Ian Bowkett