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| Medea review – Carrie Cracknell's version is a tragic force to be reckoned with | |
| (about 21 hours later) | |
| After her success with Ibsen's A Doll's House, Carrie Cracknell now turns her directorial attention to an even more wronged heroine: Euripides' Medea, who avenges herself on Jason by murdering their two children. The virtue of this production and Ben Power's new version is that they avoid quasi-operatic grandeur to present us with a recognisable human being who is alive with contradictions. | After her success with Ibsen's A Doll's House, Carrie Cracknell now turns her directorial attention to an even more wronged heroine: Euripides' Medea, who avenges herself on Jason by murdering their two children. The virtue of this production and Ben Power's new version is that they avoid quasi-operatic grandeur to present us with a recognisable human being who is alive with contradictions. |
| You sense this from the start in Helen McCrory's stunning modern-dress Medea. We first hear her offstage howls at Jason's abandonment of her so that he can marry a Corinthian princess. Our first sighting of McCrory, however, is of a woman in singlet and dungarees emerging from her closet, cleaning her teeth. The complex portrait that emerges is of a Medea who is both rational and irrational, in the grip of a vengeful idée fixe and yet open to maternal feeling. | You sense this from the start in Helen McCrory's stunning modern-dress Medea. We first hear her offstage howls at Jason's abandonment of her so that he can marry a Corinthian princess. Our first sighting of McCrory, however, is of a woman in singlet and dungarees emerging from her closet, cleaning her teeth. The complex portrait that emerges is of a Medea who is both rational and irrational, in the grip of a vengeful idée fixe and yet open to maternal feeling. |
| "My heart is wrenched in two," McCrory announces at one point; and throughout, her Medea switches, with brilliant volatility, from the manipulative to the murderous to the unpredictably humane. | "My heart is wrenched in two," McCrory announces at one point; and throughout, her Medea switches, with brilliant volatility, from the manipulative to the murderous to the unpredictably humane. |
| It is a reading that prevents the play from being a simplistic apologia for an abused woman. Michaela Coel's Nurse, in her opening speech, describes Jason as "a demon, a he-devil"; in Danny Sapani's performance, however, he is less an obvious ogre than a politician who uses sophistry to justify his abandonment of Medea. | It is a reading that prevents the play from being a simplistic apologia for an abused woman. Michaela Coel's Nurse, in her opening speech, describes Jason as "a demon, a he-devil"; in Danny Sapani's performance, however, he is less an obvious ogre than a politician who uses sophistry to justify his abandonment of Medea. |
| The point is also clearly made that the play is as much his tragedy as hers, so that when Medea tells Jason "we are as wretched as each other", it is true. The production's moral ambivalence extends to the Athenian king, Aegeus, who offers Medea sanctuary: as played by Dominic Rowan, he is both a benign altruist and a cautious diplomat anxious not to offend the Corinthian ruling class. | The point is also clearly made that the play is as much his tragedy as hers, so that when Medea tells Jason "we are as wretched as each other", it is true. The production's moral ambivalence extends to the Athenian king, Aegeus, who offers Medea sanctuary: as played by Dominic Rowan, he is both a benign altruist and a cautious diplomat anxious not to offend the Corinthian ruling class. |
| For all its psychological astuteness, the production has one or two oddities. Tom Scutt's split-level set, with a Corinthian palace above and a dark forest below, seems too palpably symbolic of the play's division between public and private worlds. And the Chorus, as choreographed by Lucy Guerin, move strangely from being straitlaced women in print frocks to quivering members of a seemingly avant-garde dance troupe. | For all its psychological astuteness, the production has one or two oddities. Tom Scutt's split-level set, with a Corinthian palace above and a dark forest below, seems too palpably symbolic of the play's division between public and private worlds. And the Chorus, as choreographed by Lucy Guerin, move strangely from being straitlaced women in print frocks to quivering members of a seemingly avant-garde dance troupe. |
| But the play's tragic force emerges strongly and the production's climax seems better suited to modern tastes than Euripides' original. Without giving the game away, we no longer see Medea borne away in a chariot provided by the sun god but making an exit that is profoundly pitiable and perfectly in tune with the insane contradictions of her character. | But the play's tragic force emerges strongly and the production's climax seems better suited to modern tastes than Euripides' original. Without giving the game away, we no longer see Medea borne away in a chariot provided by the sun god but making an exit that is profoundly pitiable and perfectly in tune with the insane contradictions of her character. |
| • Until 4 September. Box office: 020-7452 3000. Venue: National Theatre, London. | • Until 4 September. Box office: 020-7452 3000. Venue: National Theatre, London. |