Hadestown: Teen Edition

Between The Bars Theatre Company.

Directed by Cat Nicol

Musical Director: Sam Kirby

Movement Director: Frances Sayer

The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is an ancient literary stalwart, committed to Latin verse by Ovid and Virgil —a story of love almost triumphant, of faith almost sufficient, of a man who cannot help but fail the woman he adores. Anaïs Mitchell’s Hadestown, in this remarkable Teen Edition, strips that ancient wound bare and salts it with New Orleans jazz, Depression-era folk, and a political resonance that is wholly contemporary.

Let me be clear from the outset: this production is exceptional, all the more so for being performed by young amateurs. Wholly absorbing, it’s the first musical since Operation Mincemeat that has literally made me gasp.

The show’s central thesis—that men let down their women, even when they desperately wish not to—runs through both its parallel love stories. Orpheus fails Eurydice through his doubt; Hades fails Persephone through his possessiveness. Neither can trust.

The choreography and dancing throughout is nothing short of astonishing—fluid, purposeful, and perfectly integrated with the storytelling. Equally impressive is the live music, which grounds the production in an authenticity that recorded tracks could never achieve. The band becomes another character, breathing with the performers, responding to the emotional temperature of each scene.

Among a uniformly strong cast, four performances demand particular recognition. Naomi Mallabone’s Persephone is a revelation—her labile, expressive face communicates volumes in the spaces between lyrics, shifting from warmth to sorrow to sardonic wit with mercurial ease. She makes the goddess of spring feel genuinely divine and genuinely human simultaneously.

Elin Gregory brings a lithe alertness to Eurydice that perfectly captures the character’s hunger and wariness. This is a young woman who has known hardship, who wants to believe in Orpheus’s dreams but cannot quite afford such luxury. Gregory navigates that tension beautifully, making Eurydice’s fateful choice feel both heartbreaking and inevitable.

Charlie Dawes offers an Orpheus who is baby-faced and romantic, all yearning and artistic conviction. His voice carries that essential quality of innocence that the role demands—we must believe that this young man genuinely thinks love will be enough, that beauty can defeat the machinery of the underworld. Dawes makes us believe it too, even as we know better.

But the evening belongs, ultimately, to Laurie Jones as Hades. This is extraordinary work. Jones’s devil—for that is what Hades essentially is here—carries an unmistakable whiff of contemporary authoritarianism, a Trump-like figure wielding power with casual cruelty and seductive charm. And yes, as the saying goes, the devil has the best tunes. Jones commands every moment, making Hades simultaneously terrifying and charismatic, a villain we cannot quite bring ourselves to hate entirely because he is so magnificently watchable.

Hadestown reminds us why we keep telling these old stories: because they remain true, because the struggles they depict never quite resolve themselves, because hope—however battered—persists. This production honours that tradition magnificently. Astonishing work.

Photo credits: Paul Ashley