Medea                      

Author: Adapted from Euripides by Dhyan Ruparel
Director: Dhyan Ruparel
Produced by: CUADC
Venue: ADC Theatre Cambridge
Performance: 5 May 2026
Photos: Anna Gungaloo

Having recently read the book Medea (Rosie Hewlett) I was keen to see this play. This adaptation focuses on the final part of the story, as Medea’s life unravels when her husband Jason (of Argonauts fame) leaves her for the young Princess of Corinth, where they are living in exile.

This is a clever and compelling interpretation. Medea spirals from grief into rage and ultimately to devastating revenge, supported by her nurse (Indira Mehta) and observed and judged by four women of Corinth, who move around the stage narrating with their thoughts. The decision to cast a BAME ensemble keeps Medea’s “otherness” front and centre: she is both a woman in a patriarchal world and a foreigner, doubly marginalised.

There are no spoilers here, as lines from the film version are projected across the curtain at the start in multiple languages. We know Medea has already committed unthinkable acts. What this play explores is not what she does, but why, and leaves the audience to wrestle with how to judge her.

Mina Strevens is exceptional in the title role (recently seen in The Great Gatsby), delivering a performance of striking emotional intensity. Whether simmering with cold fury, collapsing into anguish, or radiating quiet devastation, she commands the stage and holds the audience throughout. Opposite her, Will Atiomo’s Jason is a smooth-talking opportunist, charming on the surface, yet transparently self-serving as he attempts to justify his betrayal as a step towards a better future for Medea as well as himself, and his sons, who remain unseen.

Rob Monteiro’s King Creon is suitably authoritative and imposing, while Zubin Burley’s King Aegeus brings a quieter, more measured presence, offering refuge tinged with hesitation.

The emotional core of the play lies in Medea’s calculated deception: she convinces Jason of her acceptance while secretly orchestrating the total destruction of everything he values, including their sons. In doing so, she not only annihilates his world but her own, making the tragedy all the more harrowing.

The set is simple yet effective: a crumbling mansion with a raised central podium that serves as Medea’s focal point, encircled by the women of Corinth. Steps at the front create additional playing space, while the open, exposed nature of the home subtly reinforces Medea’s lack of safety and control. Costuming draws an interesting contrast with men in modern suits, women in flowing, Grecian-inspired white, though a few wardrobe issues, particularly for Medea, are distracting. By the final moments, however, her blood-spattered appearance is both visually arresting and deeply affecting.

The score is a standout element. Beginning with jazzy undertones before shifting into darker, more solemn moods, it mirrors the emotional trajectory of the play beautifully. The inclusion of instruments such as the sitar adds texture and depth, creating a rich, atmospheric soundscape.

However, the production is slightly undermined by a handful of first-night technical hitches. A stray phone tone over the sound system disrupted the action (though handled professionally on stage), and the lack of a clear blackout at the end of Act One leaves both audience and performers momentarily uncertain about the interval.

Despite these issues, this is a strong and thought-provoking piece of theatre. The adaptation successfully draws out modern resonances from an ancient text, making it accessible and impactful for audiences unfamiliar with the original myth. Well-acted, intelligently staged, and emotionally engaging, it is a production that lingers.