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Hadestown at the Lyric Theatre, Part 2 of 3: A Missed Opportunity for Contrast


This is the second in a three-part series of highly subjective, opinionated and personal reflections of your faithful bee on the musical Hadestown. This critique is not aimed at the production, the actors, or the musical score—all of which were beautifully executed—but rather at the core storytelling elements that, unfortunately, did not resonate with the bee. Spoilers abound.


About Hadestown: Hadestown is a Tony Award-winning musical that reimagines the ancient Greek myths of Orpheus and Eurydice, as well as Hades and Persephone. The story follows Orpheus, a gifted musician, as he journeys into the underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Through its blend of folk, jazz, and blues, the musical explores themes of love, power, and the struggle for freedom in a world that feels increasingly oppressive. But beyond its mythological roots, Hadestown also serves as a modern allegory, reflecting on the dynamics of labor, industry, and society.

 

Hadestown cast on stage at Lyric Theatre
Hadestown cast on stage at Lyric Theatre. Photo credit: Marc Brenner


Hadestown positions itself as more than just a retelling of ancient myths—it seeks to provide a modern commentary on power, oppression, and the struggles of the working class. The underworld is depicted as a mechanized, dystopian society, where hard labor is the fate of those trapped within. While this portrayal is effective in its clarity, it also feels somewhat predictable, particularly for those who approach the show with a blank slate, unburdened by preconceived notions of what to expect. In some ways, Hadestown succeeds in its social commentary, but in others, it falls short of making a truly lasting impression.


The Industrial Dystopia: Effective Yet Predictable


One of the most prominent themes in Hadestown is the depiction of the underworld as a bleak, industrial dystopia. This is a world where Hades reigns supreme, his kingdom fueled by the ceaseless toil of its inhabitants. The imagery is striking—an endless factory line of souls condemned to labor, a ruler who demands productivity above all else, and a society where love and art are crushed under the weight of machinery and routine.


This depiction resonates on a fundamental level, tapping into familiar narratives of industrialization, exploitation, and the dehumanizing effects of unbridled capitalism. However, the effectiveness of this theme is also its limitation. For a modern audience, the connection between punishment and hard labor is almost intuitive. Throughout history, forced labor has been a common punishment for the incarcerated, making the underworld’s mechanized oppression feel less like a novel interpretation and more like a default setting.


Without a clear contrast between the world above and the world below, the underworld’s supposed horrors lose some of their impact. Eurydice’s decision to accept Hades’ offer and enter the underworld comes across as almost too easy, too rational, because the world she’s leaving behind isn’t portrayed as significantly better. The outside world, as shown in the musical, is just as bleak, cruel, and unforgiving as the underworld. This lack of distinction diminishes the intended shock value of Hadestown’s industrial dystopia. If both worlds are equally oppressive, the audience is left questioning the stakes: What, then, makes Hadestown so much worse?


The Empty Promise of Love: A Romance That Rings Hollow


In the midst of this bleak industrial setting, Hadestown presents the love story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Yet, this romance, rather than serving as a beacon of hope, feels hollow and unconvincing. Orpheus’s love for Eurydice is depicted as immediate and all-consuming—a classic case of love at first sight. But this narrative trope, already tired in many stories, feels particularly out of place in Hadestown’s harsh world.


For a relationship to truly anchor a story, it must be built on more than just a single glance or a fleeting feeling. The audience needs to see the trials, the growth, the mutual understanding that turns affection into something enduring. Yet, Hadestown glosses over these crucial elements. Orpheus professes his undying love for Eurydice without knowing much about her, and certainly without having faced the realities of a relationship. There’s no exploration of their shared dreams, no understanding of their fears, no grappling with the inevitable challenges that come with any deep connection.


This lack of depth in their relationship makes Eurydice’s decision to leave—and Orpheus’s decision to follow—feel unearned. Is it really surprising that Eurydice isn’t moved enough by Orpheus to stay? After all, what does she stand to lose? A love that has yet to prove itself? The promise of songs that, while beautiful, don’t fill her stomach or warm her at night? The musical doesn’t do enough to convince us that Orpheus’s love is something worth sacrificing for.


Moreover, Orpheus’s determination to rescue Eurydice, despite knowing nothing of why she left, feels misguided. He doesn’t question why she abandoned him, doesn’t reflect on whether his love was enough, or whether he was, in some way, responsible for her departure. This absence of self-doubt or introspection in Orpheus’s character only adds to the sense that his love is more fantasy than reality—a storybook romance in a world that demands something more.


A Missed Opportunity for Contrast


The failure to differentiate between the oppressive nature of Hadestown and the world above is, perhaps, the musical’s greatest misstep. In a story where the underworld is meant to symbolize the ultimate loss of freedom and hope, the outside world should represent at least the possibility of something better. But in Hadestown, the world that Eurydice leaves behind is so grim that her choice to enter the underworld feels less like a tragic fall and more like a lateral move. This robs the story of its emotional stakes and leaves the audience wondering what, if anything, was truly lost.


Ultimately, Hadestown succeeds in creating a vivid picture of industrial oppression, but it does so at the expense of its other themes. The love story, which should serve as the heart of the narrative, falls flat, and the lack of contrast between the worlds above and below diminishes the impact of the political and social commentary. What could have been a powerful exploration of love, sacrifice, and the human condition instead feels like a series of missed opportunities, where the most prominent theme—the dystopia of Hadestown—overpowers and ultimately obscures the deeper emotional and philosophical questions that the story could have explored.

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