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All your favorite Greeks are heading somewhere in "Hadestown", the sumptuous, hypnotic and somewhat hyperactive musical that began Wednesday night after her own thirteen-year-old winding road to Broadway.
Eurydice descends to hell; Orpheus follows to recover. Persephone spends six months on the surface of the earth, living the beautiful summer life and singing before returning six months later with Hades. (It's her husband.) Hermes, of course, has wings on his feet. And Fates (at least in this version) are jostling each other, mocking each other's business.
But watching "Hadestown" unfold so lavishly at the Walter Kerr Theater, I found myself thinking of other Greek characters: those lucky few saved from grief by radical metamorphoses.
This is because "Hadestown" – written by Anais Mitchell, developed and directed by Rachel Chavkin – has itself been radically transformed. What's on the Kerr scene is almost unrecognizable different from the version I saw at the New York Theater Workshop in 2016. There, it was distorted and valuable, too cool for its own good, not to mention Broadway.
All this has been done with barely a change in the plot, which intelligently graft his two myths into one. According to Ms. Mitchell, Eurydice (Eva Noblezada) is in hell because of the freeze and famine that ensues when Persephone (Amber Gray) returns to Hades his annual conjugal visit. (Classically, Eurydice has just died from a snake bite.) And as Hades (Patrick Page) has something to do with Eurydice, it is the jealous Persephone that convinces him to let Orpheus (Reeve Carney) take it back.
Even Hermes, who does not really belong to any of these stories, was recruited to tell, contextualize and kibitz. And why not, if it gives the great Andre De Shields has a chance to slip in silver shark skin? He is the one who tells us – in what is now correctly, the opening number – that we are about to hear is "a sad song," no matter how it sounds. Also he will "sing anyway".
This is a fairly good summary of the original myths, but Ms. Mitchell, fascinated by these since her childhood, pushed them further by broadening the topic from the song cycle to the concept album to show. In the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, she stresses the tension between art and domesticity: what is beauty for if one is hungry? And the struggle between Hades and Persephone naturally becomes a parable of climate change, in which the stripping of the earth appears to be unfaithful.
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To argue these points, "Hadestown" moves the narrative to a land that looks like an impertinent New Orleans, with a demonic smelter. As such, Mitchell's score combines folk, pop and Dixieland with rhythmic work songs and, for lovers, ethereal tunes. All this sounds good in the swing arrangements for a formidable group of seven musicians on stage.
Except for a few replenishments, it's the same thing as three years ago – at least on the surface. But if there is one thing that this "Hadestown" pushes, it's the idea that what really matters is to happen where you can not see it.
Under the hood, a million small adjustments have been made, especially to lyrics, which have thrown some of their pop cloud in favor of specificity. The Fates, a trio of girls, now feel more integrated in the action, not just witty commentators. And a new chorus of five hunky workers expands not only sound but also the theme of security at the expense of freedom.
Yet the most obvious transformation is visual: "Hadestown" is now performed on stage, instead of a miniature Greek amphitheater. Although her concept is still high-profile, Rachel Hauck's unique set outlines a recognizable place idea: a jazz joint in the basement that miraculously turns into the furnace room of the Hades factory. It is emblematic of the choice of production to deliver the story to the public as close to Broadway as possible.
In truth, he can only welcome many. "Hadestown", even with the heat that has accumulated, is still a somewhat abstract experience, mediated by several layers of narration from Hermes, The Fates and many songs. A feeling is also likely to be portrayed as embodied and Mrs. Mitchell develops her broader themes primarily through metaphor. It can become tiring; Although much of what is going on is going well, I have started to think it would be better.
The main story suffers the most from this problem: Apart from their arias, Orpheus and Eurydice are written blandly and are therefore played. What begins as a clever riff on "Rent" – the poor bohemian girl falls in love with the musician who can not finish her song – quickly becomes vague and simply pretty. Attempts to complicate the psychology of characters are turning against them, and their culminating ascent from the underworld, the only thing that worked perfectly downtown, no longer works. They are just going around in circles.
Fortunately, the second story is direct and alive. Mr. Page, to lull a look of Leon Redbone and scold, makes an electrifying and harmful Hades, even without playing the Trumpian parallels that have gone beyond the material. (One of his songs, written more than ten years ago, is entitled "Why are we building the wall?")
And Mrs. Gray, never better than anyone else, makes something awesome with Persephone: a free spirit, a loose cannon, a first lady coopted by wealth but subversive emotionally. When, as part of the conference call, she sings the finest number of the score – "I Raise My Cup", you finally want the series to slow down so you can live that moment of light forever.
Along the way, Ms. Chavkin was probably as close as possible to selling a downtown cerebral story as a cutting-edge entertainment on Broadway. Like the sets and musical arrangements, the costumes (by Michael Krass), lighting (by Bradley King) and sound design (by Nevin Steinberg and Jessica Paz) live up to their expectations.
The result is just as beautiful as that of "Natasha, Pierre and the great comet of 1812" Ms. Chavkin – and more consistent. What makes you almost forget the hiccup that such a desperate series ("It's a sad song") is now so welcoming.
Do not let this distract you, however, from his calm, buried in a word near the end: we sing the sad song again and again as we play solitaire: "as if it could turn this time."
For "Hadestown" – if it is not yet the case for us – it is the case.
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