Hadestown: The Musical
Usually, Carl and I avoid musicals and operas. I because they reveal my inner sap, and Carl because he dislikes characters carrying on a perfectly good conversation, only to break into song. So it was with hesitation that we went to see Hadestown: The Musical.
We need not have worried. It is an excellent movie adaptation of the play Hadestown, which is a blending of two myths: Orpheus and Eurydice, and Hades and Persephone. Aside from the fact that the story being told is a tragedy and, thus, ends tragically, it has excellent actors, a fabulous live band—the trombone player occasionally takes center stage—and, of course, the story itself has lasted for millennia.
Being me, I hoped that Orpheus would overcome his doubt and mistrust of the gods. Maybe this time he would hold trust until Eurydice stepped fully into the land of the living again.
But that would be so Hollywood. As the film proceeded, I couldn’t see a way out of the heartbreak of the ending and still have the resonance of the original story. And, indeed, the playwright, Anais Mitchell, stuck to the original ending. Because, as Hermes notes, we continue to tell the story, despite its tragic and seemingly inevitable end.
Myths teach us. Back in the way-back days, they were told orally. The storytellers shaped the narrative and the myths evolved, subtle shifts occurring as the narrators adapted the story to what their times needed.
In which case, I wonder. Might we, today, like Orpheus, face our darkest fears? And like Eurydice, remember the love we have lost, our connection to life?
Hades is the Greek god of the Underworld. His Roman counterpart is Pluto. In Jungian terms, they are archetypes representing the unconscious, the shadow parts of us. By facing those shadow parts, recognizing and accepting them, might we set them free, thereby leaving room for transformation and new beginnings? Imagine that. We might change the story of humans.
All to say, I found the ending of Hadestown strangely hopeful. Because we do, indeed, keep telling the story. Maybe someday there will be a telling of how Orpheus transforms, transcends, has Eurydice back in his arms once again. Failing to believe that it’s possible is, I think, a failure of imagination.
Like the workers in Hadestown, who listened to Orpheus’ music and, for a moment, their freedom seemed attainable. They lifted their heads and hoped.
If only we hold out hope and don’t look back to an idyllic past—it is gone and perhaps never was—but instead go forward, step by step, toward the light.