Eurydice (The Mill Theatre) - Review

 “Those who do not possess, have no fear of loss.”

Excerpt of a book, displayed in the foyer of "Eurydice".

That’s the final line I read from an excerpt of a book (belonging to director Amy Kowlczuk) in the foyer of Eurydice at the Mill Theatre at Dairy Road. I’m familiar with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice; this play, however, authored in 2003 by Sarah Ruhl, approaches the myth from the perspective of the latter lover, rather than the former. As simple a change this is, I LIVE for these kinds of stories. Not prequels nor sequels, but rather, the story within the story; the one the author missed the first time around, that another author saw fit to tell. Ruhl is well suited to that role, and her work is one that held my attention sharply without bloat or wasted time; it is a play aware of its scale, and it is liberating for creatives who wish to tackle it.

The aforementioned Amy Kowalczuk presents an intimately mythological and deceptively complex staging of Ruhl’s work, to my utter delight. The play’s working space is small, yet feels grand in her employ. Ruhl provides the story, but the tools are Kowalczuk’s to pick, and pick them well she does. She plays within her means and maximises every opportunity for actor interaction with the environment, and seamlessly conveys the mythological through, and to, the real. Her work, in conjunction with the phenomenal movement direction of Michelle Norris, provides some of the most heart-stopping, breath-taking sequences of actor movement I’ve ever seen.

Performances are pitch perfect, each and every one. Alana Denham-Preston is a heartbreaking Eurydice. Her innocence in the face of loss and her gradual maturing towards play’s end is a sight to behold. In merely an hour of a play’s runtime, I feel an entire life lived through her performance. I feel similarly about the complimentary performance of Timmy Sekuless as Her Father. His gentle companionship and own struggles with loss are compelling, yet complement the grander story being wound, rather than overshadowing and threatening its coherency.

Blue Hyslop has always been a phenomenal performer in everything I’ve caught them in, and it continues to be true here. Their Orpheus is strongly portrayed, particularly in body language and emotional display. From their tender love of Eurydice, to their fierce, voiceless cry of despair at her loss, Hyslop absolutely gripped me whenever they took the stage.

Michael Cooper as A Nasty Interesting Man/Lord of the Underworld is comically creepy to wickedly cruel. The way in which he conducts the audience in both comedy and horror is masterful; his performance is jarring, yet it is jarring with (deeply upsetting at times) purpose. He is complemented masterfully by the chorus of stones, played by Heidi Silberman, Sarah Hull, and Sarah Nathan-Truesdale, all three of which demonstrate a remarkable choral bond of united speech and brittle, stone-like body language; they, alongside Cooper, embodied the true grimness and cruelty of the world of the dead, which so often makes victims of us all, even in life.

As far as technical achievements go, the lighting, costuming, and sound balance were all superbly complimentary. The set construction in particular often marvelled me with both simplicity and the ease with which it was applied to Kowalczuk’s vision. The collaboration of all these elements made for a setting that drew me in the second the lights dimmed, and I could smell the damp, hazy air. And it did not let me go for one second.

At an hour of runtime, this show was an elating experience to sit in on. I had never been to the Mill Theatre, and it was a wonderful introduction. If you’re unfamiliar with Ruhl’s play, the myth it adapts, or the venue within which it is presented, I strongly urge you to check it out for yourself. It’s beautiful, and its message can resonate with so many of us.

You’ve got a Saturday and one week of shows left. Go see it.