Hadestown at Lyric Theatre

Spring is just around the corner in town, which means it’s time for Persephone to return to the world above after six months underground, where she is forced to stay by her husband, Hades, God of the Underworld. The Greek myth of the couple regulating the seasons is interwoven with the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice by Anaïs Mitchell in this jazz musical of love, power and poetry. The opera has been in the making since the early 2000s: after a Broadway debut and a London premiere at the National Theatre, it went on to collect Tony Awards, before the lockdown hit. In 2024, the production finally made its way to the West End and, with the first warmth of 2026 in the air, a new cast now takes to the stage.

Hermes (Clive Rowe) is the night’s host, introducing the poor but gifted Orpheus (Marley Fenton), who falls in love with the hungry yet strong-willed Eurydice (Bethany Antonia). The couple meet near the station where the train to and from Hadestown departs and arrives. Workers and lost souls travel on it, along with Persephone (Rachel Adedeji), goddess of spring, who makes the journey twice a year. But when Hades (Alastair Parker) arrives in the world of men early to collect his wife, the land becomes barren, and its inhabitants grow sad and uneasy. Eurydice sets out in search of food and warmth, but fate separates her from her lover for longer than expected, as she descends into the underworld.

There’s one guarantee: Hadestown’s songs will keep playing, pounding in the audience’s minds long after they leave the theatre. Mitchell gorgeously blends jazz and soul with a hint of folk, making the tunes more than just catchy: they are captivating, with an irresistible flow. Clearly visible on stage, the band is as much a part of the set-up as it is of the narrative, comprising cello, trombone, double bass and violin. This is a testament to the musical’s origins, which began as an album before gradually developing into a full-fledged theatre show.

The storyline doesn’t aim to be an exact rendition of the ancient Greek tales, nor quite a modern interpretation (with Hermes declaring there is no fixed where or when, even as the setting is clearly inspired by the era of the Great Depression and New Orleans). The two myths are evident and heavily referenced in their key moments, but creative freedom subtly melds them together. The prominence given to the ode to Orpheus’s lyrical prowess, at times, feels overly dramatic where it need not be. Towards the end of the second act, the parallel between the older couple of the two gods – seasoned, combative, yet ultimately reconciled – and the restless, impassioned energy that drives the young lovers is both endearing and poignant.

Themes of forced relationships, walls built in the name of freedom, and the surrender to the desires of the flesh rather than ideals are touched on here and there, with the right strength to provide food for thought while maintaining a lively, upbeat atmosphere.

Rachel Adedeji is spectacular: she is both the life of the party and the embodiment of a tired, unhappy wife, worn down yet still determined to Livin’ It Up on Top. Her movements are telling, and her voice is remarkably full of texture. Fenton’s singing is equally mesmerising. Rowe’s courteous and measured contributions are more than on point; he is the narrator we need in many more musicals.

Given the size of the stage, and with so much happening above and beyond ground level, Rachel Hauck and Bradley King, responsible for the scenic and lighting design respectively, work wonders in making hell feel hot and solidly imposing, the furnace it appears to be.