Firey, tender, haunting, powerful—the Cary Academy Hadestown production embodied passion and talent on opening night, Valentine’s Day. Berger Hall transformed into the swanky streets of New Orleans and the fiery depths of the mechanical underworld through evocative lighting and staging, swingin’ live music, and a uniformly proletariat ensemble juxtaposed by magnetic lead performances.
As the lights dimmed and the music swelled, Hermes (Kainda Nzinga, ’25) set the stage for the story to unfold, proclaiming, “It’s an old song.” Indeed, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice has been interpreted on stages across millennia (most notably by my second-grade class). In Anaïs Mitchell’s retelling, Hermes, the ancient god of travel, eases us into the beautiful tragedy, warning, “It’s a sad song, we gonna sing it anyway.” This preface sets the doomed yet ebullient tone for the rich story that builds before our eyes, guided by the all-knowing Hermes.
Without missing a beat, the show plunged into an immersive, slightly abstract fusion of Depression-era industrial life and Greek mythology that teems with dynamism and emotion. An onstage music ensemble, conducted by Linda Velto, combined themes of jazz, blues, rock, ragtime, and folk to effectively blend contemporary tensions of an industrialized world, uniquely American culture, and the undeniable tragedy. Along with the creatively versatile stage design, the seamless lighting, designed by Ezra Zhang (’25) and operated by Sebastian Limkakeng (’25), advanced the constant tonal shifts of the production. For example, the descent into the moody, subterranean underworld was signaled by literally lowering the stage lights, making the vast stage feel as claustrophobic as a coal mine—one that, just moments before, felt like the boundless void of death in a dark and isolated duet between Hades and Eurydice.
Interpreting timeless figures is no small task, but the lead performers’ familiarity with their roles masterfully infused the Greek myths with modern subtexts and quirks that made each character feel both familiar and entirely fresh. Hades (Yul Choi, ’26) was reimagined as a slick oil/coal/tech tycoon, and Choi commanded the stage with his smoothly powerful bass, while Brooke Murgitroyd (’25) as Eurydice sang with a world-weary yet hopeful attitude, like she knew her fate but would resist it each time. Aida Lo (’25) perfectly contrasted the summertime energy and winter’s stoicism as Persephone, and Henry Lim (’26) delivered Orpheus’ beautiful melody with a genuineness that instantly endeared the audience to his doomed protagonist. I particularly enjoyed the devilish narration throughout the show, from the Fates’ (Sanvi Katla, ‘28, Corinne Laurey, ’25, Margot Proper, ‘30) insidious internal commentary in tight three-part harmony to Hermes’ jaunty contextualization. As a cast, the contrast of vocal registers, texture, and delivery brought emotion, power, and individuality to the veritably professional production.
As all good myths do, Hadestown holds a mirror to our society, and its political message is especially poignant in our current moment. The similarities to Trumpian America seem glaringly obvious in Hades’ number, “Why We Build the Wall,” where the god of death croons “Why do we build the wall?” and the workers chant back, “The wall keeps out the enemy,” but I was surprised to learn that Mitchell first wrote Hadestown a full decade before Trump was elected. However, Hadestown packs a powerful punch in an era when oil and fossil fuel conglomerates are enabled with disastrous disregard for the environment, and tech kings like Elon Musk are given unbridled freedom, permeating government function. The musical’s anti-capitalist theme is most prominent in Hades’ factory, where a uniform ensemble created an industrial atmosphere through hissing “chuucksss” and choppy movements, while their uprising reminds us of the power of the masses. Small details, like Eurydice accepting a bag of poker chips from Hades, symbolize the human fallacy that capitalism exposes—self-sabotage out of desperation and desire. Ultimately, Mitchell’s incredible playwriting transforms a Greek myth into a story about love and hope in the soul-sucking void of capitalism and exploitation.
In short, Hadestown draws its allure from its ability to blend myth, music, and emotion in a way that feels both timeless and timely, making it a musical that speaks to the heart, the mind, and the soul. Perfectly placed on Valentine’s Day weekend, the Hadestown cast beautifully portrayed an ancient tragedy with the nuanced tensions between trust and doubt, wealth and poverty, and love and tragedy. I would’ve sat, glued to my seat, in the theater, invited by the musical’s cyclical nature, but that would contravene Hadestown’s ultimate message—there is always hope when you try.