The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice has inspired countless works of art, yet is usually told from Orpheus’s point of view. The couple marry, Eurydice dies, and the gorgeous music of Orpheus wins him entry to the underworld. He then seems set to return his wife to Earth — but only on condition that he does not look back as he retrieves her.
Sarah Ruhl’s take on this most operatic of myths is inventive. The play’s essential idea is that all love is remembrance. It’s haunted by Oedipal imagery — Ruhl invents a solemnly admonitory father for Eurydice — and by torrents of oblivion-inducing water. Yet the language is uncomfortably skewed towards pretentious aphorism, and in Bijan Sheibani’s raw production the mood is poetic rather than potent.
As Eurydice, Ony Uhiara trips across the metallic mesh of a stage with exquisite lightness and articulates herself forcefully. Osi Okerafor’s Orpheus combines passion and a teasing elusiveness.
Nevertheless, there’s an overwhelming sense of muddle. While the story of Eurydice is all about the power of a single backward glance — a notion I find utterly seducing — Ruhl’s play is cryptic where it ought to be weighty. There’s a touch of Beckett about it, and a hint of Caryl Churchill, but its dreaminess is self-conscious and gives limited pleasure.
Until June 5. Information: 020 7922 2922.
Eurydice
Young Vic
The Cut, SE1 8LZ
