The floor, initially littered with the toys of Medea's two young sons, provides an ample arena for the fierce emotional intensity of the actors. The Olivier hasn't been this heated since last year's Othello. There's strong support from Martin Turner as a sadly underused and slimy Creon, and Michaela Cola is crushingly aware of the inevitable as the Nurse. Cole also manages to brilliantly navigate her way through both the opening and concluding monologues, even making Ben Power's sometimes flat dialogue seem natural and unforced. Cole has a bright future ahead of her. Also in the cast is Danny Sapani, who as Jason is both a smooth politician and loving father, devastatingly (and awkwardly) posing for a picture with his two small sons.
And then there's Helen McCrory who is a vicious and barbaric Medea. Dragging the bloody corpses of her two sons in sleeping bags, she appears more as a savage lioness than a mother descended from the Sun Gods. Her performance is richly nuanced, and despite her small stature she towers above the rest of the cast with wild-eyed power and control.
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| Helen McCrory in the title role © Richard Hubert Smith |
Even the music is stunning. In a brilliant design choice, Carrie Cracknell chooses to have the Chorus appear as bridesmaids, carrying boxes of flowers and dresses. They dance erratically to Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory's sinister, carnivalistic score, becoming more and more bloodied and messy as the show continues.
With hundreds of £15 now on sale, you have no choice. You have to see Medea. Despite some occasionally dull dialogue, this powerhouse production will go down in history as one of the best Medea's to ever grace the stage. The cast fire on all cylinders, performing on a stunning stage under the genius, focused direction of Carrie Cracknell.
9/10
