It's a sad song
It's a sad tale, it's a tragedy
It's a sad song
But we sing it anyway
'Cause here's the thing:
To know how it ends
And still begin to sing it again
As if it might turn out this time
I learned that from a friend of mine
See, Orpheus was a poor boy
But he had a gift to give:
He could make you see how the world could be
In spite of the way that it is
 |
| Helen Maybanks |
One of the many miracles of
Hadestown, Anaïs Mitchell and Rachel Chavkin's strange, stunning folk opera at the Kerr, is the richly bittersweet way it manages to simultaneously lament and celebrate the endless repetitions that make up human lives. In so many ways, most all of them beautiful in execution, this haunting show teases out the endless redundancies and rituals that lead us from birth to death, pointing out along that way that cycles can be a drag, but also the source of joy and celebration. Life might seem futile in its repetitions,
Hadestown implies, but so long as there's the potential for beauty, love and ritual, it isn't a waste.
