UK duo Alexander Wright and Phil Grainger have been writing and touring contemporary versions of Greek myths since they met at school in Yorkshire. Wright&Grainger’s Eurydice was written in 2018 as a companion piece to their earlier Orpheus, which came to FRINGE WORLD in 2019, followed by a first iteration of Eurydice in 2020. Now they’ve remounted both (along with a new work, Selene) at three different venues as part of this year’s program.
This version of Eurydice features Grainger on acoustic guitar, keyboard and percussion sampler as well as vocals, accompanying Scottish performer Megan Shandley as narrator and fellow singer.
It’s simple but effective pub theatre and worked a treat on the outdoor stage at The State Theatre Centre WA, despite the occasional noisy street action in Northbridge on a Saturday night (which only added to the ambience).
Wright&Grainger’s Eurydice review – quick links
Greek myth meets slam poetry
Wright’s text alternates between narration and song lyrics but is entirely in verse: the narration is a kind of loosely rhyming, rhythmically irregular and rapidly delivered slam poetry, while the song lyrics are more sparse, repetitive and elliptical. Grainger accompanies the whole thing, initially on gently picked acoustic guitar but switching midway through the show to a sampler as the story ramps up.
Initially the narrative is a bit thin. We first meet Eurydice (or ‘Leni’ as she prefers to call herself) as a feisty five-year-old raised by a single mum, then time-jump to a teenage courtship by similarly free-spirited guitar player Aristeus (‘Ari’) that leads to romance and marriage when they are barely out of school, followed by years of apparent contentment before – inevitably – the wheels begin to fall off and they agree to part.
After a short period of singledom, Eurydice finally meets Orpheus, another singer/guitar player (who would have guessed it?) in a karaoke bar. It’s love at first sight, and a whirlwind romance leads to another wedding.
Deconstructing the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice
At this point the original myth kicks in (and the show presumably intersects with its companion piece Orpheus) and things begin to get interesting. (At almost 40 minutes in, despite the considerable charm of the writing, music and performers I confess I was beginning to glance at my watch.) Aristeus shows up at the wedding, tells Eurydice he still loves her, and the text begins to deconstruct the myth rather than simply updating or supplementing it, albeit in a slightly confusing way.
On the one hand, things become more overtly mythic. After she’s stung by a bee and dies of anaphylactic shock, Orpheus duly pursues Eurydice into the underworld. On the other hand, after a chat with Persephone, appearing in the guise of wise old woman of the Underworld, Eurydice turns the myth on its head (or perhaps back on its feet) by calling out to Orpheus on the return journey and telling him she’s not ready to join him until she’s found herself as an independent woman and freed herself from the role assigned to her by the myth.
All this seemed a bit glib in comparison with the mystery and tragedy of the original. Discarding and inverting its mythical trappings, the story seemed even less substantial than the plot of a mid-90s mumblecore slacker romance like Reality Bites or Before Sunrise, or perhaps more aptly the 2007 movie musical Once, about two street musicians falling in love.
That said – and like those movies – Eurydice is carried by the sweetness of the writing, music and characters, and above all by the talent and charm of the performers. Shandley is an engaging storyteller and effortless singer, and Grainger has a disarming stage presence and a soaring tenor to die for.
Who wouldn’t be rooting for these two to get it together, follow their dreams and live their lives – even if the point of the show is that doing all three of these might be impossible?
