National Theatre Live: Phédre (2009)

Apparently, this was the first ever National Theatre Live recording. It certainly wasn’t the first time theatre has ever been filmed for commercial consumption, but this was the show that prefaced every beloved recording of the fine array of London theatre I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to see on the big screen, for free on YouTube during the pandemic, and now through the streaming service. Back when I was having my mind blown by the dual versions of Frankenstein, it was because this live-in-cinema event went off so successfully.

An English translation of a French play about a Greek tragedy, Phédre is named for its central character, an Athenian queen who may or may not be prepared to burn it all down for the sake of the intense attraction she feels towards her stepson. With her husband presumed dead far from home, Phédre wrestles with her feelings for Hippolytus, who has his sights set on a forbidden love of his own.

I wasn’t familiar with this story going into the play, but even based on my decidedly-limited knowledge of Greek tragedy, it definitely tracks. Lots of, shall we say uncomfortable relations, lots of exquisite drama in the monologues, lots of lives poetically undone by a slight trick of fate, and in the end, lots of blood. Check, check, check, and check!

This is an instance where I’d say the play didn’t really pull me in but I still enjoyed the production. Does that make sense? The story didn’t enthrall me, which made it a little tough for it to hold my attention. But the design was beautiful, expansive and bleak at the same time, and the costumes were understated but effective. All the elements of the production came together to evoke the right feelings, even if I wasn’t as engaged as I might have liked to be.

Then there’s the cast, which was the main reason I wanted to check out the play. Obviously, Helen Mirren tears it up as Phédre, a queen who loathes her own lust and fights not to let it rule her, even as she longs for it. She’s by turns commanding and servile, which is an impressive dichotomy to pull off. Dominic Cooper (former History Boy alert!) does well as Hippolytus, an honorable young man caught in a terrible position, and Ruth Negga is sweet and lovely as Aricia, the woman he loves. The production also features Chipo Chung, who I first saw as Chan’tho on Doctor Who’s “Utopia” but who I since came to love as the Master on Into the Badlands.

Warnings

Violence, sexual references, and strong thematic elements (including suicide.)