The Power of Hadestown

This weekend, I finally gave in and listening to Hadestown, the Tony-winning Broadway musical retelling of the myth of Eurydice and Orpheus. The musical is a joy to listen to from start to finish, and deserving on all the mountains of praise that have been heaped upon it.

And I have thoughts.

The musical is not a happy story. For those of you well-versed in Greek mythology, the story of Orpheus and Eurydice does not have a happy ending. A quick recap: Eurydice dies and goes to hell. Orpheus goes to get her back. He strikes a deal with Hades. He can walk out of hell with Eurydice behind him as long as he doesn’t look back. Shocker –– he doesn’t end up believing Hades. He glances back, and Eurydice is doomed to eternal damnation.

You wouldn’t think that this musical could revamp a story more than 2 millenia old. But Hadestown takes these characters and fleshes them out – with pathos, nuance and flaws. It invests heavily in the romance between Orpheus and Eurydice, to the point where you can’t help but wonder if they are going to change the story. Will these crazy kids make it, after all?

They don’t, of course. Which leads me to wonder –– why do I have the soundtrack on repeat if I know how the story ends? Why do I enjoy Romeo and Juliet, when the first verse gives away that they’re both going to die? Why have I seen Titanic a hundred times, knowing that Jack never gets on that door?

Why do I enjoy tragedies?

Is it the hope of a happy ending?#

Maybe we tell and retell these stories, in the hopes that one day, the story will change. Maybe if we tell Romeo and Juliet enough times, they’ll get the chance to live happily ever after. Hadestown indulges heavily in this, meta-textually being about telling Orpheus and Eurydice’s story an endless number of times, despite how it ends.

There is something utterly human in knowing how the story ends, and still hoping against hope for reality itself to change to make things right.

But I don’t think that’s quite it. I don’t want Romeo and Juliet to elope. I don’t want Orpheus and Eurydice to make it out of hell. It seems a disservice to their story to change it.

Is it a sense of happiness at someone else’s sorrow?#

Maybe looking at the utter misery of everyone aboard the Titanic makes us feel better about our lives. If the media we watch is so unfair to the characters, our lives look much more fair in comparison. Isn’t it nice to not be on a sinking ship? :D

As delightful as that thought is, I don’t think that’s it either. I don’t look at Hadestown and get happier that my significant other isn’t condemned to hell.

Then, why do we enjoy tragedies?

Because there’s meaning in failure.#

Romeo and Juliet, by all means, is a failed romance story. Their romance was, by no measure, a success. But they are the most successful romantic couple of all time.

I believe we tell and retell these tragic stories because we believe that there’s meaning in trying –– even if it wasn’t meant to be in the end. There’s value to going to the pits of hell and back to try to rescue the love of your live, even if you failed in the end. There’s meaning in risking it all for a love affair with a peasant boy, even if he was meant to freeze in the artic ocean in the end.

Our failures are as much a part of our story as our successes, and there’s as much glory in failing as there is in succeeding.

So “raise our cups” to those who try and fail, like Orpheus and Juliet and Rose and those we meet every day and even ourselves. Life may be meant to be a tragedy, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful.