(Spoiler Alert: Some of these details may give away parts of the story if you're not familiar with it.)
We Choose to Sing
Hadestown is a musical that hits hard for me personally. I fell in the love with the music before I ever got to see the show, and have since seen it multiple times and listen to the two versions of the soundtracks regularly. It's one of those shows you can get something new from every re-watch, especially because different actors bring unique interpretations to their roles, like Levi Kreis as Hermes, who brought a very distinct, blues-meets-country-storyteller vibe to the touring production that carved out its own identity away from André De Shields' iconic Broadway blueprint.
If you haven't caught it yet, you only have a couple of days left before it leaves theaters, and honestly, you need to run. Seeing the original Broadway cast back together on the big screen isn't just a recording; it’s pure magic. Close-ups catch the actors' actual tears, the twitch in Hades's eye when Orpheus starts winning over the workers with his song, and a level of raw, visceral emotion that a mezzanine seat can't always reach. It's that bittersweet, tragic-yet-optimistic plot I love so much in stories—the reminder that even when we logically know how it all ends, we choose to hope anyway.
Happy Accidents
Seeing the show for the first time on Broadway was practically a happy accident - I had flown out to NYC to see the fabulous J. London performing as Mary Sunshine in the show Chicago, and before my plane had even pulled into the gate, my outgoing flight had been cancelled due to the incoming winter storm, and so I immediately booked Hadestown for the extra day we'd be
"stuck" in NYC. Since then, I've had the opportunity to see it a couple times touring, including in Dallas when my Yellowstone trip got cancelled at the last minute.
It turns out Hadestown has a way of anchoring itself to life's little disruptions. It isn't just a clever retelling of an old myth; it was speaking directly to the exact tensions I wrestle with every day. It's one of those shows and soundtracks you can see and watch multiple times and get something new out of it, speaking to you in the context of your life in that moment, differently, every time.
At its core, Hadestown captures that exhausting, universal modern dilemma: choosing between toiling away in some sterile corporate machine for perceived security and comfort versus embracing the messy, unpredictable reality of being poor in pocket but rich in actual joy and contentedness. We’re constantly fed lines by the powers that be—told what we have to sacrifice, how we have to bow to the system, and what our limits are. But the show reminds us that compliance is a choice. We can choose not to believe their lies. We can plant our feet, stand our ground, and choose our own fates, even when the odds are stacked impossibly high.
One set of lyrics I absolutely love which probably gets lost on first-time listeners is this:
"What's the purpose of a man? / … / What's the use of his backbone? / If he never stands upright? / If he turns his back on everyone?"And goodness knows I relate to the sheer weight of self-doubt when you don't have the reassurance of someone else telling you you're on the right path. It’s that terrifying feeling of pouring everything you have into something—doing the work, sweating over the details, feeling like you’ve finally done enough—only to look up and realize the prize is just out of reach.
That’s why the characters hit so close to home. They are relentlessly optimistic, even when they logically and intuitively know how the story has to end. It's very similar to what draws me to my other favorites, like The Great Gatsby, Rent, and Waitress. We know winter is coming. We know the green light fades, some people will lose their battle with disease and leave us prematurely, and the relationships sometimes must end. But we choose to sing anyway.
The Human Element
If you've only ever experienced Hadestown in the theater, seeing the new live theater capture on the big screen brings a far deeper experience. The intimacy of the close-ups and surprising angles a theater audience wouldn't have access to changes everything, especially when you're watching performers operate at this level of sheer physical and emotional vulnerability.
That’s where the pro-shot truly earns its keep. In a live theater, you miss the micro-expressions—the way Persephone’s eyes well up with real tears during the heaviest emotional beats and right through the final curtain call. Bringing back the original Broadway cast wasn't just a nostalgic stunt; it unlocked a rare, unmatched level of collective vulnerability because these actors have lived inside these skins for years.
You can see that dedication written all over the stage, quite literally, in the case of Patrick Page. Knowing that he was performing through a severe, full rupture of his Achilles tendon during the filming adds this heavy, poetic meta-layer to the whole experience (nevermind the fun little irony of a show built on Greek mythology featuring an injured body part also named for Greek mythology). Live theater doesn't wait for us, and bodies break, but Page pushed through the pain to stay put and immortalize his Hades alongside his original castmates before heading off to surgery. When art imitates life's endurance like that—when you see the actual sweat, the physical toll, and the real tears captured in crisp focus—it reminds you why we keep showing up for stories that ask us to feel everything all at once.
Details I Loved
Eurydice's heart melting as she falls in love with Orpheus becomes drastically more apparent and visceral simply through the micro-expressions on her face, where I felt like it was odd that she fell for him so quickly and abruptly after being skeptical and wary of his approach.
In the Under World, as Orpheus sings his presumably final song, catching Hades’s eye twitch as he realizes he's losing control is so genuine I'm not actually sure if its terrific acting or another happy accident (can one act an eye twitch?). Across from him, Orpheus looks genuinely battered, wiping blood from his face and showing a bruising and ripped shirt that made me wonder when they managed to apply those effects during the very physical enactment of an absolute beating.
The technical illusions get a massive upgrade through the lens, too. The clever visual illusion of the wall cracking open feels seamless and cinematic, drawing you straight into the crumbling geometry of the underworld.
Orpheus uses his stomping as raw percussion—pounding out that driving rhythm on two different occasions— and the camera captures the sweat and the sheer physical impact of it, grounding the music in heavy, real-world effort.
The Pattern of Hopeful Tragedy
My Dad once joked that there was no point in watching the movie, "Titanic," because we know how it ends: the ship sinks. Sitting there watching the resolution as the cast portends to start the retelling, it hit me why Hadestown slots so neatly into my heart right alongside The Great Gatsby. There is a very specific, deeply human pattern to my absolute favorite stories. They refuse to hand you a cheap, tied-in-a-bow, fairy-tale ending.
Instead, they look reality dead in the eye. They remind us that life is going to hand us tragedies, and "none of us make it out alive." We know the outcome and yet, we stay. We watch them try anyway, and we celebrate the optimism. I've spent a lot of time reading Holocaust stories for a similar reason - in literally the worst conditions any human has gone through, let alone millions of humans, these amazing people held to their hope, found love, and found ways to resist.
That is the beauty of it. These stories don't offer false comfort; they offer honest, hard-earned hope. They validate the exhaustion of toiling away, the fear of failing after you've given everything, and the heavy weight of self-doubt. But they also remind us that the value is in the choosing. We can look at the system, recognize the odds, and choose to sing the song anyway. That's what makes the tragedy feel so worth it every single time.
There's No Turning Back: Catch It Before It Goes Away!
If you’ve been on the fence about seeing this live capture screening, consider this your official sign to drop everything and go. It’s only in theaters for a couple more days, and trust me, experiencing this level of raw emotion, the stunning close-ups, and the sheer power of the original cast back together on the big screen is an entirely different beast than streaming it later or remembering it from the nosebleeds.
Run—don't walk—to your nearest theater. Go see the tears, feel the sweat, and let yourself get completely wrecked by the magic of it all before the curtain falls for good. We already know the winter is coming, but while the lights are still up, we might as well go sing the song.
About the Show
The Production & Filming: This special release is a live theater capture filmed on stage at the West End's Lyric Theatre in London, directed by Brett Sullivan across live performances on February 28 and March 1, 2025.
The Theatrical Run: It is a limited-engagement cinematic event playing in movie theaters for just a couple of days, giving audiences a rare chance to experience it on the big screen before it leaves theaters.
The Principal Cast (The Original Broadway Reunion):
- Reeve Carney as Orpheus
- Eva Noblezada as Eurydice
- André De Shields as Hermes
- Amber Gray as Persephone
- Patrick Page as Hades
- The Fates: The trio of Fates—who act as the internal chorus, conscience, and cold reality of the show—are brilliantly brought to life by Jewelle Blackman, Yvette Gonzalez-Nacer, and Kay Trinidad (reprising their original Broadway roles). A special shoutout is entirely deserved for the Jewelle Blackman, whose side-eye, reactions, and hilarious, biting facial expressions add an incredible layer of sass and menace to every scene she's in.
When people ask about my move to Texas, I am honest that I am really not happy with it. Again, it was the right move for my career, the cost of living is cheaper so that's helpful financially, and it led me indirectly to Sam, and for all those things I am grateful. But I hate the humidity of DFW, especially in the summer when it just feels punishing to me. And while I'm getting better at navigating the confusing freeway exits, they still confound me regularly. Bugs are a huge problem for me, also. Outside, for sure, but even in my house there seems to be a new bug every day, often of a different variety, so it's not like I have an isolated infestation that can just be wiped out. It's ongoing and constant but always changing, and that's the most frustrating part. I joke that I figured out the best way to live with the Dallas summer - leaving altogether. My escape to Scotland and London with Sam was the best part of my summer.
