Creation, Community, and Connection in Hadestown: Teen Edition

A director's note for Hadestown.

By Danika Sudik

co-directors, Danika Sudik and Tom Burmester

The ancient Greeks didn't have a specific word for acting before an audience; they used techne to describe it as a craft in the same way one might craft a ship, build a poem, or practice the art of medicine. Aristotle elevated techne to include not just the craft, which aims to produce in service of a higher good, but also posited that participating in the activity itself—the activity of creating—held value. Like Plato before him, Aristotle believed in the importance of the practitioner being able to explain their craft, to know it so well that he could teach it to others, understanding not only the wisdom of its mechanics but also the value of how it contributes to a larger whole. So humor me as I try to explain the process and craft of what is onstage before you.

I lobbied hard to direct this show. Long ago, Tom & I were both working with Dale Franzen (the Tony Award winning Producer of Hadestown on Broadway) at The Broad Stage in Santa Monica when she brought in an early version of Hadestown and asked us to share our thoughts. We knew right away it was special--not because of what we heard on the CD. The music was interesting, sure, but it hadn't yet undergone all the countless hours of development Anaïs Mitchell and her creative partners would continue to pour into its evolution. No. We knew it was special because of what it did to her; Dale herself was transfixed and transformed--energized with laser-like focus to ensure Hadestown was shared with the world.

At first, I had my doubts about a teen version of this play, as so much of what resonates with me is how relationships endure and mature over time—or, at the very least, change as you age. But then I thought, 'if I were a god and could choose any form, would I choose my middle-aged body?'  With that silly thought (along with witnessing the extraordinary youth talent at WOH), my concerns were alleviated. Just like the gods themselves, the themes of this show are timeless, and our cast represents the growth, possibility, and potential that we all aspire to: their youth underscores the critical questions raised by the play.

Then, in a tragic turn of events, a perfect storm hit our family. Death, loss, grief, illness, betrayal--most completely outside of our control, required our full presence to move through. I asked Tom to find another director so we could focus on the one thing we could control, breathing through the chaos, and caring for each other and our children. It turns out that finding a replacement was not so easy (good on all, y'all making summer plans, btw). Eventually, we decided to direct together, hoping we could lighten the load by sharing it.

The creative process is clarifying — it can bring out the best and worst in us, as insecurities are exposed. We are either polished or transformed--like a diamond in the mine--as the heat and pressure of an impending performance asks more of us than we regularly ask of ourselves. I was afraid that adding the volatility that comes with the creative process into our lives would break us, but I'm now so grateful the gods gifted us this experience. It has been good medicine.  

Hadestown brings forward many themes for us to ponder: life and death, the extremes of what a human being can endure, the difference between solitude and lonliness, the importance of fulfilling your calling, the wonder if anything we do actually matters, how relationships repair after betrayal, how relationships decay if not tended mindfully, how to move through unpredictable weather (both actual and metaphorically), how politics and geography shape our lives, the impacts of the economy at the level of the individual, what drives people to choose fear and violence, and what inspires people, despite pain, inequities, and injustice to keep choosing to believe in a better world, and create that world with every breath, thought, action, and word. Mostly, Hadestown reminds me that the gods (staying with the conceit of the show, insert your belief system here) are kind enough to continue presenting us with problems, over and over again, until we can learn from them and truly embody their lessons.

In his time, Plato was unnerved by writing overtaking oral communication as the dominant form of communication. He preferred the dynamic ability of conversation to deepen understanding, clarify truths, and spark engagement between individuals. Within our lifetimes, communication has undergone radical transformations in ways that Plato could never have imagined.

Hadestown: Teen Edition presents a gorgeous book and score that connects us to the ancients across thousands of years of human communication, to the questions humanity has always grappled with. What you see onstage is a story that has been retold across centuries and cultures and languages, picking up things and leaving others behind, translated and interpreted by real people, again and again. This particular musical is uniquely American in its fusion of musical traditions that weave our complicated, beautiful, and tragic past and present into every measure of music.

Before psychology, or modern medicine, indeed, perhaps even before anything we would recognize as religion, there was a story passed from one human voice to another listening ear. While the mediums change over time, our human need for connection does not. Each of us yearns to be witnessed, to be understood, to be valued for who and what we already are. Live theatre is techne, as Aristotle described it —the interplay between process and product. We hope you enjoy the product you see onstage tonight, but we hope you are transfixed and transformed, as we have been, by the process of witnessing the act of creation.  

I believe no other story-sharing medium comes close to collaborating with other lovers of an art form to share it with an audience, supported by technology but not separated by it. We are here, together, feeling the energy and vitality of the living, breathing people sitting in the seats all around us. This, is where the magic happens. This is where transformation occurs. This is where we can truly be recognized by another person: in the present moment.  

The product you see onstage tonight is the result of many hands. Not just those listed in the program, but the processes of parents who rearranged their lives to support their children, ushers who volunteer their time to greet you with a smile, and members of the community who support the theatre and education programs at WOH not just with their time, talent, or donations, but with their presence.

We meet each other at the theatre to bask in that energy; to be in conversation with our community, and to give and receive attention and support. Thank you for being here with us. You complete our craft with your invaluable contribution of showing up and being exactly who and what you are.  

We raise our cups to you. Enjoy the show.