Review: Medea

By Anna Pile

Polloi Productions opened the new Fellows Garden stage with Medea – an inspired choice for a tragedy so ancient and unforgiving. Euripides’ play follows Medea’s plot for revenge after Jason, her husband, abandons her for the princess Glauce. First performed in 431 BC, the play’s origins were mirrored beautifully by its set – managed by Samantha Dotson, with support from Jay Judd and Eliza Hemphill – which featured a wall intricately painted to resemble Greek architecture sat in front of the castle; if the audience could suspend their disbelief across the channel and through mainland Europe, it blended surprisingly well as a combination of classical artistic illusion and historic brick.  

Although compelling as its first performance, the venue came with clear challenges for the performers and audience alike. Loud, external noise was audible from beyond the walls, and with no microphones this proved detrimental in quieter scenes, and  could have perhaps been aided by slightly more projection from the cast as a whole. Additionally, the absence of a raised stage resulted in an unfortunate, and at times frustrating, restricted view, causing multiple moments to become entirely out of view; this frustration was most palpably felt during Glauce’s death, along with the King’s reaction. These issues could at worst raise questions about the suitability of the venue for such theatrical performances, and at best become useful touchstones for future directors seeking to utilise the space.  

The open-air design tied neatly back to the play’s roots in ancient performance

Still, the open-air design tied neatly back to the play’s roots in ancient performance, and as a venue largely untouched undiscovered issues were inevitable. The most striking elements of the set were two stretches of fabric intricately painted and cut  to resemble a burning wasteland. In fact it was so detailed that the material itself  appeared torched; an artistic achievement that looked stunning and alluded to the violence and devastation to come.  

Sophie Green and Matteo Fronduti’s direction was simple but effective, and  considering Medea’s simplicity was unusual for Greek Tragedies of the time, restraint felt  like the right call. This stillness paid off when the tension suddenly spiked, becoming a  good contrast to the intense scenes, such as the final confrontation between Medea and  Jason. The directors used the space particularly well there, placing Medea’s golden  chariot on the castle walls, or above the “mortal realm” in a sense, cementing her power  as someone terrifyingly untouchable. The decision to exchange actors for puppets was innovative, and their unnerving design only served to heighten the uncomfortable and  tragic atmosphere.  

Medea herself was an intriguing interpretation from both the directors and actor Ivy Harper. Rather than play her as a crazed, explosive madwoman, Harper presents a more solemn protagonist – eerie to an almost inhuman extent. It’s a complex choice that makes the character’s eventual connection to the gods feel accounted for from the beginning and therefore more believable. Harper’s screams especially – not visible yet gut-wrenching all the same – were devastating. Moments like these – where Medea’s character suddenly shifted, either to beg or play nice – only highlighted her manipulative nature, and was a welcome spotlight on her intelligence and constraints within patriarchal society.  

Rather than play her as a crazed, explosive madwoman, Harper presents a more solemn protagonist – eerie to an almost inhuman extent

Jason, played by Rufus Brierly, was a similar powerhouse beside her, never missing a beat as the two hurled accusations and insults across the garden. His shift  throughout the runtime from collected charisma to a man consumed by rage and  heartbreak was fascinating to watch unfold. Molly Cowell’s nurse made an immediate impression in the first scene, recounting the story’s exposition with a shaking sense of fear that kept me hooked on each word, and together with Emma Clews’ Tutor the two  immediately created an unsettling air. Similar praise must go to Elizabeth Lea as the  messenger, who too made narration compelling and impassioned rather than simply functional.  

Sam Nel’s powerful tone was remarkable, gripping the audience with sheer vocal resonance. In contrast, Barney Howell’s Aegeus offered kindness, compassion, and a touch of naivety that brought a much-needed balance of goodwill to an otherwise morally  corrupt world. Glauce, too, offered a rare note of compassion. Played by Isabel Waller, who, despite never speaking, delivered a devastating death, even if the staging and sightlines made it almost invisible. Overall the costumes were thoughtfully designed and suited the setting, but the handful of modern suits felt anachronistic, pulling me from the world. That said, the choice to give Medea a black veil was inspired, and the costumes of the Chorus served perfectly to make them appear as a collective while leaving room for individuality.  

Overall, some performances occasionally lacked complexity, with line deliveries often feeling repetitive, stagnant, or lacking emotional weight until the end, when  tensions were forced to rise. The chorus also had some moments of struggle with their lines, and part of me wishes they had been better utilised through their spacing; however, they were always energetic in their reactions, and when emotion was needed – especially from the main cast – it arrived.  

When emotion was needed – especially from the main cast – it arrived

As one of the great plays of the Western canon, Polloi Productions certainly took a  risk with Medea, as a play so widely known, interpreted, and therefore difficult to provide a novel experience through. The direction pushed for a more unnerving interpretation – a  burning background, ominous puppets, and a Medea that feels less human, almost ghostly – which is a commendable directorial decision, but it felt as if it came at a cost. 

Some weighty themes and conflicts of the play appear to be left untouched in a sense – the question of Medea’s humanity and where morality lies, for example – in  return for favouring a more other-worldly atmosphere. By playing further into the horror of it all, it almost lost aspects of the human touch. It was certainly an intriguing interpretation, I’m just not entirely convinced it was worth this loss. That said, Medea delivered all the essential emotional beats (surprise, anger, dread, and, eventually, heartbreak) with conviction, and I left Fellows feeling the tragedy had hit the nerve it was aiming for.

Medea was performed in Fellows Garden on Monday 8 June, 2026.

Image: Polloi Productions via @polloiproductions on Instagram.