An Unlikely Trip to the Underworld - Hadestown Field Trip

Photo via Hadestown

What’s the difference between a good storyteller and a great one? Where does the line blur from average to incredible, a legend born that cements itself in our very souls and tears down the walls we build. Walls, so strong that they separate ourselves from stories of love and hope and kindness – of humanity. We build so many walls. But “why do we build the walls?” Why do we “keep our heads low?” It's almost as if “we’ve been alone so long, we didn’t even know that we were lonely.” Times are “hard and getting harder all the time,” and, “in the darkest time of year," "all we want is to fall asleep – close our eyes and disappear.” Yet, there are some things that can “show us how the world could be, instead of how it is.” A bard, a storyteller, an artist, or a musician can bolster our souls “any way the wind blows.” 

After all this time, humanity mustn’t care about two young lovers, doomed forever. Surely, we don’t care about the “old song” of Orpheus and Eurydice anymore. We’re dulled by the aches of Orpheus’ soul after the “girl he loves is gone” forever. Surely, we’ve hardened ourselves and become numb to the passion of the young lovers. Humanity must have moved on. There is no more liveliness in their stories – their tale of star-crossed love reduced to the ash heap of history, naught but “an old song” and an “old tale from way back when.” “It's a love song,” and “a sad song”, and, most importantly, we know the ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. Yet, even though it’s a tragedy and we know the ending, we have a responsibility to tell the tale, “whether or not it turns out well.” 

If you still haven’t caught on, go listen to the Hadestown soundtrack. It's absolutely gorgeous, and I guarantee you, the first two paragraphs will make much more sense after you do. Okay, good. Now that you understand the musical mania that has possessed me, and have listened to (at least parts of) the breathtaking folk musical Hadestown, continue reading. 

Hadestown playbill. Photo provided by author.

The mark of a good storyteller is to capture the audience, but what distinguishes a good storyteller from a great one is whether one’s feeling of wonder and surprise at the ending holds up after multiple viewings. A good storyteller will pull at your heartstrings once and then let them go; a great storyteller will never cease to amaze. Thus, Anaïs Mitchell, the singer-songwriter and genius behind Hadestown, comes into her role of a master storyteller. After all, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice is truly as old as time. It's not new, nor original, and certainly nothing to bring fresh tears to one’s eyes. But what is Hadestown, and why is it so special? Although it premiered on Broadway in 2019, the sung-through epic actually existed for over a decade before its Broadway debut, in the form of a concept album and live performances by Anaïs Mitchell. Hadestown tells – or, perhaps sings is more appropriate – the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, two young lovers from Greek mythology. 

In case you’ve forgotten, or haven’t heard of the two, allow me to enlighten you. Orpheus was the son of a muse, and, therefore, a brilliant musician. Eurydice, on the other hand, was a beautiful nymph. The two quickly fell in love and wed, but the marriage was not to last. One day, Eurydice was running in a field (reasons differ as to exactly why she was running) and was bit by a rattlesnake, killing her immediately. Orpheus was devastated, and understandably so. The love of his life had just been stolen from him, and he no longer had anything for which to live. However, Orpheus did the unimaginable: he tried to get her back. With his lyre in hand, the instrument gifted to him by the very god of music himself, Apollo, Orpheus ventured into the underworld. His aim? To plead with Hades to allow Eurydice to return with him. To convince the king of death and underground riches, Orpheus played a heartbreaking song of love on his lyre, moving the stoic god to compassion and allowing Orpheus’ beloved to return to the land of the living. However, there was a condition: she had to walk behind him. If Orpheus looked back to check if Eurydice was still there, she would be whisked back to the underworld forever. 

The two began their long journey to the world of the living, with Orpheus being sure that he could trust himself to stay the course. However, as he couldn’t tell whether she was actually behind him or not, Orpheus began to fear that Hades had led him into a trap. He believed that Hades had doomed him to leave the underworld without his lover. Mere steps away from reaching the light, Orpheus turned around, and, to his dismay, there was Eurydice – standing right behind him. Then, she was gone. Orpheus was consumed by desolation, for he could never see his sweet Eurydice again. It is, after all, a tragedy. 

There have been countless interpretations of the myth over the years, as with almost all classics, and the two have been canonized as the tale of doomed love, with one literally going to hell and back for the other. Hadestown is a musical odyssey of their journey, detailing the same story over and over and over. In the opening number, “Road to Hell,” the main players are introduced: the gods – Hermes, Persephone, and Hades – and men. With a small cast and a simple (but extremely talented) Greek chorus, Hadestown seizes the stage with its bravado and humanity, focusing on the very core elements of the story. Orpheus is a poor boy with a gift for music, and Eurydice a hungry young girl running from the world. Neither person is one dimensional – rather, both have faults and virtues, exacerbated by the conditions in which they live. You see, Hadestown is not a verbatim interpretation of the original myth. It is not necessarily a modern interpretation, though it certainly is in a literal sense, but rather just another incarnation of Orpheus and Eurydice. In the opening number, the cast makes it clear that this is a tragedy, and that it has been sung time and time again. 

The company of Hadestown at the Pantages Theater. Photo provided by author.

In Hadestown, Mitchell takes care to paint a picture of the flawed but beautiful world that we live in. Eurydice isn’t some flimsy nymph whose only virtue is her beauty, but rather a tough, sensible girl who has had to learn to survive. When she fell, “she fell in spite of herself, in love with Orpheus.” Orpheus, however, is a dreamer. For her whole life, Eurydice has had to live on her wits alone. She can’t afford to love, nor can she let her head rest in the clouds. She has to eat. The dichotomy of their situations – Orpheus a sheltered bard and Eurydice stuck in the depths of poverty – realizes their love even more. The two are no longer dreamlike figures from mythology, but rather human beings living in an unforgiving world. Hadestown is not only a story of lost love, but a particularly poignant interpretation of modern life, criticizing capitalism and industrialist ideals. Hades himself, the god of the underworld, is not only the king of death. In Hadestown, he runs an empire of factories, riches, and walls. The anti-capitalist nature of the musical is beautifully illustrated throughout, specifically in “Chant,” “Why We Build the Wall,” “When the Chips Are Down.” Hadestown never forces politics upon the audience, but rather reflects a modern world in such a way that connections are naturally drawn. It is a beautiful story of human love, but also a scathing criticism of conglomerations, the unequal dispersal of wealth, and the state of a late-stage capitalist world.

Hadestown is inherently human, and captures the audience’s emotions in an entirely new way. I honestly can’t describe how incredible it is, but instead offer this meager endorsement. The school field trip was actually my second time seeing Hadestown. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a musical theater enthusiast, and, so, for my birthday, my mom bought us tickets to select shows in the 2025/26 season of Broadway in Hollywood. The week prior, I saw Hadestown for the first time with her, and I fell head over heels in love. When I heard that the school was hosting a field trip to go, I essentially bothered everyone I could find until I secured my spot on the excursion. The best part is that Hadestown is meant to be seen multiple times. The whole premise is that they will keep telling the story, no matter what, because, who knows? It might turn out well this time. And, if you think that’s sappy and overly hopeful, listen to this: for once, Orpheus and Eurydice made it back. Eva Noblezada and Reeve Carney, the original Broadway cast of Eurydice and Orpheus, recently eloped. Even though they aren’t their characters, without Hadestown, the two possibly wouldn’t have even met. Now they’re husband and wife. 

Eva Noblezada and Reeve Carney in their roles as Orpheus and Eurydice. Photo via Playbill

To me, there has always been something magical about the theater. The hush of the audience, pouring your soul out onstage, and the indescribable rush that comes with performing. The same is true of watching theater – it is living, breathing art, and can access a range of emotions that normal life simply cannot. When emotions become too much, the characters burst out into song. Hadestown is a reflection of the human experience, and is not only a gorgeous show with beautiful music, but hopeful (something we could all use nowadays).

After the show, we got to take a picture with Nickolaus Colón, who played the role of Hades, and, after the photo, he even signed some autographs. For me, at least, that was one of the best parts, as you never get to meet the cast you just saw. If you only take one thing from this article, let it be to listen to Hadestown. You never know what might inspire you. And, you never know to whom “we raise our cups. Goodnight, brothers, goodnight.”