Staff writer Lydia Bruce reviews the National Theatre’s performance of Bacchae, exploring the play’s commentary on contemporary womanhood and gender binaries.
Earlier this week I visited the National Theatre, prompted by their £10 ticket deal with 16-25 year olds. I chose purposefully to go in blind, taking with me only the high praise by James Norton, when he was interviewed by The National Theatre on his opinions about the performance.
Initial impressions were that of high regard, descending into a dimly lit, yet surprisingly open circle of seating, enveloping a dynamic, yet sparsely decorated centre stage. The Olivier Theatre was almost pulsing with the anticipation that so often comes with a trip to the theatre.
Action assumes almost immediately. The audience is plunged into 2 hours of lively performance. In Bacchae, women take centre stage. They take shape in the form of an unapologetically direct, nomadic community known as the ‘Bacchae’, argued to de-centre gender binaries and evolve what we know and expect as ‘Greek Tragedy’, into the modern realm.
One of the most striking elements was the androgynous aesthetic of the costume design. This choice not only created a visually compelling stage, but also resonated with the play’s exploration of destabilised identities and the subversion of gender binaries. Each woman, clad in a similarly shapeless, dull coloured garment. The effect of this made it feel as though the women moved as one uniting force, suggestive towards a collective struggle towards achieving liberation. Certainly, the intention of the production is to depict the Bacchae as ‘fierce and unstoppable’, with the aim to, ‘liberate it’s women’. The National Theatre. Photo by Farandulero, via Wikimedia Commons, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/ via WikiMedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Conan_Gray_presentando_su_sencillo_Jigsaw.jpg
However, I felt as though the initial achievement of showing meaning through performance got slightly lost as the production came to its terminus. Towards the end, the script felt as if it were exposing itself and its aims a little too obviously. In primary school when I was getting ready for my nativity, I remember being told to ‘show not tell’, which I used to believe was to merely make me feel better for not having a speaking part, but now I see holds true. There is certainly something clever in the ability to deliver a powerful societal message without having to stand on the centre stage telling the audience how they should think.
Having said that, the general messages of decentring womanhood and challenging the notions of gender are important ones, and perhaps not all audience members would be wise to the idiosyncrasies of performance that may ‘show’ an overarching concept rather than telling it. What I did appreciate was the way this production transformed traditional ‘Greek Tragedy’, with its riddles and jargon, into a more accessible, understandable delivery, which can be enjoyed by a much wider audience. I somewhat agree with the argument that the preservation of traditional performance as it was intended, is important, but Bacchae never claimed to be an accurate rendition. Bacchae differs from a traditional Greek tragedy in several key ways. While the original play by Euripides relies on formal language, masks, and a chorus speaking in unison, the National Theatre’s version modernises these elements through contemporary staging, costume, and delivery. The production often replaces the traditional chorus with individual voices, movement, or music that reflect modern styles rather than ritual performance. Visual effects, lighting, and sound are used to heighten emotional intensity in ways unavailable to ancient theatre, which relied on open-air amphitheatres and minimal sets. Additionally, the interpretation of leading characters Dionysus and Pentheus is frequently more psychological or symbolic, exploring gender, identity, and repression in a way that speaks to modern audiences rather than focusing purely on divine punishment and fate. The National Theatre reimagines The Bacchae as a dynamic, accessible experience rather than a strictly religious or ceremonial one. It is apologetically original and contemporary and should therefore be looked at as an entirely separate display: a modernised re-imagination with gestures to a more classical past.
Overall, if the purpose of theatre is to entertain, then Bacchae achieves its aims. From my perspective, the audience felt captivated and engaged throughout its entirety, despite there being no break for over-priced ice cream. It had everything a theatre-goer may expect from a good performance: thoughtful costume; a combination of dance and vocals (not to everyone’s preference, I am aware); humour and a storyline that was easy enough to follow, even if not as well versed in classical Greek Tragedy.
As a whole I would recommend visiting, especially if you’re a student, or one of the lucky under 25s who can claim your £10 tickets. It’s not a production made for individuals searching authentic renditions of Greek Tragedy, but it might give you a good laugh, which in many ways, we could all do with more of.
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