Last weekend, I watched Ben Power’s adaption of Euripides’ Medea at the Manoel Theatre, directed by Bettina Paris with Becky Camilleri as the titular Medea, and featuring choreography by Sandra Mifsud, set design by Adrian Mamo, sound design by Matteo Depares and lighting design by Dali Aguerbi.

This Medea is a modern retelling of the Greek myth and offers Maltese audiences commentary on trauma and traditions. This production presents a solid rendition of an age-old play, modernised and retold through a female gaze.

Paris illuminates displacement and xenophobia through other elements, guiding her cast to explore civility and its limitations. The interplay of social acceptance and otherness was rendered starkly – a dichotomous society willing to include Medea when it suited their agenda, but quick to ostracise her.

This thematic approach resonates strongly within today’s sociopolitical context, particularly with the chilling echoes of the “your body, my choice” rhetoric, making the adaptation both timely and haunting.

Camilleri’s mastery of voice and movement was unmatched, bringing to life the nuanced layers of a woman torn between love, vengeance and survival. From the raw anguish of curses delivered on hands and knees to her calculated negotiations with men who sought to undermine her autonomy, Camilleri’s Medea was as compelling as she was terrifying.

The decision to end with Medea dragging her children across the stage – eschewing Euripides’ deus ex machina – stripped the narrative of its mythic detachment and grounded it in raw, human tragedy.

Her final cry of realisation reverberated through the theatre, leaving the audience enveloped in the horror of her actions. Camilleri transformed Medea into an unrelenting force of female rage, presenting a character both formidable and deeply tragic.

Nathan Brimmer’s Jason served as a compelling counterpart to Becky Camilleri’s Medea.

Nathan Brimmer’s Jason served as a compelling counterpart to Camilleri’s Medea. Brimmer embodied a man undone by hubris – his relentless pursuit of power and personal gain ultimately blinding him to his wife’s capacity to outwit him.

Brimmer’s charismatic portrayal captured Jason’s ability to charm royalty, but beneath his exterior lay the fragility of a man who failed to grasp the true extent of his betrayal. His performance was marked by eloquence and natural ease, heightening the tension between Jason’s arrogance and ultimate downfall.

Mikhail Basmadjian was an excellent choice for Kreon, exuding stately authority while imbuing his performance with layers of complexity.

Sandie Von Brockdorff’s Nurse, a figure of maternal warmth and loyalty, portrayed her protective presence and candid vocalisation of the despair underpinning Medea’s plight.

This thematic approach resonates strongly within today’s sociopolitical context, particularly with the chilling echoes of the “your body, my choice” rhetoric, making the adaptation both timely and haunting

Philip Leone Ganado’s portrayal of Aegeus brought an emotional reprieve to the tragedy. His sincerity and vulnerability counterbalanced the chaos of Medea’s unravelling world, mirroring her desperate search for refuge.

Alex Weenink’s portrayal of Jason’s Attendant was another standout, his monologue brimming with palpable grief and moral conviction, elevating the communal emotional experience.

The chorus (Victor Debono, Myron Ellul, Chantelle Micallef Grimaud, Simone Spiteri, and Ann-Marie Buckle), a cornerstone of Ancient Greek play texts, delivered a strong overall performance, though at times, members were not fully aligned with the cohesion characterised by the function of a chorus.

Understanding that the chorus is a reflection of society made Paris’ casting excellent, with diversity and inclusivity at the helm. While this might have sacrificed communitas at points, it produced a strong message in emphasising the chorus’ (and thus, the community’s) pivotal role in shaping the collective emotional experience of the tragedy.

The chorus (Victor Debono, Myron Ellul, Chantelle Micallef Grimaud, Simone Spiteri and Ann-Marie Buckle) delivered a strong overall performance.

With altogether strong performances from the cast, the production design fell short of achieving the same level of polish. While the set effectively utilised the three entrances and incorporated an orchestra area for the chorus – a thoughtful nod to tradition and clever use of the small stage – the split-stage aesthetics were less successful.

The steps at centre stage, leading to and from the orchestra area, were reminiscent of a Maltese pjazza, where the chorus gathered to whisper rumours about Medea’s otherness. However, placing Medea’s home above the royal grounds muddled the intended power dynamics between the State and the Outsider. While the lighting design helped delineate spaces for storytelling, it lacked strength during ensemble scenes, such as the wedding, where the boundaries between home and palace blurred.

This adaptation of Medea offered a fresh take on themes of power while staying true to the myth’s emotional core. Camilleri’s commanding Medea and Brimmer’s complex Jason were stand-out performances.

The production design showed promise, however there were moments where the visual elements could have been more refined to fully support the narrative. Under the direction of Paris, a strong cast has delivered a gripping rendition that resonates with audiences.

It is a pity this production was limited to three nights, as such depth merits a wider audience to appreciate the timelessness of Medea.