Hotel Medea’s Midnight Theatre

Now, I must forewarn you of my predilection for hyperbole, but in the case of Hotel Medea, the increasingly infamous promenade performance of the Greek myth of Jason and Medea by Brazilian theatre company Zecora Ura and Para Active, I make no absolutely no apologies.

Three years in the making, Hotel Medea arrived in London fresh from touring Rio State in Brazil and has extended its run to accommodate for all those brave souls eager to surrender themselves into this world of ritualistic ceremony, ancient passions, betrayal and tragedy.

Leaving the bright lights of the O2 pier behind, we disembarked our boat in a deserted shipping yard where security guards warned us about the danger of the Golden Fleece and taught us the necessary dance moves and songs we’d need throughout the performance.

Cracked out? Maybe, but from the moment we stepped off the boat, for the next five-and-a-half hours, we were in Medea’s world and there was no going back. Entering ‘Zero Hour Market’, we made our way through a maze of lights and spinning ribbons, as flashes of gold and whispered rumours introduced us to the power of the revered Golden Fleece. In a violent clash of leather-clad female guards vs traditional Brazilian dance, we meet Jason and Medea, becoming guests at their wedding.

Infected by the grimy Latin beats of internationally renowned DJ Dolores, or perhaps Medea’s witchcraft itself, the initially hesitant crowd soon joined the performers in a tribal dance until the room unexpectedly exploded into a mass of gyrating bodies celebrating their shotgun love.

Now, there’s always one at a wedding who gets carried away and ruins it for the rest of us but it’s not usually the bride herself. Feeling a hand around my waist, I turned around expecting one of the Brazilian revellers impressed by my samba prowess but instead, I was met by Medea’s blood-soaked face, illuminated by a guard’s torch. Weaving, almost unnoticed, through the crowd, she began delivering her kiss of death to anyone in her way. As the bodies piled up on the dancefloor, it became clear that just like Jason and Medea’s relationship, the night was about to take a dark turn.

And dark it went. Following Jason’s Fleece-loving rise to power in a media-saturated world, live CCTV cameras showed the couple’s home life allowing us to voyeuristically observe their sleeping children and the marital bed – that is until we became those children. Tucked up in bunkbeds with hot chocolate, being read a gruesome bedtime story of our parent’s marriage thus far, my maid stroked my hair while, with closed eyes, my senses tuned into overheard conversations and late night phone calls revealing the unforgivable betrayal that sends Medea truly over the edge.

As the clock approached 4am, the insetting delirium permeated through the hallucinatory final act as Medea exacted her revenge and paid the ultimate Grecian sacrifice of her children until we were reborn into dawn over the Thames. And breakfast.

Despite my efforts, there is truly no way to describe the fervour of these actors and this entire production in creating a completely transformative experience. Brecht’s call to break down that fourth wall is obsolete. He clearly never met Zecora Ura whose determination to not only break boundaries between audience/performer but obliterate them in an explosion of dance, pulsating bass and blood until you emerge confused, trying to find the tube home, wondering why your mother would leave you alone in the frightening reality of life.

But to borrow from The Eagles…you can check in to Hotel Medea but you can never leave. While my fellow 6am tube travellers were undertaking walks of shame or morning commutes, I was filled with a strange sense of calm with the knowledge that part of me might not return from this theatrical orgy that would do Dionysius proud.

Hotel Medea continues on August 6, 7, 13, & 14, from midnight to dawn, at:

Trinity Buoy Wharf
64 Orchard Place
Docklands
E14 0JW

Tickets are available to buy from Arcola Theatre.