Echoes from the Dionysus: Why We Chose Greek Tragedy for Our Next Production
Guess who’s back, back, back again.
After two successfully sold-out productions, Krystal and I are officially putting in the work for a brand-new play. New style. New characters. New everything. Thanks to a generous grant from DC CAH, we are bringing a Greek play to the stage. Well… let’s call it "Greek-ish."
With Oedipus currently ending its run on Broadway, the Greek style is having a massive moment. So, what better way to tell the story of a co-dependent mother and daughter duo living in a tragic America? (Let’s be real: that last part requires zero imagination.) When we set out to tell this story, we didn’t just want a modern drama; we wanted to tap into something ancient, raw, and unavoidable.
The Weight of the "Mask"
Last semester, I completed a traumatizing yet enlightening Greek tragedy course at Studio Acting Conservatory. Now, to be clear: our instructor—the incredible actress and director Kate—did not traumatize us. She is knowledgeable, curious, patient, and dynamic (iykyk).
However, the nature of performing tragedy requires you to get in touch with your deepest human emotions, which is inherently traumatizing. Who is actually out here trying to know themselves that deeply? Me. I’m doing it. I live for the drama.
That class was so powerful that I think I finally unlocked my inner Viola Davis. I felt transformed—like I had been freed from "performing" and led into "being." In my time studying and performing in The Bacchae, I became obsessed with how Greek tragedy handles personal pain. It doesn’t hide it or apologize for it. It puts that pain on a pedestal, gives it a mask, and forces the audience to look it right in the eye.
The Mother-Daughter Cosmic Collision
In our play, we’re looking at a mother and daughter at a crossroads. It’s like if Antigone and Ismene were reimagined, but Antigone was the mother.
In a standard modern setting, their issues might look like a simple disagreement. But in a Greek style, it becomes a cosmic collision. Their codependency isn’t just a "bad habit"—it’s their Hamartia (their fatal flaw). One is desperate for joy; the other is consumed by the need to work. They need each other to survive, but they’re suffocating in the process.
Why This Style?
We chose the Greek framework for three specific reasons:
• The Crossroads: Just like Oedipus, our characters are at a fixed point where every choice leads right back to the person they are trying to escape.
• The Inevitability: Tragedy teaches us that we often meet our destiny on the road we take to avoid it. For a mother and daughter who are "too close," that destiny is often each other.
• The Chorus: In our script, the Chorus represents the "outside noise"—the media, the social pressure, and those nagging internal voices that tell us we aren't doing enough.
Keeping the Tragedy Alive (and Televised)
Tragedy isn't just for the history books or dusty libraries. We all have those "Bacchanalian" moments of losing control or those "Penthean" moments of trying way too hard to keep things in order.
Because we want you to see the blood, sweat, and tears that go into creating something this heavy, we’re doing something a little different. We’re filming the entire process. Think of it as a reality show for the stage—a behind-the-scenes look at two creators navigating the highs and lows of bringing a Greek tragedy to life in DC.
Stay tuned. It’s about to get very real, very fast.