
John Stachula, Ebby Barber, Claire Banks, Catie Johnson, and Kate James in Eurydice (photo by Miranda Richards)
Directed by Daniel Hale and beautifully written by Sarah Ruhl, Eurydice is now playing in the studio theatre at St. Ambrose University. and this production offers a theatrical treat to warm your heart.
Ruhl's play gives us the mythical saga of Eurydice (Ebby Barber), who, as the tale has been told for thousands of years, is whisked away to the underworld. Her husband Orpheus (Zach Ulmer) stops at nothing to get her back, going so far as to travel to the land of the dead. A deal is made allowing him to bring her home, but only if he walks all the way back to the land of the living without laying eyes on her. It’s nice to know that even millennia ago people had to deal with those pesky Terms and Conditions.
As the story goes here, it’s both modern and classic. There are trains without wheels or steam and a raining elevator. There’s magic and a Greek chorus composed of stones. It’s also something beyond modern and classic – something that I struggle to put a word on, because defining it feels unfair to the material. Eurydice is wholly unique and entirely unpredictable.
The underworld is plagued with a lack of memory. As souls descend, they forget almost everything about their prior lives: what a book is; how to read; even the very meaning of words. Eurydice is welcomed to her new home by her long deceased Father (John Stachula). He tries to connect with her but struggles, as she doesn’t know what a “father” is. She's told, “It’s like the tree in your backyard.” Or even what love is. “Sitting in the shade.” The way in which Ruhl uses words is magnificent, and it’s a treat to hear the actors lean into how weird and strange everything is.

If the play's “human” characters are Eurydice, Orpheus, and Father, then our “unworldly” characters are the Little Stone (Claire Banks), the Big Stone (Kate James), the Loud Stone (Catie Johnson), and the Lord of the Underworld (Rylan Moore). One of the many things I enjoyed about this show was how Hale’s direction gave everyone the space to highlight their unique strengths as performers. And even more importantly, the entire cast looked like they were having a blast, and their energy was downright infectious. Truly, everyone here does a great job and puts their own spin on the material. Yet beyond his guidance of the actors, Eurydice's director delivers some genuinely clever theatrical magic that I wouldn’t dare spoil. I lift my cap to Hale, who had both me and my wife saying “Oh, wow” at several points throughout Friday’s opening night.
Also worth lauding are the technical elements, which are uniformly superb. Aaron Hook’s scenic design encompasses the entire theatre, with pipes, spigots, and holes in the walls holding secrets that are unveiled over the course of the show. The lighting design, also by Hook, is gorgeous, utilizing LED bulbs that fill the ceiling and accentuate the mood and tone of all the ghostly locales. Bradley Robert Jensen’s costume design is also among his best yet, with clever uses of color (or lack thereof) and ongoing updates to each character's look. But by far, the highlight of the evening’s performance was Hale’s majestic sound design. It wouldn’t be a tale about Orpheus the musician without music, and there is so much that is wonderfully employed here.
And it’s not just the song selections that tell the story; it’s how the songs are presented. In one early moment, we see Orpheus' and Eurydice’s wedding. We hear the music they dance to. Then the sound becomes distorted, muffled, like you’re hearing it from a great distance away, and we see Eurydice’s father dancing alone in the underworld, wishing he were there. There’s also the ongoing motif of water, and the sound of water accompanies most scenes. Be it the rolling tides of the ocean or the distant drip of water in some vast cave, we’re never far from it.

Although I did say I don’t want to give too much away, I do want to highlight one scene that’s probably going to stick with me for years to come. Eurydice has demanded a place to stay in her new deathly locale, and her Father obliges. For several minutes, we see Stachula construct her a room out of nothing but twine and the various pipes and outcroppings of the theatre. His actions are accompanied by nothing but the meditative echo of dripping water. In other hands, this scene could be mind-numbingly dull, but here, I felt myself holding my breath. That so much care and love could be conveyed with so much silence is a sight to behold.
That’s what Eurydice is ultimately about: love. Love between spouses, between parents and children, and the love that those in power hold exclusively for themselves. It’s a surreal and captivating experience that I almost wish I could forget, just so I could attend the show again and be surprised all over. Maybe the underworld is onto something.
Eurydice runs in the studio theatre of St. Ambrose University's Galvin Fine Arts Center (2101 North Gaines Street, Davenport IA) through November 23, and more information and tickets are available by calling (563)333-6251 and visiting the event's Facebook page.






