Review: Eurydice Waking

St Andrews is a Gothic town. Not only in the sense of the ruinous castles and churches, or fog that envelops the cobbled streets on a winter morning. Something more sinister haunts it, too — your what if, what was, or what could have been. 

Like an itinerant dream — or nightmare — this ‘what if’ graces the Tesco aisles, Boots counter, and library basement. This kind of spectral haunting is an unshakable curse of living within the same three streets for four years. But will you miss your old haunt when you depart, your ‘what if’ separated by arduous journeys across oceans? Do you fantasise about a chance meeting years from now when you’re successful, hot, and happy? 

If so, Eurydice Waking will speak to you. Written and directed by first-year playwriting MFA Leni Turo, the play premiered at the Barron on March 22nd and 23rd. Eurydice follows American writer and recent university graduate Emma, who is living with her long-term girlfriend Annie in London. Although she should be content, Emma is plagued with recurring dreams of encounters with her friend and former flame Sam, whom she hasn’t spoken to in years. 

Audiences witness past and present bend within Emma’s psyche as she grapples with moving forward while trapped by memories — and fantasies — of Sam. Although not explicitly set in St Andrews, Emma and Sam’s ‘what if’ seems deeply emblematic of romance in the bubble. Just as in The Bubble, Emma is still captivated by their toxic dalliance, even years later, hoping it would have led to something more serious. Call out, much!

As a vivid dreamer, aspiring writer, and wistful romantic — who is also gluten-intolerant — I found Emma’s character disturbingly relatable. Sofia Hattiangadi breathed life into the sympathetic yet oft-frustrating protagonist, deftly depicting Emma as she drifted between dream and reality. 

After the show ended, Turo told me she rewrote the play a week after casting to fit each actor’s personalities and backgrounds. This was a unique experience for Hattiangadi: “It was interesting to have conversations about the characters and then see how changes in the script reflected that later on.” Hattiangadi “felt like [she] had a lot of agency with Emma’s character”, which gave an air of authenticity to her on-stage presence. 

Hattiangadi was supported by Lila Patterson as Annie, who brilliantly captured the anguish of loving someone still hung up on someone else. Although both actors excelled in their respective roles, Annie and Emma’s relationship lacked a spark. Instead of witnessing a relationship dissipate over an old haunt, the blocking and physical interactions between the two elicited a stressed partnership lacking chemistry. 

Henry Farmer shone as the charismatic but chronically unavailable Sam. The crux of the play rests on buying that Emma would remain so hung up on a noncommittal tease. Yet, skillful delivery made Sam’s schtick believable — and his charm on stage mended the gaps in his character’s shallow characterisation.  

The climax of the show was a memory of an incident in which Emma could have kissed Sam, but hesitated. She craves that, like Orpheus, Sam would have turned back to kiss her, rather than leave his Eurydice in the dark – emotionally, that is. We then see Emma’s memory diverge from reality and into one where the two actually kiss, equally romantic and tragic. 

In the original myth, Orpheus’s love for Eurydice is what dooms her. He turns around out of pure love and profound concern, a haunting motif that doesn’t reflect Emma and Sam’s ‘will they won’t they’ dynamic. We know that Sam didn’t actually turn around for Emma, as if he did, she wouldn’t have the life she leads in the play’s present day. 

I wish the play had ended with this quandary. Instead, we witness Emma, Annie, and Sam at a house party years later, where Emma must choose between the two. Then, the play closes as Emma turns to see both her former loves standing in the flesh, having just called her name. 

Up to the play’s conclusion, Sam has existed only in Emma’s memory, so he is not a fully fleshed-out character. In Emma’s recollection from University, Sam is characterised as ‘disadvantaged’ with no indication other than a Northern accent and a Carhartt jacket. Through her simple depiction of Sam, the American writer’s limited understanding of English classicism is made obvious. Previously, Sam’s lack of dimensionality could have been chalked up to Emma’s own biases as an American in the UK — a more interesting read.

I chatted with Henry Farmer, who played Sam, after the play, and I was curious as to whether he thought Emma should have picked Annie or Sam. “I don’t think she should pick either,” he shared, as “neither relationship nor ‘almost’ relationship was overly functional.” Hattiangadi shared a similar perspective: “It’s definitely up for interpretation” as “there’s a lot of positive stuff in both relationships, even if they’re [both] a bit toxic.” In my opinion, the ending missed the mark by concluding with the tired trope of ‘who will she choose?’

“[…] If Emma had to choose one, then Annie,” Farmer answered, after I pressed further. For audience members with the same opinion, Eurydice Waking was surely a frustrating show to sit through. Obviously, you too would pick the mature, caring, supportive relationship — right? 

Ultimately, Annie is real; Sam is not, really. The audience watches as Annie unfurls and breaks down; meanwhile, in Emma’s dreams, Sam remains composed and cute. Isn’t it easier to imagine yourself with someone you don’t, or can’t, fully know? Instead of confronting the messy realities of adult relationships, you can escape to an alternate reality— only inhibited by the limits of your imagination. So, if — like me, shamefully — you would have run to Sam, you would have found this a beautifully bittersweet watch, but also a confrontation with your toxic traits. 

Eurydice Waking highlights illogicalisms of the heart, offering a meditation on the pains and pleasures of young love. Eurydice sends a message to us St Andrews students — a necessary wakeup call to explore those pesky ‘what ifs’ now, as regret can be as painful as heartbreak. That way, you can ride off into the sunset with your loving and successful lesbian partner come graduation.

Photos courtesy of Fraser Gemmell