Phèdre
A lean, high-tension version of a classic tragedy.
The myth of Phaedra is one of the most powerful in all of classical mythology. As dramatized by the French playwright Jean Racine (1639-99), the dying Queen's obsessive love for her stepson, Hippolytus, and the scrupulously upright Hippolytus' love for the forbidden beauty Aricia has come to be known as one of the great stories of tragic infatuation, a tale of love strong enough to bring down a kingdom.
In this "tough, unrhyming avalanche of a translation" (Paul Taylor, The Independent), Hughes replaces Racine's alexandrines with an English verse that serves eloquently to convey the passions of his protagonists. The translation was performed to acclaim in London in 1998, and the London production, starring Diana Rigg, was staged in 1999 at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
"We are still catching up with Ted Hughes's gift for narrative verse after his Tales from Ovid," one English critic observed after the London premiere. "Little needs to happen on stage when there's a swirling action-packed disaster movie-riddled with sex and violence-in Hughes's free verse."
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Community Reviews
I read Phèdre in its original French, but I will write my reflections in English for clarity ( given the platform we're on )
Racine’s Phèdre is a masterpiece of linguistic elegance and rhythmic precision. The beauty of its alexandrines, the refinement of its diction, and the musicality of its phrasing together form a work that exemplifies the peak of French classical tragedy.
It is worth reflecting on how modern audiences often demand originality, decrying remakes, retellings, sequels, and prequels as uncreative — yet, in Racine’s time, the reuse of ancient myths and tales was not only accepted but celebrated. The myth of Phèdre and Hippolyte had already inspired multiple contemporaneous adaptations, including that of Pradon, staged almost simultaneously with Racine’s. In that sense, Phèdre is less an “original” story than a masterful reinterpretation.
Racine’s most notable choice lies in his decision to center the tragedy on Phèdre herself rather than Hippolyte. By doing so, he transforms a mythological episode into a psychological study — one that explores desire, guilt, and the human struggle between passion and virtue.
However, one element in Racine’s adaptation remains difficult to accept: the ease with which Thésée — a hero who braved hundreds of threats, braved the Underworld and returned alive — believes ( without given it a second though) a servant’s accusation against his own son. This credulity seems inconsistent with both his legendary stature and basic human judgment. Racine attempts to justify this narrative change from Euripides’ version by asserting that slander (la délation) would be unworthy of a queen and thus more plausible coming from a servant. This reasoning, however, betrays a certain social elitism typical of his time — a notion that virtue and truth belong to the upper classes.
Racine’s intent was to cast Phèdre in an ambiguous moral light, oscillating between guilt and victimhood, yet this alteration slightly undermines the internal logic of the play. From a psychological standpoint, it would have been more convincing for Thésée to trust his wife’s words over those of a "mere" servant, which would also align more with his own perception of hierarchy.
Nevertheless, Phèdre remains a powerful work of tragic art — an exploration of forbidden desire framed within the rigid moral codes of the classical age. Its language, form, and emotional depth continue to captivate readers more than three centuries later.
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