Directed by acclaimed playwright Samuel Rees, Snakehead is a palatable piece of gig-theatre, offering a refreshing re-examination of the Greek mythology tale, Medusa.
Over the generations, the story of Medusa depicts the snake-haired woman as a monster, with a vengeance against men. It is often neglected, and arguably less widely known, that Medusa was cursed with this punishment because of Poseidon and his obsessive desires towards her. Snakehead delivers a spin on this classic tale, forcing us to unpick those nestled perceptions of Medusa, and to reflect on society’s treatment of women as a whole.
Hosted in the condensed upstairs space of The Hope Theatre in Islington, London, and with low lighting, the venue is intimate and inviting. Two rows of seating are aligned along each wall, creating an aisle for the stage where only a microphone and stand are visible. Max Alexander-Taylor, performer and co-musical director, stands at the opposite end with his tech gadgets and guitar in hand – and synthesizer sounds begin.
Aside from Alexander-Taylor, Snakehead is a one-woman show that follows M (played by Sian Maxwell) and her retelling of her summer romance. M is a small-town girl, a ‘commoner’, from the depths of East Anglia, who is disillusioned by her surroundings and the lack of possibilities it holds. She yearns for more. M soon encounters a London boy and becomes infatuated by him – he is mysterious, intelligent, ridiculously wealthy, and to reiterate, from London! M is mesmerized at the potential of the relationship, and we slowly see the two worlds collide. As their connection develops, Snakehead unravels a story of vulnerability, betrayal, and seizing back your power.
Snakehead sheds light on the male gaze and its harmful consequences – how one act can cause a ripple effect. This is cleverly captured in the spotlighting and Maxwell’s penetrating stares at members of the audience. Simultaneously, the play delivers an apt political commentary on the disparity of the classes (notably the rich and poor), exploring one example out of the millions of those who fall victim to the unrelenting grasps of power.
However, whilst Snakehead is a stimulating anecdote with topical observations, it is not without its comical elements. Rees incorporates amusing stereotypes, ‘Gen-Z’ references, and subtle Medusa allusions, most of which did not go unnoticed by the intrigued audience.
Maxwell’s acting scenes are broken up with her musical performances (also joined on stage by Alexander-Taylor), truly putting on a show. Snakehead sees its own original set list, composed by Max Welton – a fusion of dark punk and electronic pop sounds that echo the protagonist’s mental state. An entrancing and creative concoction that elevates this theatre piece to an immersive experience.
Maxwell delivers an enthralling performance, commanding the space throughout. By the end of the show, no doubt, all eyes were certainly on her.
If you are looking to liven up a summer evening with a bit of music and some food for thought, Snakehead is the perfect tonic. Be warned though, it may leave you feeling a little stony.
Snakehead is on now at the Hope Theatre, Islington.
