Medea by Robin Robertson

This version of Euripides' powerful meditation on exile and gender is somewhat pointless, since it rarely strays from the text and reads with little more poetry than the Penguin Classic. Robin Robertson brings nothing new to Medea: the difficult issues, the unresolved tensions, the artificial philosophical debates are all Euripides' gifts. Medea is a great play, refusing to give easy answers - it has been interpreted as both a feminist and a misogynistic play, racist and ant-racist - but Robertson's lame introduction and solid translation do little to expose any hidden depths. This is a workmanlike edition, suitable for school study or no-frills productions, making few concessions to either modern language or theatre. As Robertson points out, Euripides' characters do feel modern, simply because the author imbues heroic figures with recognisable human attributes. In production, the staged arguments are masterpieces of tension and Medea can be blistering, a full-bore assault on the sensibilities, switching perspectives and sympathies at a rapid clip. As a read it is stilted, demanding imagination and knowledge about the mythological context. Robertson dutifully supplies this, but never manages to make the verse fly. Confronted by one of the greatest texts of drama, which has inspired and frustrated actors and poets, and challenged the values of ancient and modern civilisation, Robertson has ground out another unremarkable translation. While it is as good as any, and probably easier to read than some of the more archaic versions, it is a dull creative reply to Euripides' blast. [Gareth Vile].