What if the Underworld is not a distant, sunless place across the ocean, on the edge of the West, as Homer defined it? What if you didn’t have to cross the rough waters of Acheron to get to the Gate? If you just had to pass through the car park gate of the Old Elefsina oil mill, walk a few meters down a gravel road and stand in front of the spectacular entrance of the Specter Hotel? How likely is it that Hades will look like a luxurious house in ruins?

“The idea of ​​the hotel has been in my head since the 90s. I was looking for a space that could accommodate such an idea,” explains Yiannis Huvardas “K”, who is trying to read the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice differently. Therefore, there, in the common areas of a ghost hotel with wooden lining, a chandelier thrown on the floor, a lobby with old velvet seats, the Greek director, who also signs the original text, invites us to experience his inglorious love. about a mythical couple picking up the story from where it all ended, from the dark and dark corners of Hades, just before the two lovers came into the light.

“Secret 76. Don’t Look Back,” as the play is called, can mean different things to everyone. “Ideally, I would like it to remain open to interpretation by every viewer. It means not going back, not wasting your energy on the past, looking forward, taking risks to move forward and, on the other hand, resisting the order, breaking it, going back,” notes Yiannis Huvardas.

“Hotels are places somewhere in between, you stay in them, but you don’t live in them, they always hint at a transition. You are a passer-by and an unknown, often lonely.”

As I wait for the rehearsal to begin, I think that the traveling performance presented as part of the Eleusis Capital of Culture for 2023 is about all the “ifs” that consume us, about the decisions or dilemmas that doom love to the illusory, unredeemed, for all those reckless or impulsive actions that constantly rush through our mind in a painful loop.

At the entrance to the room we are met by Dimitris Papanikolaou in a dusty red cloak in the role of Charon. He does not pretend to be a boatman, but a porter, he is kind to everyone, although somewhat distant, like a shadow. He “recognizes” some of the visitors, scolds Kirby – Cerberus – who is barking wildly, tells him to shut up because he’s disturbing the new arrivals, and continues his monologue.

We are standing at the front desk now. The space is dimly lit. Suddenly, two secretaries appear, ready to serve. There is no record of the chthonic god, but there is a guest book. Our record will be registered. Above the heads of Apostolis Totsikas and Ioanna Kolliopulou, who play the staff at the reception, there would normally be an inscription reception. Now all that’s left is RE, that Latin prefix for repetition. Orpheus and Eurydice in time, countless versions of them, different – all tragic – endings of a love that leaves both sides betrayed. All couples seem to be stuck in the defining moment of their relationship.

“They return to the event that haunted them, wanting to put an end to these loops,” comments Hector Lygyzos, who plays one of the seven Orpheus we meet during the play. But why is all this happening in a hotel? What is the rationale for this choice? “Hotels have a special role in our imagination, they always create images, emotions, memories, expectations, sensations… These are places somewhere “in the middle”, you stay there, but you don’t live, it’s necessary or a dreamy stay, they always hint at a transition or return or flight. You are a passer-by and an unknown, often lonely,” explains Eri Kirgiya, who collaborated in dramaturgy. “In a sense, life itself is a hotel, a place that takes us only for a while, then we leave, others come to live in the “rooms” and so the hotel called “life” goes on with the other tenants. It equalizes us, makes us all the same,” he adds.