The failures of the Hadestown proshot
It is commonly understood that a proshot (professionally filmed theatrical production) can never recreate the experience of actually being at a musical. The creators of the /Hadestown/ proshot decided to eagerly lean into this fact throughout its production, distinguishing it from other famous proshots (think /Hamilton/) by the freedom it gives the camera. It is defined by sharp cuts, close ups, and even shots of parts of the stage an in-person audience wouldn’t be able to see.
What makes Hadestown great is its universality. Even though it was written in 2006, it feels more relevant to the issues of today than it must have been to an audience 20 years ago, and that feeling is the whole point.
A prime example of this is the wall that Hades — who is presented as an old-timey, Southern industry tycoon — has built around hell/his company town to preserve the “paradise” he has built for his workers. The setting reminded me of Trump’s wall and its rhetoric, as well as Amazon’s creation of modern “company towns.” Since the musical precedes these events, I was forced to reflect and remind myself that demarcating walls, xenophobia, and company towns are not new ideas. According to Hadestown, they are as old as myth itself.
There are countless examples of this, big and small, throughout the musical. By relating Hadestown to our modern problems, the audience of Hadestown inadvertently proves the musical’s own thesis: that the trials of today are echoes of trials passed. This also allows it to present its message of endurance — of “singing it anyways” — more profoundly, since they become connected to the show’s universality.
Hadestown presents a cyclical link from the present to the deep past by using the American South as an aesthetic bridge for modern, western audiences to easily grasp the themes of ancient myth. There are aspects of modernity within the dialogue, but it draws sonically and aesthetically on the Deep South, the Great Depression, the old American railroad, and New Orleans Jazz. To a Western audience, this presentation reflects a nostalgic piece of our cultural ethos. Then, of course, there is the unfamiliar: the ancient Greek myth that the musical retells.
My sense of immersion watching the proshot was unique. It felt like I was being pulled out of my own time. In acts such as “Chant”, I felt as though I had been drawn back into history. The symbolic connections between capitalism, hell, the South and the Great Depression, were not just seen but felt. Most of the time, however, I felt a vague sense of alienation which disrupted my engagement and made me feel like I was not having the full experience.
“Chant” has many glaring examples. Its chorus features about 8 “workers” walking in a circle, crouched down, moving against the musical’s iconic turning stage. As they move, they sing “Oh, keep your head / keep your head low”, a recognizable earworm from the musical. Then Hades sings, but does not come into frame. The camera does not pan out. Instead, the switch back to him is defined by a sharp cut. Because of this, much of the scene’s symbolic impact (Hades preaching about the paradise he’s built while his workers worry and suffer) is lost. Perhaps this, like many of the other cinematographic decisions, works better for those who have seen the musical in person, but in isolation, it only disrupts the experience and reminds the audience that they are in fact in a movie theatre, and this is just a proshot. The emphasis on close-ups also isolates the audience from other aspects of the musical by blocking out the full set, the orchestra, and the lights. Proximity to the characters did not make up for the fact that huge parts of the creative vision for the musical were lost.
There was also a lack of gradual transitions. There were many times where a pan out or a slow shift would suit the scene better than a cut. It felt as if, instead of the shoot being carefully planned, cameras were thoughtlessly installed in different places and the musical was cut and reconstructed in an editing room. In trying to shoot every scene, every solo, every conversation from where the producers felt it would be experienced best, the musical lost a lot of its shape.
Choppy, impersonal editing also contradicts the point of the musical. The timeless, immersive experience of the live show is not just disrupted by bad camera work, but also the modernity that camerawork evokes. The audience is not just reminded they are in a movie theatre, but they are reminded they are in a movie theatre in 2026. The sudden, sharp reminders that what you are watching is filmed did not just disrupt space, but time. The film is undeniably, wholly, an invention of our time.
Although playing into the advantages a film gives you is understandable, the “advantages,” in this case, supersede the message of timelessness the musical tries to deliver. The goal of this proshot should have been to make the necessary film elements as subtle as possible. Other aspects of the musical try to do this: lighting is sparse, with an emphasis on shadow over colour, and technical effects are limited.
While I enjoyed the proshot of Hadestown, I left the theatre with an empty, dissatisfied feeling. While, as acknowledged, there is par for the course with a proshot, it was profound here. When I left the movie theatre, I was not compelled to contemplate on the musical itself, but rather, my own confusion. I had paid attention the whole time, I knew the history of the American South, and was familiar with the myths musical retells, so what had I missed?