The Penelopiad Review: Margaret Atwood's predictable female rage, with an epic sense of creativity
14 October 2026 | 19:00 | York Theatre Royal
⭐⭐⭐ | PR - Invite
I'm very partial to York Theatre Royal as one of my favourite venues, and one of the smaller regional producing houses. Even the walls of the auditorium are sculpted with a Grecian architectural quality, which is befitting for their autumn production of The Penelopiad.
First premiering at the RSC's Swan Theatre in 2007, Booker Prize-winner Margaret Atwood adapts her novella into a chamber-style play, marking the author's only theatrical embark. Audiences are offered a feminist re-telling of Homer's The Odyssey, centred on Penelope and her silenced chorus of maids.
Penelope is the devoted wife to the King of Ithaca Odysseus: strategist and warrior in the decade-long Trojan War. Except she was left home, weaving and unpicking... weaving again. That is until her husband finally returns home. And this is the chance for Penelope to spin a different kind of thread, exposing the injustices against all of the women left behind, placing myth dangerously close to reality.
For those who have seen Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey in cinemas, this is a subversion of the commercialised story you may be familiar with. I'm personally yet to have seen it, but as a mythology nerd, The Penelopiad makes for quite the experimental turn. There lies a contemporary semblance to Greek theatre, with a company of eight supporting actresses taking on the 'chorus'.
The show opens with a monologue from Penelope, as Amelia Bullmore's lead performance feels surprisingly down-to-earth, breaking the fourth wall as often seen in women's fiction. She exists on a reflective, bare white stage (designed by Sara Perks), which manifests as an ambiguous yet serene afterlife. Bullmore maintains a regality through the evening, whose mature presence gives a wounded, lived experience to Penelope.
Set pieces including a bed and platforms are suspended by red rope, each descending from above the stage. This rope acts as a repeated motif, culminating in the powerful image of Penelope's maids hung in a piercing tableaux, where the blood of innocent women holds the afterlife together.
Bullmore's confidence naturally anchors as our witty, reliable narrator, though her non-traditional chorus of maids is where the production becomes sticky. They do not share the conventions of a standard Grecian chorus: they often speak in dialogue with mixed rhythms, and are highly character-based. But do lead musical numbers, from laments to jazz-Charleston. They each put on a series of accents and costumes, like playing make-believe in a playground. Their first entrance is slightly bizarre, almost like a prison gym (à la Legally Blonde's Whipped Into Shape) with skipping ropes and trapeze acts.
Tonight, where The Penelopiad lacks is in precision and finesse. Due to the women's anarchic attitude, ensemble scenes can be shouty and theatrically untidy. Act Two sees Penelope lead her maids in weaving a burial shroud with giant threads of red fabric. In theory, this promises a beautiful sequence as they step over/under one another to create this big tapestry. Although being seemingly improvised, their lack in confidence shows, with the occasional giggle and panicked glance escaping when it doesn't work.
This aside, Juliet Forster's direction holds some exceptional stage images. Between giant shadow battles and the most mesmerising puppetry for Penelope's son Telemachus, the play's sense of flow and storytelling is clear, in keeping with the epic-ness of Homer's original poem.
The Penelopiad falls into the feminist trope of characterising male roles with a strange satirical edge, as the women of the cast speak like prepubescent jocks. The ambition to reclaim women's voice is evident, though at the extent of humouring misogynistic behaviour, this reduces its more serious tones. Some of Atwood's lines really stick with me, especially that of a 15-year-old Penelope being passed around 'like a package of meat' to be wed. But when following scenes see a tragic mask placed over the pelvic area with heavy thrusting, the impact of such lines are diminished.
It does make me consider whether the story is better suited to its original novella. The play is episodic and dramatically stunted, building and peaking until the idea is abandoned, then starting afresh on a new tangent. But when its at its best, Forster's production really thrives. In Act Two, the chorus come together to sing Dreamboats, a harmonious ballad as the maids dream of escaping the unforgiving sexual objectifications and rape of lower class women. So tender and resonant in how it touches the audience; to paraphrase Penelope's exit speech, why come back into this world when there is still so much fear?
To see a stage revival of The Penelopiad is rare. The play maintains its polarising nature first seen in Stratford-upon-Avon debut almost two decades ago. Atwood's script is a predictable take on female rage, that unnecessarily flexes the name of almost every character in Greek mythology at some moment. But its design and creative exploration are exemplary, making this a piece of theatre to remember.
Running at York Theatre Royal until 31st October: https://www.yorktheatreroyal.co.uk/show/the-penelopiad/
