Medea as a Greek tragedy is a cathartic, stimulating work that challenges directors, actors and audience. The Almeida’s new production brings the story to a contemporary setting, casting a new shadow onto this classic tale.

Revolving around the divorce between actor and writer, Rachel Cusk’s new adaptation parallels aspects of her own life. At moments the story can seem too personal to Cusk’s life, but throughout the production this adds warmth and knowledge to the characters; there is a new life in the script and we are engrossed in the modern adaptation as we see her two sons, confused and clueless, muddling through their divorce. Additionally, Cusk makes a point of the themes of justice, power and feminism, without bombarding an already knowledgeable audience, and remains loyal to the original Medea. One of the most noticeable contemporary additions to the script is its relationship with the perception of women, especially when they have children. The other characters look down on Medea for continuing to work, disapproving of her necessity to write and not give her children all her attention. Cusk makes an inevitably important point here: in a modern society we cannot define a woman by being a child-bearer and we cannot expect her to give up her livelihood, which we are becoming excepting of in a society. However, we cannot condemn those to choose to become full-time parents either, as I feel Cusk has does slightly in this production.

Rupert Goold’s direction similarly brings a new life to this show. Greek tragedies are hard to do well and immediately I’m struck by the cleverness of the slanted stage, designed by Ian MacNeil, that gives a looming uneasiness to the whole production. The ensemble is used with haunting, stylised physicality with the image of five clingy, disapproving stay-at-home mums, whose children are cared for with endless devotion. It is an inventive idea that works with the themes of the play and the whole concept.

A production like this needs a leading lady – and boy, do they have a leading lady. Kate Fleetwood offers the uneasiness, bitterness and fire behind Medea’s final actions. The idea of murder is embedded early on and we can see Medea’s confliction and madness weaving itself into the action. With the two impressively young children by her side – Louis Sayers and Guillermo Bedward, who exude innocence – we can see this family crumbling apart.

This play doesn’t give the Greek cathartic effect, though. I didn’t feel for Medea as a mother, and actually sided with her ex-husband in this case. The affection towards her children is lacking, showing minimal moments of love and tenderness making it all to easy to see her justification for the result. To this extent, the trauma and power behind the outcome of the play does not reach its full potential. The final moments of the play do not bring any maddening horror and I felt entirely untouched, spoiling the concept for me. The reporting messenger is dressed half-man and half-woman, which makes an important point, resembling the force and confliction but relationship between the two sexes. The final speech is delivered impressively but without the terror, and there is no way to salvage the end of the production.

This play could be phenomenal with the direction, language and concept all neatly intertwined. Unfortunately, the final moments of the play spoils the whole thing for me and, in a way, makes the Greek tragedy futile. With no cathartic feeling or element, these tragedies wouldn’t exist.

Medea is playing at the Almeida Theatre until 14 November. For more information and tickets, see the Almeida Theatre website.