Kaos Theory and Reimagining Greek Myths
Watching Jeff Goldblum preen, threaten, and cajole while wearing velour jogging suits in rainbow colors was the thing I didn’t know I needed until I binge-watched the new Netflix series Kaos.
My favorite scene in the show’s first season was the montage of Goldblum, who replaces Hugh Grant in the role of Zeus, calling his adult children and begging them to pick up the phone.
“Hello, Aphrodite?” Goldblum said. “It’s daddy. It’s papa.”
Kaos riffs on TV shows like American Gods, The Good Place, Sandman, and Lucifer. It blends Greek mythology with dark comedy as gods and mortals race to defy, subvert, or fulfill their individual prophecies.
The acting, casting, and set design are superb. However, the plot is more twisted than Ariadne’s labyrinth (more on that later). There are too many characters with interesting premises whose character arcs aren’t fully developed. Nearly every character or character pairing (Riddy and Caeneus, for example) could easily have their own season.
I have loved reading Greek mythology since childhood. As a college freshman, I tried to learn ancient Greek so that I could read Aeschylus’ tragic trilogy, The Oresteia, in its original language. But it was a lofty goal, even for me. I’m familiar with Greek myths, but not enough to know exactly what Kaos was reimagining, reinterpreting, or updating. In other words, the point of the show got lost in translation.
Enthusiastically, I threw myself down the Greek myth rabbit hole. Elektra, marketed as a “spellbinding reimagining of the story of Elektra,” is already in my audiobook library. I pondered buying Saint’s novel about Ariadne because, in Kaos, Ariadne’s story arc represents empowerment, transformation, and the quest for autonomy in a world dominated by authoritarian figures.
In fact, most of the humans in Kaos actively defy the “fate” that their prophesy established for them. Orpheus tries to bring his wife back from the dead. Caeneus, a transgender figure in both Greek myth and in the show, wants love, peace, and acceptance even though their original “contents don’t fit the package,” as Caeneus’ mother says.
While researching the original Greek myths on which Kaos is based, I found a captivating YouTube video essay by Kate Alexandra. In it, Alexandra critiques the (white) feminist retelling of Greek myths. Alexandra introduces three essential ideas for those who write, are inspired by, or consume “reimagining” Greek myths, whether it’s a television show or video game.
Many of the feminist retellings of Greek myths promise to tell the “untold” stories of Greek women who were hidden in the shadows of myths. Alexandra disagrees, as do I. For example, Clytemnestra is a central character of The Oresteia. Clytemnestra’s rage at her husband’s sacrificial murder of their daughter Iphigenia is a central plot point of the Greek tragedy. Clytemnestra isn’t in the shadows. Her voice is loud, clear, and strong.
Ariadne, long associated with labyrinths and mazes, is a story about developing self-reliance after experiencing love and betrayal. She is celebrated as a “Great Goddess of Crete,” honored in Cyprus festivals, and immortalized in dozens of plays, poems, novels, and operas.
The problem with feminist retellings is that they imagine ancient Greek women as if they were white women living in the “West” during the 21st century. The characters in the modern retellings complain that their stories aren’t told and that only stories of men count. If that’s true, then why was Ariadne’s story told as soon as the early Hellenistic (332-167 B.C.E.) period?
As Alexandra explained in her YouTube video essay, it’s like Disney princesses pretending not to be who they are by defying their societal expectations while conforming to the formula of the modern Disney princess.
Alexandra’s third point is most important, especially for Western writers: Are these “feminist reimaginings” a form of cultural appropriation? Critics argued that Greek myths are included in Western classical education and, therefore, belong to “all of us.”
While writing this essay, I researched the number of published Greek women authors compared to their U.S. counterparts. Women account for over 60%of published authors in the United States. I couldn’t find similar numbers for Greek women in publishing. One could argue that I didn’t dig hard enough. One could also argue that contemporary Greek women are still feeling the after-effects of their country’s economic crisis and austerity measures in the 2000s and political underrepresentation as the United States could be poised to elect its first female President.
My arguments and understanding of Alexandra’s critique aren’t about imposing 21st-century “American” feminist values on Greek women (mythic or contemporary). It’s about who has access to the legacy publishing industry and paid for reinterpreting or “reimagining” someone else’s culture, even if knowledge of that culture illustrates sophistication and high intellectualism in some social circles. It’s about more than adopting a “dark academia” aesthetic and reading The Secret History.
A central premise in the television show Kaos is whether we dare to subvert “fate” or unquestioningly bend to it. Perhaps in bending Greek myths to our will – whether the author is Shakespeare or a contemporary feminist – we rob Greek myths of their potency. Nevertheless, watching Jeff Goldblum lose his shit over losing his watch is highly entertaining.