Jordan Muschler is a director and playwright who graduated from Oberlin in 2023 with a B.A. in Theater and has already brought his studies into the professional realm. His play Calypso recently premiered at the Rivendell Theatre in Chicago. The play, which began as Muschler’s senior capstone project, reimagines The Odyssey’s nymph who kept Odysseus on her island for seven years, complete with a folk music soundtrack. Muschler discusses the enduring appeal of Greek myths, life after college, and the new Oberlin-founded company, Village Theater, in Chicago. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

How has Calypso changed since it was a senior capstone project, and how has it stayed the same?

The least developed character in the original version was Odysseus. He’s not the main character in this. It involves three characters, and I wanted each of them to have a fuller arc and a fuller understanding in their relationships. Calypso has gotten weirder. I’ve leaned into her insanity and loneliness more and more as the show has gone on. In the original production, there were three songs that were performed in Act 1 and two in Act 2. The only song that stayed intact the entire time is the one at the end. In this new version that’s being done in Chicago, pretty much every scene has a song. The songs are shorter as a result. They’re more ideas than a full song you’d listen to on Spotify. But the idea of mythology as connected to folk music was central from the start. The way that folk songs are performed as a story that’s told over and over again connects to mythology, which is a similar thing, a story we tell over and over again and get a different thing out of each time.

Greek mythology adaptations seem especially popular these days. Why do you think that is?

I think it’s probably due to Percy Jackson a little bit, and us growing up with that. But I think the reason that we return to these stories is that they are pretty simple at the end of the day, and there are a lot of different ways we can interpret why someone did something. If you look at Orpheus and Eurydice — spoiler — the idea of Orpheus turning back to look at Eurydice and trapping her there, you can interpret why he does that in a number of ways. In Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice (2003), Eurydice calls out to him because she wants to stay in the underworld with her father who died. It’s a play about grief and missing your dad and wanting to stay with him in the underworld. In Hadestown (2006), it’s totally different from that. There are a lot of different ways that you can interpret the stories and read yourself into a character. I think a lot of Greek reimaginings are about that.

What lessons have you learned since graduating from Oberlin two years ago?

I think a lot of my time at Oberlin was about the art. My time in the real world has become a lot about learning the science that goes into making the art happen, which is tricky. That’s not to say I didn’t learn some of that at Oberlin, especially from Eric Steggall, the managing director for Theater, Dance, and Opera. Arts Management was a great class and taught me a lot about the actual practical things in the world. But I also think that’s such a valuable resource that I’m extremely grateful for, because it’s so rare for you to just be able to hone your craft as an artist and not worry about also having to pay rent at the same time. My collaborators are still the people I met at Oberlin. Emily, my friend and the director of this Chicago production, is one that I met at Oberlin as an actor. I stayed in touch with her because I think she’s brilliant. That’s another great resource that Oberlin has given me in the real world: the connections I have in the Midwest where we both are now, or if I go to New York or anywhere. Obies are everywhere, which is great.

For the Chicago production of Calypso, you’re working with the company Village Theater, which is Oberlin-founded. How is that going?

I think the Village’s mission as they’re emerging as a theater company is fantastic. It’s their second play, so it’s partially about just getting their feet on the ground and starting to find an audience. That means they don’t have the biggest budget in the world. It’s a black box production. Their mission is that it takes a village, and it’s community-oriented. Every single one of their shows has a community partner involved. In this production of Calypso, they teamed up with a nonprofit dedicated to giving music to underserved communities and people who are not normally given access to music, connecting to the theme of the play where at the very beginning of the show Calypso is given an instrument that she’s never had before. She wants to make music and just doesn’t have the resources to. That organization they partnered with is present at every single show. You can talk with them at intermission and after. Usually, people’s second shows are more just like, “Are we gonna have enough money to finish the costumes?” The fact that they’re actually reaching out to people is really special and shows you that Emily and Clara and everyone involved in that organization — quite a few who are Obies — really care about the work and are doing great things with it.

What’s been your experience making connections and finding community outside Oberlin, whether on the art or business side?

I honestly hate the word “networking.” I think it’s a word that gets thrown around a lot. Sure, I network. But I don’t see it that way. I see it as just talking and connecting with people and making friends. I think that everything is about connections, and that can be scary. But I also think the optimistic way that I like to view in my head is that it’s just about making a lot of friends with people and reaching out. I emailed random professionals around town and said, “Can I talk with you about your job for an hour?” I just introduce myself, talk a little bit about what I do, and come prepared with a lot of questions about what they do and advice they have. Don’t be scared to ask questions of people. I think the most interesting person is an interested person.