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I don't think I will be able to see this play - I would probably find it very strange to see it in English, as Phèdre is one of my favourite plays by Racine (even though it's a Ted Hughes translation...).
To anyone who's seen it: how does Helen Mirren play the character? Is she very passionate about her love for Hippolytus, or is she playing it in a very calm, subdued fashion?
The only time I saw it on stage, Carole Bouquet was playing Phèdre, and she had chosen the latest attitude - arguing that after all, Phèdre is dying, consummated by her passion and guilt, and that she can't be climbing up the wall.

As a result... I found the play dead boring (no pun intended ). I know Phèdre is doomed, but still, she embodies passion. The speech where she confesses her love to Hippolytus is one if the most beautiful of French theatre.

Oui, Prince, je languis, je brûle pour Thésée.
Je l'aime, non point tel que l'ont vu les enfers,
Volage adorateur de mille objets divers,
Qui va du Dieu des morts déshonorer la couche,
Mais fidèle, mais fier, et même un peu farouche,
Charmant, jeune, traînant tous les cœurs après soi,
Tel qu'on dépeint nos Dieux, ou tel que je vous voi.
Il avait votre port, vos yeux, votre langage,
Cette noble pudeur colorait son visage,
Lorsque de notre Crète il traversa les flots,
Digne sujet des vœux des filles de Minos.
Que faisiez-vous alors ? Pourquoi sans Hippolyte
Des héros de la Grèce assembla-t-il l'élite ?
Pourquoi, trop jeune encor, ne pûtes-vous alors
Entrer dans le vaisseau qui le mit sur nos bords ?
Par vous aurait péri le monstre de la Crète,
Malgré tous les détours de sa vaste retraite.
Pour en développer l'embarras incertain,
Ma sœur du fil fatal eût armé votre main.
Mais non, dans ce dessein je l'aurais devancée ;
L'amour m'en eût d'abord inspiré la pensée.
C'est moi, Prince, c'est moi dont l'utile secours
Vous eût du Labyrinthe enseigné les détours.
Que de soins m'eût coûtés cette tête charmante !
Un fil n'eût point assez rassuré votre amante.
Compagne du péril qu'il vous fallait chercher,
Moi-même devant vous j'aurais voulu marcher ;
Et Phèdre au Labyrinthe avec vous descendue
Se serait avec vous retrouvée, ou perdue.

The way her description shifts from Theseus's to Hippolytus's is made a chant by the perfect rhythm, especially the last four verses that lock Phèdre up in her own madness. I probably sounds like a nerd, but I just love reading that out loud.

I had to translate it from Latin into French once - it was very easy as the French version is almost the literal translation from the Latin one, and I'm very familiar with this play.

I've always found it amazing how playwrights like Racine, who have to deal with the most rigid set of rules ever, manage to write such gut-wrenching texts. It's actually the minute use of these rules that make their texts so perfect. And the characters are so weak and yet so sublime - like Hermione in Andromaque, another one of my Racine favourites.

I know what she meant I'll try and explain it as clearly as I can...
Lines are coupled, rime-wise (it's the aabb pattern). One couple of lines is going to end with a sound that has 'e' in it : farouche / couche, for instance. There are feminine rimes.
Masculine rimes are when there is no 'e' sound at the end of the last word : alors / mort.
These feminine / masculine endings have to alternate in classic poetry.
You can check it in the piece I quoted, it works perfectly. Of course

We were taught to respect the rhythm of alexadrines when reading poetry out loud at Uni. Ever since, I've enjoyed reading poetry out loud just for the sake of finding the perfect rhythm, the one that conveys exactly the feelings expressed through the words. Sometimes it can be tricky as you can read a line in different ways - and you find out the feelings are slightly different according to your interpretation.