Displaying items by tag: Antigone

There’s nothing new about Antigone. Sophocles wrote it in 440BC, and we all read it (under duress) in high school, my most vivid memory of which is Mrs. Thatcher printing ‘ANTIGONE’ on the chalkboard, and Patrick Tyrrell sneaking up to print ‘P’ at the beginning. Recent adaptations have used Antigone to comment on The Patriot Act; have styled the dead Polynices as a terrorist threat and Antigone into a "dangerous subversive;" and as a commentary on the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.

Today, Redtwist Theatre presents a new translation by Anne Carlson, whose “light-fingered, colloquial and cutting” language provides a fresh view of Greek tragedy in the twenty-first century. Her translation makes the entire production not only accessible but topical.

The story is simple. Antigone is sister to Eteocles and Polynices, who led opposing sides in Thebes' civil war and died fighting each other for the throne. Kreon, king of Thebes decrees that Eteocles will be honored while the rebel brother Polynices lies unsanctified on the battlefield. Antigone defies the edict,buries her brother, and argues the immorality of the edict and the morality of her own actions.

Kreon remains intransigent until blind Tiresias prophesies that all of Greece will despise him. Urged on by the terrified Chorus, Kreon finally relents. Too late, of course: Antigone has hanged herself and a grieving Haemon attacks Kreon, then slays himself. Kreon, beside himself with remorse, then learns his wife Eurydice has killed herself. Kreon, a broken man, stumbles away.

So many of the themes portrayed in Antigone speak directly to 2022. It exposes the dangers of the absolute ruler, a king to whom few will speak their true opinions freely and openly– does that ring any bells? Civil disobedience is a major theme: the individual’s right to reject society's infringement on her freedom to perform a personal obligation. Certainly SCOTUS would do well to reflect on this.  Citizenship is also at issue: Kreon holds that citizenship is a contract, and Polynices’ attack on the city revokes his citizenship. For Kreon, as absolute ruler of the state, loyalty to the state comes before family fealty. He is punished by Haemon killing himself when he finds Antigone dead.

Redtwist Theatre is a tiny storefront venue that takes advantage of its close quarters by inviting the audience into the action. Director Christine Freije extends this – at first I thought the various people sweeping the floor and wiping the walls were … I don’t know, maybe being extra-careful about covid cleanliness? until Antigone arrests them by slamming her shovel into the ground.

Antigone, played by Isabel Alamin, beautifully portrays the deeply-committed and doomed woman. When she’s onstage one sees nobody else. Natalie Welber, as her sister Ismene, demonstrates the ambivalence of a law-abiding citizen wrenched from her comfort zone by love of family. Brian Parry paints the spectrum from Kreon’s monarchical obstinacy to the anguish of a bereaved father and husband, and Nick Shank’s Haemon ably depicts filial love eroding under Kreon’s stubbornness. Peter Ferneding brings a welcome injection of humor as Guard. As so often in Greek theatre, Chorus has a big role, and Andrew Bosworth as its leader keeps the story woven together. The remainder of the Chorus played additional roles: Joan Nahid [Euridice], Peter Ferneding [Guard], Maddy Moderhack [Messenger] and Javier Carmona [Teiresias] slid effortlessly from one role to another.

I can’t wait another minute to praise Costume Designer Anna Bodell! I do some sewing myself, and I have to admit I was occasionally diverted from the play’s action by trying to figure out: what is he wearing? and how did she do that?!  Ordinary clothes are pieced together in extraordinary ways, with stunning results.

The stark simplicity of the set and economy of props keeps our focus on the performances, while light and sound preclude a curtain. Director Christine Freije knits it all together seamlessly – and all is made possible by Anne Carlson’s fresh translation.

I loved Antigone – I may go see it again!