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Antigone
At the Playhouse until 26th September
Sophocles' tragedy of misguided heroism and misdirected
loyalty is given its full potential this week at The Playhouse. Declan
Donnellan, who also directs the production, has written a new version
of the classic which remains true to the original while successfully
giving the dialogue a subtle modern context. The guard's brillintly
mundane honesty when he exclaims 'that's what fate's all about Sir,
innit' is an appropriate reflection of the character who would rather
be in the pub that facing the king, while Antigone occasionally expresses
herself with all the bolshy stubbornness of the most difficult of
teenagers.
Antigone and Ismene are the daughters of Oedipus and his mother Jocasta.
One brother, Polynices, is killed attacking while the other brother,
Eteocles, is killed defending Thebes, the city ruled by their uncle
Creon (Jonathan Hyde). Creon refuses to bury Polynices, whom he considers
a traitor, while he gives Eteocles all the honour of a Greek burial.
Antigone refuses to accept the ruthlessness of Creon's injunction
and determines to bury her brother.
Antigone, played by Tara Fitzgerald, is by no means a simple figure,
arousing both sympathy at her plight and revulsion at her fanaticism
and, we begin to realise, her selfishness. 'Keep out of my death'
she savagely commands Ismene (Anne Calder-Marshall), revealing the
single-minded nature of her mission which is not only to bury her
brother but to die doing it. The actress successfully communicates
this dual sense of childichness and tragic maturity. Just as Creon
loses sight of human values in his determination to remain politically
just, so does Antigone gradually lose sight of the meaning and logic
of her act. Creon's role is ambiguous too, as he oscillates between
the office of protector and tyrant. While his niece engineers her
own ruin, Creon steadily dissolves as the play reaches its climax,
losing his imposing demeanour to become, as Antigone petulantly calls
him 'just a little man'.
The Chorus is perhaps the most startling element of the paly. Nine
bald-headed men, with greenish, haggard faces in the half-light, creep
about the stage carrying long wooden poles that stick up above them,
creating an effect that is visually striking and delightully sinister.
Meanwhile they emit a mournful and harmonised moaning and strange
rhythmic sniffing which recreates the true Greek concept of the singing
chorus, and which forms a perfect background for the scenes of emotional
and political collapse around them.
Throughout the actors enunciate the dialogue slowly and precisely,
to give an almost exaggerated clippedness to intense emotional expression.
Although somewhat disconcerting, the technique is appropriate as a
method of narrating events, in particular the final narration of Antigone
and Haemons' deaths. Another unusual effect is that of seating some
of the audience on the stage to produce an amphitheatre effect, and
experience which, I am sure, provd more than unusul for the members
of the selected few.
This production is absorbing from start to finish. Highly recommended.
Jane Labous
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