The Chronicle January 2020

12 ST EDWARD’S CHRONICLE

Sophocles’ Antigone By Mark Taylor, Head of Classics How do you judge the success of a production? A simple question for an Athenian: playwrights wrote their tragedy trilogies for a one-off, competitive performance at the March City Dionysia, attended by most citizens and judged by 10 men, chosen by lot. As a consequence of Sophocles’ Antigone winning 2,460 years ago, the poet was elected general, alongside Pericles, for a punitive campaign against the recalcitrant island of Samos – a peculiarly Athenian take on transferable skills – oh, and he also received an ivy wreath and quite possibly a goat.

sixteen! From Sixths to Shells, all had their key moments: as demotic sentries finding grim humour in their own escape at Antigone’s expense, or in the traditional rheses , as messengers brought news of the various deaths before bearing in the corpses, leaving an indelible image of needless destruction. During one such, a haunting vision was revealed: as the cell door cast its shadowed bars over Antigone, in powerfully simple mime, she hanged herself. On discovering her limp form, Haemon first clung, then crumpled, at her side - a noble and plangent tableau. Collectively the chorus were excellent as well. with wonderful choreography showing their balletic anger. How the sixteen made such dynamic use of the space was truly impressive – witness the spiralling antistrophe in their final ode. Their impact throughout was enormous, constantly on stage from their parodos , they remained at all times part of the drama; their reactions along with tender body language expressed waves of emotion. Their message was made contemporary by skilled beat boxing and ominous, bass-laden music from Jonathan Keeley’s dark, brooding sound design. The dress design, being free from any era, added to the play’s universality. Nonetheless it did evoke the rawness of the social and political divides. The two sisters counter- balanced each other in this respect. Ismene, in yellow, exhibited the restraint not to be found in the fiery red sash of Antigone, and when condemned as bride to Death, she wore a wedding gown of both white and black. Creon’s posturing, snug suit, topped off with pocket square, made him more uncomfortable in his increasing isolation and belied his attempt at insouciance while leaning languidly against a column. It’s time to extol Ben Courtney-Guy’s skills at bringing out such a conflicted character through stance and nuanced expressions, as much as by how he spoke. Recognition ( anagnorisis ) for Creon comes too late: the truth, slow to dawn, is thus harder to bear. Creon’s wife, Eurydice, was powerfully understated by Aniella Weinberger as the silently poised, dignified queen. She stands

Last term’s energy-fuelled production, directed by Katrina Eden ably assisted by Georgia Thomas, used a striking, new translation by Robert Bagg to draw out the ancient yet universal themes of disquiet and protest at those who proclaim they know best. The youthful, zealous idealism of Antigone clashes head on with the inflexible edicts of an arriviste king, desperate to inject his nervy regime into the power vacuum left by internecine war. This production’s stunning traverse set, with its steep slope from Creon’s authoritarian throne down to the

graffiti-spattered ghetto of the chorus, designed by Mayou Trikerioti, delineated the disconnection between power and populace, and so spoke of the conflict to come. Creon’s ‘throne stone’ was set beneath a mocking Damoclean crown, while royal division was enhanced by a fissure across the stage which was larva lit as the tragedy unfolded inexorably. In a deliberate shift from the choral convention of Theban elders, the Chorus provided the XR, Generation-Z voice, speaking truth to Boomer control. What a talented troupe were the chorus of