AN ENTHRALLING PERFORMANCE
The 2,500-year-old story of Antigone and her unfortunate family in the plays of Sophocles has had modern writers clammering to retell it in terms of modern history or politics: fascism, communism, colonialism, the weak revolting against the power of the state; natural and divine law opposing the cruelty of man-made edicts.
In the original play, the new ruler of Thebes, Creon, has decreed that the body of Antigone’s brother, Polynices, who had attacked Thebes, must be left lying in the dust for dogs and vultures to eat. His brother, who defended Thebes gets a proper burial. Antigone goes through a simple burial ceremony for Polynices and is condemned to death. The play raised the issue of whether Creon was justified in taking a strong stance for the security of the state, and if Antigone was just a trouble-maker or was right to uphold a universal family duty. It’s almost a test of audiences how they respond.
Colm Tóibín’s new work tells the story as a one-woman play, in which Antigone’s sister Ismene, who has a small role in the original, retells the tragic history of her family, her own failure, and her anguish over the treatment of Antigone. It’s a very personal account that stresses the human aspects of the events more than the political.
Ismene herself suffers from the guilt of not having supported her sister originally. Antigone refused her attempts to take some of the blame. Antigone has fearlessly done something that made a difference, and her refusal to even consider escaping is an even greater rebuke to Ismene.
In this production, the stage exuded a chilling sense of death, emphasised by restrained lighting, and Lisa Dwan gave an enthralling performance as the distraught Ismene, who sees herself as a failure, an irrelevance, not even worth the dignity of execution.
Ms Dwan didn’t just give voice to Ismene’s shattered emotions; they’re expressed in her face, her body, in every careful gesture. Ismene has now lost her whole family. How can she live with her sense of loss and guilt?
The account she gives of her uncle Creon is of a ruthless, sadistic tyrant, torturing captives, while the people stay quiet for their own comfort. But she also saw his weakness, his collapse in the face of what he brought about.
But her greatest strength is the power of resilience. She realises that though people may be silenced, everything Creon has done has ultimately been for nothing and her final repeated declarations: ‘I am not afraid of you any more’ are a resounding response of the human spirit in the face of personal failure, tragedy and dictatorship.