Stark, dark, it's Tragedy Tonight!

Most of the time, walking across the stage to get to your seat at a show results in immediate expulsion, but for the production of Jean Anouilh's Antigone going up this weekend at Nick Chapel, this kind of behavior is encouraged. In fact, the only way you can get to your seat is walking through a tableau of characters carefully arranged on Antigone's stark set. Director Sam Lazarus, BK '02, forces the audience to enter this human tragedy right from the beginning, and they never leave.

KATIE ALDRICH/YH ThebesCorp CEO Creon has some bad employees to deal with...

If the scenery isn't enough to hook you, a tuxedoed one-man Chorus (Chris Burke, MC '03) is on hand to practically spell out the whole play, pronouncing the fate of each character one-by-one before they have spoken a word. Tragedy, he declares, is an inevitable chain of events. The characters ignorant of this fact are those who suffer the most.

Antigone, daughter of Oedipus, the former King of Thebes, knows her place in this tragedy well. After all, as the narrator says in the opening, "When your name is Antigone, there is only one part you can play." Her lot is to die for disobeying an edict of King Creon, her uncle, that no one bury her brother, who attempted to take the throne by force. To save his honor and keep him from being left to roam the Underworld, she buries him—and when his body is pulled out, buries him again.

King Creon is then left with a difficult decision: should he put to death his niece Antigone, beloved by his own son Haemon, and assert his power as the absolute ruler of Thebes? Should he spare her life, thereby appearing weak as a king? Though the audience is not meant to wonder about the course of events, a tense frustration prevades throughout the play. Why was this machine ever set in motion? Why are these characters so fixed to their roles?

The excellent cast keeps the audience absorbed in these questions. Elizabeth Prestel, SY '02, is truly convincing as Antigone, giving the character an old woman's wisdom coupled with a young child's irrational passion and devotion. Still, her Antigone is not a mere icon, for Prestel adds just enough flaw to create a truly believable character. Prestel's profound presence on stage is difficult to match, but the supporting cast does a great job at it, particularly Jon Wolf, SM '02, as Creon, who spars with Antigone in one of the play's best, and longest, scenes. Wolf's Creon is tense, restricted, but bubbling underneath with a nervous energy. Propriety and kingly duty hold his passions in check, but it's obvious he longs to be free of the burden of responsibility. Wolf contrasts well with Prestel as the self-assured Antigone, who is content with her role in the tragedy and her inevitable fate. Jennifer Thompson, BR '04, is a fitting compliment as Antigone's devoted sister Ismene. Thompson portrays well her character's fragility and indecision in early scenes where they discuss the crime Antigone is about to commit. Later, when Ismene tries to take partial blame for her sister's wrongdoing, Thompson does perform a brief but effective turnaround.

Theater

Antigone By Jean Anouilh Directed by Sam Lazarus Fri., Oct. 27 and Sat., Oct. 28, 7 and 10 p.m. Nick Chapel $2, call 6-0125 for reservations

The setting of the play is hard to pin down. The clothing is inarguably current—Haemon wears a wife-beater, Creon, a pinstripe suit—but the place of action is described only by three bare concrete walls, stark and utilitarian. The resulting effect is that the play seems to fit anywhere: in the present, past, or future. The characters and the tragedy are the main focus here. And throughout the tragedy, the Chorus, returns periodically to offer insight. Burke's narrator is all-knowing and cocky, but entertaining, a 20th century version of the traditional Greek chorus. Some of his devices, such as a few too many affected hand motions, do not work, but Burke's performance succeeds far more often than it fails.

Unorthodox, fresh, and beautiful, Antigone is a fantastic show. Go and see it—that is, unless you dare fight destiny.

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