Sophocles’s drama Antigone is one of the great tragedies, time-tested, reworked, and revisited numerous times is its 2,500-year history. This edition, by Needs More Work Productions, offers the audience a chance to change the fate of Antigone, even if the actress playing her doesn’t want it.
Come a bit early—one actress will give you a synopsis, just in case you need it. A garbage bag, representing the body of Antigone’s brother Polynices sits on the stage, guarded by a sentry, played by Shir Ringer, who will also be the Prophet. One actress tries to cover it with a borrowed sweater. It is discovered, and the sweater is returned. And then it begins, and the story unfolds. King Creon has decreed that Polynices is a traitor and cannot be buried, left to be ravaged by the elements and predators. Antigone is not having it and will defy the king’s edict; her sister, Ismene (Camille van Putten), is more wary. And so Antigone boldly buries her brother, is caught, and is sentenced to death.
The themes of Anti-Gone are both universal and surprisingly current. As the current president knocks down the East Wing for his ballroom and threatens to dismantle the Kennedy Center, the line, “a city that belongs to one man is no city,” resonates deeply. The Minneapolis protests against the actions of ICE jump to mind when Antigone asks whether her sister will “stay with silence or act publicly and loudly.” And the Prophet’s words to Creon are, well, prophetic: “Our state is sick. Your policies have done this.”
Erin Arnold’s Creon seems at times curiously disconnected from her role—indeed, she breaks character twice, unable to say Creon’s harsh words. Arguments among the cast ensue. No problem—an audience member finished the scene for them. And when Antigone’s tragic end is assured, someone suggests that, perhaps, we can change the end. More cast arguments—actress Siva Raz wants to do her big death scene—but they ask us. Three suggestions are offered by the audience: free Antigone; Creon abdicates; Antigone is banished. The win goes to abdication, followed by freedom for Antigone. When someone suggests they could do both abdication and freedom, the ending is set. Creon’s improvised abdication is a marvel of eloquence, meshing perfectly with the set script, but it’s also a pyrrhic victory. He buries Polynices, but gets to Antigone too late, and she has died. It seems we cannot alter fate after all. Deeply moving and tragic, Anti-Gone accomplishes in one hour what Shakespeare does in three. And in the end, one actress asks another, “What do we do now?” The answer is simple: “Whatever we decide.”
A note: The Biltmore is a working bar and restaurant. You’ll have to walk through the action to get to the bathrooms and orders to and from the kitchen are run through the stage as well. The cast ignores it; we should, too.
Anti-Gone is playing at the Biltmore Bar & Lounge at 5 PM on September 18, 19, and 20.
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