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What makes a hero? Trinity Repertory Company's new show, "The Dreams of Antigone," attempts to answer this question, channeling an ancient story from Greek myth.
People have known Sophocles' "Antigone" for millenia, but at Trinity Rep this month, director Brian McEleney and playwright Curt Columbus - associate director and artistic director of the company, respectively - debut a modern interpretation of the classical tale.
A mash-up of ancient Greek drama and contemporary American politics, "The Dreams of Antigone" presents the audience with a world of tyrannical ultimatums and misguided rule. Creon, played by Fred Sullivan Jr. has taken charge of Thebes with an iron fist after the downfall of his cousin and brother-in-law, Oedipus. A disastrous civil war between Oedipus' sons Eteocles (Mauro Hantman) and Polyneices (Aaron Rossini GS) has left the city in disarray and endless bodies in open graves. Killed in a fraternal duel, Eteocles is now honored as a hero of the state, while the rebellious Polyneices, by Creon's decree, lies unburied on the battlefield.
The real hero of this story is its title character. Antigone (Rachael Warren), the daughter of Oedipus - or, alternately, his half-sister - chooses to bury her brother Polyneices, defying Creon's orders and sealing her own death.
At the start of the play, the stage sits in a state of decay, the scene of a fallen empire. The strong stone pillars that once held up grand temples now lie in collapsed ruin. Slipping through the space come great metal cages, ugly pieces of modern industry. While the set evokes the crumbling monuments of the past, Columbus places the characters in small, private spaces - the kitchen, the council chamber, the privileged quarters of the palace.
In this context, tragedy becomes domestic drama in search of a more personal examination of these ancient characters. After burying her brother, Antigone stumbles into the household kitchen, where she finds the family cook making rolls. They talk sentimentally of her childhood and how things have changed, how her family once was happy.
"The Dreams of Antigone" does not replicate the heightened, abstract tone of Greek tragedy, but rather presents intimate portraits of confused people who don't always know what is right - even if they think they do. The members of the Chorus, including the cook, the family housekeeper, and a war widow, provide the viewers with individual perspectives on larger events, instead of grandiose meditations. Likewise, Columbus and McEleney humanize Antigone, presenting her as the over-privileged daughter of royalty who defies the law in a stint of drunken anger rather than in utter conviction of her own actions.
It is only through her act of civil disobedience that Antigone gains the power to question what is good and just. By speaking out, Antigone breaks the silence that seems to loom over Creon's Thebes.
Columbus and McEleney appear to compare the tyranny of Creon to current United States politics. The chorus slips into recitations of "We the People … " and the patriotic chants of national anthems - heavy-handed gestures toward Washington and American politics that become overbearing and predictable. Creon gains a network of cronies and advisors, insiders on a par with Karl Rove and Donald Rumsfeld. The comparison is not strictly allegorical, yet it suggests a strongly didactic criticism of the black-and-white thinking present today and the suppression of challenging voices.
While it is easy to criticize American politics, "The Dreams of Antigone" also blames the audience for its own silence, both outside and inside the world of the theater. Columbus points out the convention of docile theatergoing, linking it to the silence of the public in the face of authority, which Antigone opposes. The audience becomes a culprit as the tragedy unfolds onstage. By passively observing, Columbus suggests, the viewers are complicit in Antigone's death.
In "The Dreams of Antigone," the ghosts of the past appear in the dreams of the characters; the dead still haunt the living. Dead soldiers and departed relatives stay with the characters, living on and becoming heroes through their memories. The play points out that characters, too, live and die. Through the power of storytelling, they also challenge us to speak out.
This production might be just one among many versions of an ancient tale. Yet in its telling, it takes the time to remind the viewer why these stories are worth telling twice.
"Dreams of Antigone" runs through Oct. 26 in the Dowling Theater at Trinity Rep, located at 201 Washington St. in downtown Providence.
