Who is the protagonist in Sophocles’ Antigone? Is it Antigone or Creon? Scholars in literature often debate that question. But in Don Taylor’s 1984 rendition of Antigone, there is no doubt that Creon (played by John Shrapnel) is the protagonist. Don Taylor’s direction to have a Creon-focused Antigone was a precarious decision, but a highly successful one. You have to see it to believe it.
The story of Antigone (played by Juliet Stevenson) is about the recalcitrant title character who buried her dead brother thereby violating a decree set forth by her uncle, the new king Creon. She did it to uphold a religious right she believed to be ubiquitous, but Creon viewed it as an act against his power and therefore refused to grant her impunity from death. Even the fact that she was his niece and future daughter-in-law could not have saved her nor did she want to be saved, at least not through family ties. After all, Antigone's iconoclastic action, her brother’s burial, was also a protest against the state’s right over an individual’s religious right – “Shout it in the streets!” exclaimed Antigone to Ismene about the burial. In the play’s climax, Antigone’s death resulted into Haemon’s which in turn brought upon the suicide of Creon’s wife.
The order of these events is the same for both Sophocle’s original and Taylor’s update. The actual words of the script, on the other hand, were translated by Taylor himself. Taylor focused his translations on making the script poetical in the modern English language i.e. with the right amount of syllables per line and the occasional rhymes:
“A new king enters to take his throne.\ The responsibility, his alone.”
“Somebody.\ Take me away.\ I disgrace the light of day.”
This is particularly evident in lines delivered by the chorus. Considering that Sophocles’ original was supposed to be poetical in the Greek language, it is impressive that Taylor managed to make his translation poetical and therefore rendering it superior to a verbatim translation.
The remaining script changes centers around Creon. Other translations of lines about or delivered by Creon would be considered laconic compared to Taylor’s translation. Creon’s last speech in the exodus is only five lines long in Dudley Fitts and Robert Fitzgerald’s translation, but it is double that in Taylor’s translation because of the additional richer imagery. Taylor’s translation highlights how important it is to have Creon the center of the play in his version and it was done very well.
Despite a new translation, themes of religious law versus state law and male versus female were still explored just like previous translations. But the focus of Taylor’s adaptation is the danger of pride and hubris. He wants to tell Creon’s story, not Antigone’s, which is why the new translation focused on Creon. Even the stage props focused on Creon. The entirety of the play takes place in Creon’s chamber where, in the background, there is a staircase with a myriad of steps which leads to a prodigious double door. This is the door Creon always makes his entrance displaying his power; but after Creon realizes he was in the wrong, he does not enter from that door anymore. The chamber has an austere aesthetics apart from large portraits of Creon, his throne and seating for the senators/chorus. The only chairs with a backrest are Creon’s throne – the chorus does not have chairs with backrests. All this is symbolic of Creon’s power and his very pragmatic approach in governing. Taylor was able to effectively convey all this about Creon without a superfluous use of props.
Taylor was also able to convey Creon’s transformation through the color-palette of the stage. As the play progressed, curtains were added and changed. When Creon was proud and powerful, the walls were bare and followed a gray color scheme. When he was angry at those who defied him, such as Antigone and Haemon, the walls were covered in blazing-red curtains. And when he became the broken man at the end of the play, the curtains were replaced by somber purple ones. Even Creon’s costume and that of the chorus and chamber guards matched the color-palette of the rest of the room. When the audience’s vision is dominated by colors that mirror Creon’s feelings, those feelings are engendered within the audience as well.
John Shrapnel’s stellar performance as Creon also helped in making the audience feel what he is feeling. Shrapnel has a very powerful, commanding voice appropriate for Creon’s speeches on power and outbursts towards those that defy him. More importantly, Shrapnel knows when to change the tone of his voice. When Tiresais, the oracle, tells Creon the tragedy that he will bestow upon himself, Creon’s face remained motionless, body almost stupefied. It was a convincing expression that Shrapnel pulled off and it was followed by words spoken in a soft and broken voice, an amalgamation of fear and regret. Shrapnel was perfect for the role. And so was Julet Stevenson as Antigone.
Juliet Stevenson’s performance illustrates Antigone as a headstrong character with implacable convictions. She always makes eye contact with Creon – when Creon pushes her face away, she quickly reestablishes eye contact, staring back intrepidly at the face of death. This juxtaposition of Creon’s raging outbursts with her imperturbable demeanor makes every discourse between those two characters intense, drawing the audience deeper into the play. Stevenson’s portrayal of Antigone compliments Shrapnel’s Creon making his character much more complete.
Taylor crafted the interaction between Creon and his son, Haemon, with the same meticulous care as that between Creon and Antigone. Clearly Taylor felt that the script itself is not sufficient in developing the relationship between Creon and Haemon. If Haemon’s death were to be impactful, the relationship between father and son must be developed. Taylor does this not by appending Sophocle’s original story, but with clever stage direction. When Haemon confronts Creon for the first time since Antigone’s capture, instead of Haemon immediately pleading for Antigone’s life, he stood face to face with his father a few meters apart. Their heads were held high. After a brief exchange of words, their body language changed to one that is more akin to father and son: Creon embraces Haemon and Haemon holds Creon’s hands. They may be two headstrong men, but they do care for each other. Creon’s costume suggests that same thing about their relationship. He does not wear a cape when talking to his son because Haemon is his son first and a subordinate in the government second. It makes it that much more painful to see Creon’s heart break when Haemon dies.
The ending is indeed a heart breaking one. It seems that this was the focus of Taylor’s adaptation. The exodus especially highlights this. It differs from Sophocle’s original in that instead of the chorus, Creon is the last person that the audience sees. In Sophocle’s original, Creon makes his last speech and is then carried off the stage; the Chorus then delivers their last lines. In Taylor’s redition, Creon makes his last speech on his knees (“my back is broken”) then he is helped to his throne. His body is not erect as it once was when sitting on the throne. He holds his hands against his heart. The music played is a broken version of the one played when Creon first made his entrance; it’s once powerful brass tones now felt like dead notes. The chorus delivers their last lines as the lighting around the throne darkens until only Creon can be seen. This is the very last image the audience sees – a broken man sitting on the chair of power, the irony being that he has lost his power because of his hubris. This being the theme that Taylor is exploring by focusing on Creon.
By the end of the play, the audience too feels broken. With a beautifully crafted translation, meticulous attention to set design and costumes, clever stage direction, careful music composition and brilliant acting by the leads, Don Taylor has made a faithful adaptation of Antigone that tells the tragedy of Creon like never before. His directorial acumen has successfully made the audience loathe the hubristic Creon to vicariously feel his pain. You would not have experienced Creon’s true tragedy and learn from it until you watch this adaptation.
Comments
Post a Comment