This Antigone is not a standard translation from the Greek but rather one by Irish poet Seamus Heaney, originally published as what is here named the play’s subtitle. The text comes from two writers, eras, and places. This makes all the difference in the production, especially by relatively young FSU Conservatory students. Because Antigone is a straightforward play, it goes right into the dramatic situation. Creon has taken over Thebes after civil war. He’s given honorable burial to the nephew who sided with him but decreed that the other, Polynices, rot. His sister Ismene decides to obey Creon’s law, under penalty of death, that no one bury Polynices, but sister Antigone will obey the law of the gods, not the state, and bury him. Creon’s son Haimon, affianced to Antigone, decides to die with her. Director Greg Leaming says he’s tried to bring out the play’s contemporary personal vs. dictatorial governmental moral relevance, but that’s what most modern productions have done. It was surely Seamus Heaney’s intention, but he was against George Bush’s incursion into Iraq and probably deep into the Irish political situation too. The production’s modernity is mainly in its staging, which might be of a tragic lyrical play with much stomping around, conversation by and even to choral figures, military uniforms on Creon and chorus, and English-Irish phraseology. Naire Poole as Antigone is an attractive, spirited antagonist of Creon, made weak in his opposition to her by Christopher Hayhurst. Ana Beth Baker renders Ismene’s fear understandable; she wins sympathy when she tries to back Antigone, who won’t give her a second chance. Liam O’Brien’s Haimon is blah, and his bloody body being dragged onstage is an anomaly in classic Greek drama and even modern Irish plays. Bonita Jackson scores as the blind prophet Tiresias who presents now and the future with horrific vision. In a chorus whose members don’t really dance or sing but move and speak to each other and the audience as individuals as well as in choral fashion, Jamie Saunders stands out in his dual role of Messenger who shirks Creon’s wrath but isn’t still when speaking counts. Alex Rodriguez clearly leads the chorus and co-leader Anna Newbury calmly delivers final comments like an epilogue. Chorus member Jacob Jacob Sefcak doubles well in the role of Sentry as, in the finale, Kaitlyn Weickel does playing Queen Eurydice. Christopher Blonski and Kenny Fedorrko round out the choral commentators. Jeffrey Weber’s set is a three-quarter temple surrounding of topped, not-quite-ruins, aged from dirt, sun, and being torn into. With Chris McVicker’s lighting comes the suggestion of Twilight with the Gods. Alex Pinchin’s sound is up to the job except when the Chorus bangs on the solid wood floor with their poles, sometimes drowning out speech. (What are those poles? Not dorys, which were Spartan, not staves without spear-knives, not in a tragedy emptied holders of comic phallic symbols, not inappropriate scepters, and certainly not crooked Irish shillelaghs!) Sofia Gonzales’ costumes for Antigone and Tiresias are wonderfully deep-colored in reds, golds, browns but black and white for Ismene. Creon and the chorus all wear military garb, the king’s being many-medaled. The others wear modern fatigues. Haimon has an inexplicable blue suit with an unbuttoned white shirt, useful only to show the blood from his fatal wounds onstage. One could not say the production dragged.
