GONE. To 2 October.
Edinburgh/London
GONE
by Glyn Cannon
Pleasance Courtyard (Pleasance Cavern) To 30 August 2004
Wed-Mon 3pm
Runs 1hr No interval
Transfers to New Ambassadors Theatre London 20 September-2 October 2004
Mon-Sat 7.30pm
TICKETS: 0131 556 6550 (Edinburgh)
0870 060 6627 (London)
Review: Timothy Ramsden 23 August
You have to be good to offer another Antigone derivative. Fortunately, both Glyn Cannon and Tinker Theatre are very good.The particular political form of lying known in the 1980s as being economical with the truth, and today, more briefly, as spin, is not new. King Creon is possibly its first recorded (albeit mythical) user. And like (to pluck an example at near random) Tony Blair he did it with a high moral purpose.
His predecessor, Oedipus, had been a good king whose reign had ended badly (more of that in Sophocles). And Oedipus' two sons had killed each other fighting for control of Thebes. A people ravaged by plague, shocked by the news about their king, now faced faction and civil conflict.
Creon's political solution was to put the good of the state above human justice: honourable burial for one warring brother; disonourable corpse-rotting for the other. This gave a steer to who was in the right and shut up indecisive dissenters.
But the dead lads had sisters, one of whom would not stifle the claims of huiman justice and the individual. She insisted on burying her dishonoured brother. Glyn Cannon's play tersely follows the story of Sophocles' Antigone, including the comically fearful soldier who finds the body buried. Here, he becomes a mortuary attendant.
Within its hour-long playing time the updated story finds time for two valuable video sequences. At the start, Antigone sits compulsively replaying the tape of the besuited Creon's press-conference, rewinding to his statement about using power to bring peace, inflaming her moral indignation.
As she sits in the stifling stink of the mortuary (her less resolute sister Ismene holds a handkerchief to her nose and sprays air-freshener when paying a visit), Antigone is backed by images of insect-sucked flesh with dripping blood. Unfair no doubt to the Theban post-fatality facilities, it makes for a strong image of puresecence, moral as well as physical.
More jarring are the verbal outbursts. Nigel Hastings is immaculate playing the public face of Creon (usually actors playing speechifying politicians overplay verbal tics and mannerisms; not here. There's just a final smack of the lips, which becomes increasingly annoying each time Antigone replays it).
So his final losing of poise and verbal cool shows the anxiety beneath the appearance of control. But Julia Hickman's Antigone doesn't need the obscenities of her opening speech. Sitting in underwear on the ice-box with her brother's corpse, her face is set with a grim purpose that's part-undermined by the explosive fury of her language.
With fine performances from Creon's yes-men politicos, Charlotte Asprey as the calmly reasonable sister caught up in the Creon-Antigone fracas, and Miranda Cook bringing a still grief to her scenes, plus capable work from others, this is strong work, perfectly matching classic and modern perceptions in a mostly fine-wrought, economic and elegant script.
Creon: Ngel Hastings
Chorus: Simon Poole, Tom Davey, Richard Simons
Ismene: Charlotte Asprey
Antigone: Julia Hickman
Eurydice: Miranda Cook
Haemon: Alastair Kirton
Mortuary Attendant: Alan Drake
Director: Hannah Eidinow
Designer: Mike Lees
Lighting: Julia Slienger
Film/editing: Keith Harris, Bridget Harris, Hannah Eidenow, Judy Goldberg, Pepe da Silva
2004-08-24 11:34:07