Antigone

Photographer: Robert Day

In the concrete confines of a darkly lit NCP-like car park, the bloody business of playwright Roy Williams' and theatre company Pilot's modern Antigone unfolds. Pimped-out, blinged-up and modernised, there is much to commend in the idea but in the execution it's thoroughly muddled. The story remains the same: Williams's gangleader re-imagining of Creon, Creo, while trying to assert his control after stepping up to leadership, finds his niece 'Tig' - again, a modernised moniker for 'Antigone' - disrespecting his orders by covering her brother's body (who had made a move against Creo). The ripple effect of this act propels the action of the play and causes the 'fam', as Williams terms it, to be torn apart, damned by the will of the Gods.

The adaptation's mix (although the play is far more street speak than traditional Sophocles) rollocks along in around 90 minutes, but overall the production is as mismatched as Dizzee Rascal's famous Newsnight appearance; two worlds sitting badly together produces the same effect as Paxman interviewing "Mr Rascal". Whilst modern urban youth has a place on a flagship current events programme, packaging it in the lexicon not of its own, as Williams has done, veers toward belittling that sub-culture. Williams' text tries to retain too much of the posturing of original and at times just lazily adds a "yeh get meh, blud?" or "battyman" to the classical language - making the source feel haughty and conservative and the newer parlance diminished, relegated.

The script does have some intelligent touches, and the Romeo and Juliet theme between Tig and Creo's son Eamon, which Williams teases out of the text, is an interesting take - although the whole cousin-shagging element is not discussed, a curious omission after all the flack that Antigone takes for her parentage. There is also an clever reimagining on the traditional chorus, who are now attendant-bodyguards for Creo, but they become tiresome in their repeated attempt at teaching the audience about obvious collective nouns. There is a floundering sense throughout that godlike omnipotence has now become the CCTV systems and constantly updating newsfeeds of modern communication - the Gods always watching - but again this never feels fully developed.  

Photographer: Robert Day

In performance, the lines are mostly shouted and lack any cohesion in the language; there is no rhythm to attune to for the audience. Acting wise, Gamba Cole and Doreene Blackstock, as idealistic and rebellious Eamon, and Eunice, chiding wife of Creo, stand out, although their lines are less of the source text and more freely created by the playwright. Oliver Wilson too, in his dual role as chorus and weed-addled prophet Tyrese, added some humour as both the likeable guilt-wrought henchman and comic soothsayer. As for the rest of the cast, there was not much believability in their performances as they clunked through the mishmash of lines.

In this take on the Ancient classic, director Marcus Romer's production is caught between this hammy overacting and the hamstrung script, which never properly belongs to either world. Parallels have been made to shows like The Wire, but it lacks the compelling cleverness of a Stringer Bell or the motivation of an Omar to carry the audience with it. When Tig says "take me to my hole" there were laughs rather than a respect for someone willing to die for what they believe in. It is a noble effort made by Pilot Theatre and Roy Williams but this production is caught awkwardly between the gangs of Ancient Greece and the streets of today.

Antigone was at the Lakeside Arts Theatre Monday 13 October and Tuesday 14 October 2014.