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Antigone
Damien Ryan, Damien Ryan
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eBook - ePub
Antigone
Damien Ryan, Damien Ryan
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'Who here can tell what law we owe the dead?'Antigone, daughter of Oedipus, is a child of war. Thousands of years ago she asked a question: What do we do with the body of the enemy when this enemy is our brother?Damien Ryan's new adaptation of Sophocles' classic takes the conflicts of ancient Thebes and wrenches them passionately into the present. This story of war and its aftermath is a powerful yet vulnerable allegory about one of history's most famous families.Sport for Jove's production of Antigone won seven Sydney Theatre Awards in 2016.'[Brings the original] whole and unharmed and germane into the now.' âDiana Simmonds, StageNoise
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Sujet
LiteratureSous-sujet
DramaACT ONE
PROLOGUE
A contemporary world. A decimated city.
A bathtub. Midnight. Stillness. Two sisters. Both exhausted. Heavy pressure in the room. Things are happening slowly here.
ISMENE sleeps in the bathtub. ANTIGONE is watching her. Silence. She wakes her sister.
ANTIGONE: [whispering] Xipna. Xipna.
[Violently] Xipna!
ISMENE is startled. Lies back again.
Kimithikes?
I canât either.
You look good though ⊠for no sleep.
You looked like you were dreaming. Going into a dream ⊠coming out of a dream. What were you dreaming about?
Nothing from ISMENE.
The silent treatment.
Silence. ISMENE starts washingârubbing oil on her skin.
The silent ointment!
Itâs a lacquer, your silence, isnât it? My quiet ⊠polished sister.
Silence.
Itâs so hot.
ANTIGONE touches ISMENEâs back. ISMENE flinches sharply.
I know, theyâre cold, arenât they? Do you know why theyâre cold? Do you know why my hands are so cold?
ISMENE: Theyâre always cold.
ANTIGONE: Not like this.
Silence.
Itâll happen faster in this heat, wonât it? His skin.
ANTIGONE draws gently on her sisterâs back with her fingers, begins examining it closely.
Not yours. Youâll turn into a lamp when you die ⊠all light and heat and oil, youâll never decay. Youâll liquefy. Bodies are porous, arenât they? They ooze. Like borders, nothing stays in, nothingâs kept out, in the end. We should bottle you before you burn away, all that scented sweat. Oil of Grace, weâll call it. Eau de Demure. Eau de-mure. Eau de Manure!
The trivial provocations have no effect on ISMENE.
Always so calm! How do you do it? Itâs like youâve stopped. You make things stop ⊠donât you, you make boys stop in the street. In the market. Stop and smell the ointment.
ISMENE: Is that our fatherâs coat?
Take it off. Take it off!
ANTIGONE: No. Why?
ISMENE: Give it to me.
ANTIGONE removes the coat.
ISMENE: [in a whisper] Still smells like him. I didnât know you had this. Where did you hide it?
ANTIGONE: I donât know.
ISMENE: You told me to keep nothing. Throw a black stone over your shoulder, you said, and never think of him again. You said weâd never go back there.
ANTIGONE: Rixe mavri petra. And did you throw a black stone?
Pause. ANTIGONE pulls a small bottle out of the pocket of the coat.
ISMENE: Where did you get that? When did you start �
ANTIGONE: Questions, questions. Does it matter? Our brothers are dead. Brandy is traditional at this moment, right?
Offers ISMENE the brandy.
Donât worry. Itâs a good one. Metaxa brandyâ
ISMENE takes the drink.
Ohh-hoo, sheâs drinking. Do you want a smoke too?
ISMENE: Whatâs wrong with you, Antigone?
ANTIGONE: You wonât talk to me.
ISMENE: Talk about what?
ANTIGONE: You know whatâyou know what âŠ
ISMENE steps sharply into her towel and prepares to leave. ANTIGONEâs restlessness getting more active/dangerous.
Iâll talk to myself, maybe youâll eavesdrop. No, Iâll pretend thereâs a crowdâIâll pretend this is the amphitheatre. This is the orchestraâyour bathroom!âNow thereâs a show! Thereâs a civic duty men would turn up to. Thousands of eyes staring at your bath. The old plays in the amphitheatre never start like that, do they? Itâs always a gate, or palace doors, pillars, strong things. No-one wants a play about weak things. [Announcing as a herald] Gentlemen of Thebes, we have no pillars but I give you pillowsâ
ISMENE: Shut up, youâll wake our uncleâ
ANTIGONE: No guards, no gates.
She holds up a pair of her sisterâs underwear.
Ah, now thereâs a gate. Thereâs a way in, you men of Thebes, Ismeneâs thresholdâ
ISMENE hits ANTIGONE hard, surprising her, and pushes her fiercely to the ground. ANTIGONE lies there, unaffected by it.
ISMENE: Just give Haemon what he wants, Antigone. You wonât find sex so fascinating.
ANTIGONE: Bet the ancients never thought weâd see those things in the theatre. Maybe one day thereâll be no rules at all. Even an ignorant girl taking a bath will be considered interesting.
ISMENE: Iâm not stupid, Antigone.
ANTIGONE: I never said stupid.
ISMENE: But...