Antigone teaches us how to grieve

By Irving Wardle

It is no surprise to see a political figure spotlit by the theatre, but rare to see theatre spotlit by a political figure. Such is the good fortune of “Antigone”, a new production of which opens at the Barbican in March starring Juliette Binoche. Last month Alexis Tsipras, the new Greek prime minister, launched his government with a vote of thanks to the Sophoclean heroine, who “has taught us that there are moments when the supreme law is justice.”

Of all ancient plays, “Antigone” is the most used to finding itself reflecting public events. In essence the play is a straight collision between power and conscience, between human and divine law. Antigone disobeys her royal uncle Creon, who has decreed that the corpse of her brother Polyneices should be left unburied after he’s killed in a civil war between him and his brother Eteocles. But just what Antigone and Creon stand for reflects an ever-lengthening list of the varieties of human conflict and sympathy. Antigone may appear the sympathetic one and Creon the face-saving bully—but Goethe thought he was the hero, declaring, “I prefer injustice to disorder.” George Steiner’s less-than-exhaustive book, “Antigones” (1984), lists 32 works for theatre, ballet and opera based on Sophocles’ original. And they keep on coming.