A&E
Tolles Lecture Series brings acclaimed author Anne Carson for staged reading of Antigonick
By Rachel Alatalo ’18
September 29, 2016
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“Dear Antigone, I take it as the task of the translator to forbid that you should ever lose your screams,” Canadian poet, essayist, and translator Anne Carson said to close her introduction of Hamilton’s staged reading of Antigonick. Carson’s translation of Sophocles’ tragedy abouta woman’s choice to break state law in order to honor her dead brother began as a commission for Dutch director Ivo van Hove. The director refused to work with her version and asked that she rewrite it, claiming that Antigonick wasn’t faithful enough to the original text.
It’s easy to understand why Carson’s translation seems to diverge from the ancient Greek original. Carson’s Kreon is reminiscent of a preening popstar; her Antigone could bring her passionate speeches from the throne room of ancient Thebes into the streets of modern day Chicago, New York or Atlanta and not miss a beat. The snappy dialogue sneaks in references to people who lived centuries after it was written, from Hegel to Virginia Woolf to Bertolt Brecht, who famously produced a version of the play where Antigone wore a door on her back.
But, as Carson explained during Q&A sessions Thursday afternoon and Friday evening following the reading, she made such counterintuitive choices to ensure that her version of Antigone was as faithful to Sophocles’ message as possible. While Sophocles’ text did not literally compare a Greek chorus to a lawyer, that anachronistic connection, while changing the original wording, clarifies the heart of the idea for a modern audience. We can’t escape the discourse already generated about the work, Carson reasons, so why shouldn’t that be used to give us a better understanding of it?
The minimalist staging of the play allowed Carson’s masterfully controlled language to shine. The actors, dressed more or less uniformly in black and white, performed on a sparsely set stage in the Barrett Theatre.
Their reading was precise and emotive, taking full advantage of Carson’s clever and selfaware script to infuse the chorus with biting sarcasm, the guard with disdain and Eurydike with indignation at her almost cruelly restricted role. The actors had the audience in rapt attention and fits of giggles by turn, proving that Carson’s translation successfully transformed a play written in a dead language into a piece that is sharp, poetic and engaging for a modern audience.
However, the staged reading presented certain limits to our understanding of the full effect of Carson’s translation. Beyond the obvious lack of blocking, set pieces, lighting changes and sound effects, the staged reading was also missing an entire character: Nick, a mute who spends the play meandering the stage measuring things. The character, Car- son’s creation, would likely emphasize her repeated references to losing time and catch- ing things in the nick of time. If Nick had been onstage, he may have made Kreon’s failed at- tempt to free Antigone before it’s too late all the more poignant, but in the staged reading, Nick remains invisible, lost within the omitted stage directions.
The staged reading also lacked another notable element: the author. While the actors provide an amplification of Carson’s words, and allowed a large audience to experience the genius of her work, the opportunity to actually hear from the writer herself was limited to a 15 minute Q&A after the reading (in addition to a longer one, mostly advertised for Creative Writing and Theatre concentrators, on Thursday). The limit on her voice felt almost as cruel as Eurydike’s restriction to a single monologue within the play. It also felt contrary to the idea of inviting Carson to the College as the Tolles lecturer—why bring the authorof suchaglittering translation, and several other pieces of compelling, experimental, brilliant writing, to campus and not take full advantage of her presence to hear all she has to say about it?
What little we did get to experience of Carson in person only seems to highlight the potential greatness of the experience we missed out on. Carson’s sharp responses hinted at the depth of her intelligence and made one want to think carefully and only ask questions worthy of her time. Meanwhile, her husband and artistic partner-in-crime Robert Currie served as a more relaxed foil to her reserved demeanor and complemented Carson well. Not only is he an integral part to any project adapting her work beyond the page, but he also had a keen sense of when to prompt Carson into a more in-depth discussion. He’d ask her about a past performance or related project, sit back and let Carson shine. As the two interacted, it became clear how much they respected one another, as well as the fact that somehow, her work wouldn’t be the same without him. Anne Carson and her words are the base from which the pair always works, and Currie is the conduit that allows us to view it in a lively and accessible way.
Antigonick was a brilliant piece of writing to show on campus—if only we got to see more of the woman who wrote it.