8/4
 |
| ANTIGONA |
It’s been a very hot day and a day long struggle with the
steps. Alcohol is taking its toll. The
older Latino man, stripped to the waist, barefoot, sitting and drinking from an
open rum bottle, his eyes, liquid, beyond bloodshot to almost bleeding,
mournful tears pouring down. I tell him
he can’t sit there drinking. He points
awkwardly to the two sisters sitting further down. Y ellas, alla…porque? Because they are not drinking, I say.
Later, the main door is occupied by the man who reminds me
of the evil twin of the man who used to be featured on the Uncle Ben’s rice
box. Also stripped to the waist and drunk. I am relieved when Dion arrives for his preshow set up work
and helps me move people along.
****
Tonight will be my last chance to see Antigona before leaving for Ireland tomorrow. There are fans and iced down water to keep
people cool in the heat. Since review after review has been positive, crowds
have been building nightly. Sold out
every night. But sadly, this one week
extension will be it. Professional commitments and family concerns of cast
members demand that much of the cast will be returning to Spain. Most
disappointed is Soledad who is discovering more of Antigona every performance. She more and more is Antigona. She and Martin had wanted an
extended run, especially because so many neighbors who want to see the show
won’t return to the city until after Labor Day. Saturday the 15th
will be the final performance.
Something magical happens tonight. Even though I have seen
the show countless times, from the
scenes at the Joyce theatre to preview performances at the University of
Pennsylvania to the showcase performances at the Pearl to now the fully staged
production here at West-Park, it continues to grow, evolve, become, not just Soledad, but the entire
cast.
And tonight, it’s all there. No more awkward transitions,
it’s almost seamless from scene to scene with an organic and emotional logic. No
more sense of flawed wonder. The drama and emotion build and build. Every time
you think Soledad has reached her peak, she comes back higher and deeper. Until
finally, hair hanging sweat soaked, eyes burning with intensity, defiant and
vulnerable, she stares down life itself fiercely embracing its beauty and
declaring her agency in the face of the abyss. She, not Creon, not fate, is in
control of her destiny.
And it is the small
details I notice, the open smile as she and Haemon share one last dance of
love. As if in that moment, this is
enough to redeem. And at the performance’s conclusion, she comes to the center
of the stage and gently lifts the chastened, broken Creon, sharing a look of
compassion. (My brother the English teacher maintains Creon is the tragic
center of the play.) In that one simple gesture, a suggestion of possible
redemption. And tonight at that moment,
I am brought to tears. My breath taken away. And speechless. One of those
moments where for just a moment, you see truth.
Which is the only purpose of art.
I was asked by someone if I could write an essay on the
Christian meaning, the Gospel interpretation of
Antigona. I said No. In theology, we deal in the Word.
Our scripture is a word. Jesus is a living word. Those words are their own expression. Art exists not to serve those
words, not to be a handmaid, as my friend says, not to illustrate like a
children’s Bible. Art is its own word, seeking to reveal truth. This production of Antigona explores a host of issues, social-political, spiritual,
emotional, but ultimately it is life
itself, and the truth revealed in the living of that life that is at stake. And in that process,
the word that is artistic expression
is in dialogue with not in service to our words.
That is why this production of Antigona with its intelligence, its competence, its passion and
transcendence belongs in a sanctuary. Our
sanctuary.
I will visit with my friends. Try to say this. And I will
visit Soledad and tell her it is dificil
para entender que es possible a ir arriba y arriba….impossible as it seems,
she has gone higher and higher.
And for this, I am thankful.
****
Tomorrow I will visit with Rudy, seeking a way to bring his
work back to West-Park. And then off to Ireland.
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