To make a story relevant across time and space is no small feat. At first glance, Sophocles’ Antigone has much to overcome in doing just that. The millennia-old Greek myth features the titular Antigone being sentenced to death for burying her own brother. To stage its plotline as is would only evoke the same misery, with hardly any new insights for the present. It’s for the best, then, that Tanghalang Ateneo bridges the familiar myth with contemporary issues in Antigone vs. The People of the Philippines.
Directed by Tara Jamora Oppen and written by Sabrina Basilio, the play confronts realities like the plights of the urban poor, fake news, and more. Antigone is now sister to an alleged terrorist–her brother, deemed traitor to the state, whom she still buries. And though her death sentence is sought by so-called dictator Kreon, it’s ultimately the audience who has a say in how the play ends. This is how Tanghalang Ateneo shines: By showing how we, the people of the Philippines, can and should influence our national situation.
Myths brought to life
Even before getting the audience involved, Tanghalang Ateneo’s stellar cast does much to immerse everyone in this new world of Antigone. Among the many characters, Eliezha de Duque (alternate Julia Imai) as the titular Antigone–ang akusada (the accused)–brings the protagonist’s struggles to the forefront through a spectrum of emotions. Antigone here can hold her brother in despair, resignedly survey the trial, and later release real tears of frustration in a heart-wrenching shouting match with the tyrannical Kreon (Robby Fernandez).
Jam Binay (alternate Bea Gaitana) is just as notable in her turn as Ismene, Antigone’s sister, who visibly trembles and cries in grief at the troubles befalling her family. In response, the play’s resident diktador is no less nuanced in his performance. Fernandez maintains a visible limp and a convincingly labored look throughout the proceedings, but still commands a deep and authoritative voice befitting someone of Kreon’s position.
Still, the voices heard during the trial go beyond those of Antigone’s immediate circle. The chorus gives life to a host of disadvantaged sectors, with their identities written on worn placards. From farmers, fishermen, and miners sharing their own stories of poverty to families torn apart by extrajudicial killings (EJKs), these are witnesses not only to Antigone’s or Kreon’s case, but to issues currently plaguing the Philippines. Their rousing testimonials unflinchingly speak of and for those on the fringes of our turbulent society.
Staging reality
All this happens on a similarly striking stage, thanks to Production Designer Tata Tuviera. Antigone vs. The People of the Philippines transpires in the slums, a courthouse of rickety platforms, dilapidated boxes, drooping clotheslines, and unstable ladders. And if this isn’t enough to remind audiences of modern tragedies, the boxy backdrop has the names of slain anti-Marcos activists and EJK victims written in chilling black script–including Edgar Jopson, Emmanuel Lacaba, and 12-year-old Kristine Sailog, to name a few.
Everything is meant to disturb, politically and empathically. Set pieces aside, Antigone’s costumes also paint this disturbing picture of classism. Most in the chorus, those representing the forgotten people of the Philippines, don baggy, ragged clothing and face masks of newspaper headlines–as if to say that corruption, political scandal, and other controversies can be read from these people’s sorry states. The powerful Kreon, on the other hand, has the most tapered outfit of the bunch, in a blazer and collared shirt. But even his outfit is a dull gray-brown, as is the rest of the play. Nothing is meant to look particularly colorful on its own, so Lighting Designers Earvin Estioco and Miguel Torralba make sure to frame the somber scene in stark yellow and orange–with these warm tones adding a certain intensity throughout.
But most notably, this production takes that intensity to a new level when viewers are thrown in the hot seat. Antigone vs. The People of the Philippines has three alternate endings, because the audience decides Antigone’s fate. In doing so, they decide whether her privilege means anything, whether Kreon’s words are the words of a true dictator, and whether the chorus’ testimonies of pressing issues have an impact. Following the trial then becomes more than a theatrical experience but a moral one, because the drama hits so close to reality.
In our reality, we’re well-aware of these same social problems, yet we’re just as susceptible to disinformation and inaction amid all the noise. For those of us who would rather sit back and let the trials by Twitter play out, who would rather turn a blind eye than find ways to help: Antigone vs. The People of the Philippines demands an answer. This is a story about those who wish to keep themselves in power as well as those who wish to free themselves from it. And Tanghalang Ateneo asks that we be part of writing–and righting–that story at present.
