The Cast Photo by Stephen Townsend, Distant Era

Elaine Carlson, director of Promethean Theatre Ensemble's production of the play, clearly understands the importance of its timing. In a director's note she acknowledges that individuals fighting against political machines don't stand much chance, that their failure may well be, as Christine Renee Jones' powerful and enjoyable Chorus character tells us, inevitable–because Tragedy always is. Yet Carlson and Anouilh insist that we must try anyway, even when it appears that no hope is possible. Like the theatre company's namesake, we must keep rolling that rock up the hill even though we know it will not stay there.

Jones' lively and very funny–at first–narrator begins by introducing the characters and scene, coming right out to the front rows of the audience as if she were doing stand-up, ingratiating herself to us while setting up the play's darker themes. And make no mistake: they are dark. We enter a Thebes reeling from an internecine war between the late King Oedipus's two sons that resulted in their deaths and the coronation of a new king: Oedipus's brother-in-law, Creon (Jared Dennis, brilliant as the reluctant but efficient leader), begins his reign with the jarring decision not to bury one of the brothers, Polynices. Instead, he proclaims that the remains will rot in the street as a horrific reminder to the city of the consequences of treason.

Enter Antigone (Heather Dennis, in a remarkably nuanced and accessible performance), who cannot allow this sacrilege, which goes directly against the laws of the gods. Polynices was never very nice to her when they were young, but still he is her brother. She can bury him, so she must–even knowing that Creon's edict clearly stated that to do so means death, and knowing with certainty and clarity that that will be her fate. (There is no hope held out here: the Chorus defines hope as belonging to vulgar melodrama, not Tragedy.) Her sister, Ismene (Meghann Tabor), tries to talk her out of it but, like her father, Antigone is stubborn and prideful. She will do what she believes the gods need her to. (Creon later makes a secular argument pointing out how ridiculous the Greek beliefs are, but again–of course–it is to no avail.)

There are other characters here as well, and Jones' Chorus introduces them all at the start: marssie Mencotti's empathetic Nurse; Layke Fowler's Haemon, Creon's son and Antigone's betrothed; three guards (played for all of the comedy that Anouilh intended by Gunner Bradley, Brendan Hutt, and Gavin Blaine) who are more interested in their cell phones than their jobs; and two almost totally mute characters, Creon's wife Eurydice (Alex George) and his Page (Anthony J. Harris).

Trevor Dotson's set (adorned with lighting by RobbyMoe Reeves) gives everything a sense of the efficiency and calm that Creon prides himself on: this is less a palace than an office building for the businessman king. Rachel M. Sypniewski's costumes define everyone almost immediately, and there is some excellent sound work near the end as Alex Trinh evokes a slowly building angry crowd.

The centerpiece of this play is the long argument between Creon, determined to save his niece, and Antigone, equally determined not to be saved. It moves easily from beat to beat, as Creon shares the hidden true story of the war to try to dissuade her from choosing to die for a lie as well as a powerful monologue explaining why he said "Yes" to the kingship even though he never wanted it, all while Antigone tries to get her uncle to see why she has no choice at all in her actions–and neither does he. It's a brilliant debate between two determined and intelligent people, and the Dennises handle it extremely well. (It's also very loud at times: I suspect that their neighbors will be happy to put this one in the rearview mirror.) Neither Dennis holds anything back as the argument moves toward its inevitable ending.

There are also some quieter moments, which (if the director is anything like me) Carlson probably spent significant time on: scenes illustrating the sisters' relationship with each other and with their longtime Nurse, strong moments between Antigone and Haemon that show her personal self-doubts to contrast with the certainty of what she is now doing, even a quiet, reflective scene between Antigone and Bradley's Guard as they await the execution.

This version of Antigone, less well-known and certainly less often produced than Sophocles' classic telling of the tale, is the perfect one for these darker times when even truth itself is called into question and it's hard to know the best way to respond to what's going on. As Carlson points out, most of us would like to be Antigone, refusing to accept wrongful behavior, but it's frightening to do so, and we end up instead doing the safer thing: "we shield ourselves with logic and busy ourselves with meaningless tasks" as our world crumbles around us. It's not an unreasonable response. Ultimately, though, it can't change anything at all.

Anouilh's Antigone, produced by Promethean Theatre Ensemble, runs through June 27, 2026, at the Den Theatre, 1331 N. Milwaukee, Chicago IL. For tickets and information, please visit www.prometheantheatre.org.