Tag Archives: Ellen Cheshire

ANTIGONE EXITS

★★★★

Minerva Theatre

ANTIGONE EXITS

Minerva Theatre

★★★★

“a thought-provoking and often deeply moving piece of theatre”

Sophocles’ Antigone is more than 2,000 years old, but its central conflict remains remarkably immediate. Antigone’s brother has died in a civil war and her uncle, Creon, now king, has forbidden anyone to bury his body. Antigone is determined to defy him, whatever the consequences.

Antigone Exits, Nina Segal’s adaptation, brings this ancient tragedy into the present day, connecting its questions about war, duty, authority, grief and the treatment of the dead with contemporary experiences. It is a refreshing production that finds an unusual way to make a very old story feel newly relevant.

Seven performers in casual contemporary clothes inhabit the characters, but they also function as something like a Greek chorus. They speak collectively, narrate events and give voice to thoughts that might otherwise remain unspoken. At other points, some step completely outside the drama, moving into the centre of the circle, picking up a microphone and sharing a modern story or experience.

This shifting approach works particularly well. A line such as ‘her child’s questions fill her head’ allows the performers to move beyond simply acting the story and into a shared narration of what the characters are thinking and feeling. The contemporary testimonies then broaden the themes of the tragedy. Some draw direct parallels with current conflicts, including a harrowing recounting of the bodies of five babies recovered in Gaza, while others are more personal, touching on family, childhood, mortality and loss. Max Bennett’s meta-reflection on Antigone through the prism of personal tragedy is particularly powerful and moving.

The seven performers work particularly well as an ensemble. Nina Cassells brings determination and vulnerability to Antigone, while Max Bennett makes Creon a compelling figure, convinced that his decisions are necessary. Anushka Chakravarti (Ismene), Brandon Bassir (Eteocles and Haemon), Lizzy Watts (Eurydice), Melody Chikakane Brown (Tiresias) and Testimony Adegbite (Polyneices and Messenger) all contribute to a company that works particularly well as a collective, moving fluidly between character, chorus and contemporary storyteller. The doubling is especially effective: as Eteocles and Polyneices die, Bassir and Adegbite move into their other roles, reinforcing the sense of a story continually being re-told by those left behind.

Alex Lowde’s design is striking in its simplicity. The stage is painted yellow, with a huge white sphere, rather like a quarter of an eggshell, suspended above it. The actors are already sitting inside it as the audience arrives, and they return to it during the performance, using three boulders to move between the sphere and the floor. There are no conventional sets or props. At one point Antigone pours a black liquid into a perfect circle on the floor, which slowly spreads throughout the performance as the actors carefully avoid it, until they don’t.

The visual effect becomes increasingly potent as the tragedy unfolds. The spreading liquid gradually takes over more of the space, becoming an increasingly powerful image as the body count rises. There is also a striking dance sequence, choreographed by James Cousins, to David Bowie’s ‘Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide’. Uncomfortable to watch and deliberately disruptive, it throws you out of the mood but remains a memorable moment.

Jeff James’s direction keeps the shifts between tragedy, narration and contemporary testimony fluid, without allowing the production to become static. At just 70 minutes, it is a concentrated piece of theatre, but there is plenty here to take away and think about.

There are moments when the contemporary parallels are deliberately direct, but the production is at its most effective when it allows the connections between the ancient story and the present day to emerge through the performers’ experiences.

Segal has created an Antigone that feels both recognisable and unexpected. Its ancient questions remain, but the ways in which they are asked make this a thought-provoking and often deeply moving piece of theatre.



ANTIGONE EXITS

Minerva Theatre

Reviewed on 1st October 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Andy Paradise

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANTIGONE EXITS

ANTIGONE EXITS

ANTIGONE EXITS

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

★★★½

Chichester Festival Theatre

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

Chichester Festival Theatre

★★★½

“when the sweaty, chaotic fairy world takes over, it gives the play a suitably messy sense of freedom and desire”

There is something faintly quaint about setting A Midsummer Night’s Dream in 1994 Sussex. It is recent enough to feel familiar, but distant enough now for some of the cultural references to have become period detail. They don’t always hang together. Justin Audibert and Hannah Joss’s production brings Shakespeare’s lovers to the cathedral city of Chichester and the South Downs. Here, Tory MP Theseus is cracking down on illegal raves in the run-up to his wedding, while Oberon and Titania are preparing their own rather more illicit party. The conceit can feel a little out of place and out of time, but there are plenty of things that work.

The strongest is the fairy world. David Sturzaker’s Oberon and Eve Ponsonby’s Titania are sweaty, drug-addled and thoroughly unkempt, with their fairy followers looking as though they have been dancing on the Downs for several days and nights. Oberon’s grubby Rolling Stones T-shirt and Titania’s shimmering silvery outfit, complete with impressively unwashed, matted hair, create exactly the right contrast. Shane David-Joseph’s Puck, in shiny leisurewear and chomping on a cigar, is equally at home in this world. Oberon’s ritual with the drugs used for the love potions is particularly effective, while he directs the action from his DJ booth and Puck gets the party going.

The rave world is full of neon, fluffy cushions, vivid colours and smiley faces, with the dancers bringing plenty of energy to the production. The grass-covered thrust stage is backed by a large, pyramid-shaped timber structure, with Elliot Griggs’s neon-centric lighting adding plenty of colour and energy. Cubed spaces representing the MP’s office, the wedding venue and Titania’s neon-lit boudoir move in and out of the timber structure. Grounding the adaptation geographically as well as politically are references to places around Chichester, while the South Downs make a suitably magical setting for the lovers to escape into. The real landscape has plenty of enchantment of its own, but Joanna Scotcher’s set doesn’t quite capture it. It’s an interesting conceit, but the result feels a little lacklustre, perhaps relying rather more than it should on a local audience to supply some of the associations and atmosphere that the landscape itself might have provided.

The 1994 setting does provide some political mischief. Tom Kanji’s buttoned-up Tory MP Theseus and Celeste Dodwell’s frozen, lacquered-hair fiancée Hippolyta look every inch the respectable political couple, but behind closed doors they can barely keep their hands off each other. Theseus’s office is dominated by a huge photograph of Margaret Thatcher, which the more liberally minded Lysanda happily defaces. It is a neat reminder of the political world this production is playing with, from the Tory sleaze scandals of the period to the crackdown on illegal raves, which reflects the introduction of the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act that same year.

The gender changes among the lovers add an interesting dimension, hinting at social changes that were still to come. Angela Saint’Albano’s Hermia and Ellie Larkin’s Lysanda have a relationship that feels genuinely affectionate, making their eventual falling-out more painful, while Freya Parks’ Helena gets plenty to play with as the spurned lover in the first half. Kieran Taylor-Ford’s Demetrius is a little less distinctive alongside the three women, but once the magic starts to scramble their affections, Saint’Albano gets some great comic frustration when both Lysanda and Demetrius suddenly turn against her.

The mechanicals are members of the Conservative Party rehearsing a play to impress their local MP, with Bottom working in the local video shop and keen to bring his screen heroes into his performance. There are some good dynamics among them too, particularly Kieran Walker’s put-upon Flute and Anna Soden’s Robyn Starveling, who is clearly rather enamoured of Bottom. The standout performance comes from Munya Chawawa as Bottom, who gives him an infectious combination of self-importance and sheer silliness, with terrific physical comedy and a particularly charming hiccupping ‘hee-haw’ after his transformation.

The production moves at a good pace, shifting between the lovers, mechanicals and fairy world without letting any one strand dominate. The 1994 setting may not always convince, but when the sweaty, chaotic fairy world takes over, it gives the play a suitably messy sense of freedom and desire. And I suspect Bottom’s pronunciation of ‘prologue’ will stay with me for a long time.



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

Chichester Festival Theatre

Reviewed on 25th September 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

 

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM