Antigone (1986 TV Film)

 "When the state becomes one man, it ceases to be a state."

And so we come to the third and final iteration of Don Taylor's translations of Sophocles' Theban plays, made for the BBC in 1986. I was vaguely aware of Antigone by reputation, but this is the first time I've experienced the play. It packs quite a punch, to put it mildly.

The production retains the form of classical Athenian theatre, as with its predecessors, hence the slightly odd sight of the Chorus, with a number of very familiar British character actors speaking in unison. The costuming works well, evoking a dictatorship in the modern age, appropriately for the autocratic hubris of Creon who, this being classical Greek theatre, awaits his certain nemesis.

As with other plays, the visually dramatic moments (especially the deaths) happen offstage, with most of the drama consisting of an utterly enthralling dialogue of ideas. The premise is well-known- Antigone insists on giving her brother a proper burial despite Creon's newly enacted law making this a capital offence. And Creon is allowed to make some valid points- Antigone's brother was not only fighting against Thebes but wanted to destroy it and enslave its inhabitants, so Creon is entitled to feel aggrieved.

Yet his arrogance, his sheer insistence on his absolute power, is devastating and way over the top: at one point he tells the soldier who reports the illicit burial to either find the culprit or be tortured to death, which is a bit harsh! And the way he speaks to his son again shows such tyrannical hubris.

 In the cosmology in play here, the laws of the gods may not be overridden by the laws of men (yes, men- the dialogue makes the inevitable misogyny very, very clear!), and the arrogant Creon is doomed. His final downfall is almost as terrible as that of Oedipus.

The staging is, yes, a little flat, but that's the nature of the beast. Above all, the play is carried by extraordinary performances from Juliet Stevenson and John Shrapnel, who truly excel in a production that is devastatingly effective.

Oedipus at Colonus (1986 TV Film)

 "Only the gods escape the penalties of age and death. Time undermines everything. Nothing can stop the inevitable process of decay."

Blimey, is Sophocles always this bleak?

This is my second taste of his writing, and yet again in the form of a BBC televised play from 1986, translated and directed by Don Taylor. The production really works, with a strong cast (many well-known faces in the chorus!) and a very misty setting, stage-like yet using the medium of television to bring out mood. Anthony Quayle and Juliet Stevenson, in particular, excel as Oedipus and Antigone.

The contrast with Oedipus the King is marked. This play is far less overtly dramatic, far more talky and philosophical... and clearly the writing of a very old man, whose body is failing and who knows, as Oedipus does, that the end is far away. Indeed, he may well have been over 90 when he wrote this play, a rare happening for all of literature, let alone the Athens of the 5th century BC. Yet there's a constant emphasis on the inevitability of decay, entropy, decline: all things end, and always with sadness.

Yes, Oedipus dies painlessly, seemingly blessed by the gods, and able to bless Athens, the city that gave sanctuary to this refugee, and wisely so. We need more of Theseus in this world, and far less Nigel Farage.

Yet there is tragedy. His daughters are left bereft.... although, at least, Theseus offers her safe passage back to Thebes, where Antigone has promised a proper burial for her brother. I'm sure that will go fine. And Oedipus is now in the underworld, living the half existence of the dead. So yes, there is some catharsis, some closure. But only some. Suffering can be relieved, but only so much.

This is extraordinary. But oh, it's bleak!

Bend It Like Beckham (2002)

"Even these mosquito bites will look like juicy, juicy mangoes..”

I used to follow football a bit. At least international. Then the 2010 World Cup happened and I stopped watching football in disgust at England’s shameful display. The only football match I’ve watched since 2010 was the recent World Cup semi-final, and even that was only because it happened to be on. And I Never was anything more than a casual follower.

So the nice little fourth wall breaking bit at the start, for me, was a nice but if nostalgia for the days when I recognised the days of players and pundits- whatever happened to Alan Hansen? It’s a strong, fun start to a fun little film.

Yes, the film is formulaic to a large extent. A girl from a traditional Punjabi family struggles to get her traditional Sikh parents to accept what she wants to do with her life, football; it’s all a melodrama, albeit at the more restrained end; and there are lots of little references to culture clashes, racism, and sexism within the Indian and gora communities. It’s all done so well though, and the cast is superb, even if you do wish that Keira Knightley would just bloody have something to eat. All this to a soundtrack of Basement Jaxx and Mel C; you can certainly tell this is 2002. Such innocent days, long before Brexit, and when we all thought US presidents couldn’t get any worse than Bush. Hah.

Also, it’s about  fathers and daughters, which I like. This film may not be my usual fare but Mrs Llamastrangler and I very much enjoyed it.