We don’t translate to smooth over meaning — we translate to expose its fracture.
This version of Antigone retains key Greek terms (nomos, atē, phronēma) where English fails to carry their weight.
The result is not just a script, but a language experiment: precise, poetic, and disobedient.
Words remain jagged, syntax resists flow — like grief, like guilt, like a body not yet buried.
Audiences are invited not to decode, but to dwell in what’s left unresolved.
We aren’t updating Sophocles. We’re returning to the ancient text to see what still haunts the present.
This is not a translation that makes the strange familiar.
It lets the familiar grow strange.
We keep the Greek — not to mystify, but to remind you: some concepts don’t submit to clarity.
They demand to be felt.

When words falter, the body continues.
Our staging uses gesture — drawn from Brechtian gestus, ritual movement, and choreographic echoes — to make visible what language cannot contain.
Gesture replaces explanation. It holds contradiction.
It draws the audience into an embodied experience of law, loss, and resistance.
We borrow from ancient rites and everyday habits alike — a shrug, a burial, a breath held too long.
These gestures are not illustrative. They’re declarative.
They reveal power structures, social roles, and emotional logic — even when speech is withheld.
In a play about silence, gesture becomes survival.
It allows actors to speak with and against the text.
It invites the audience to watch not just what is said, but what is risked.

Auslan (Australian Sign Language) is not an add-on — it’s part of the dramaturgy.
In our production, Auslan is integrated into the fabric of performance: woven through ritual, rhythm, and the fragmentation of speech.
It makes visible the gaps in translation — between languages, between people, between the living and the dead.
The signing actor is not a translator, but a co-performer.
Auslan becomes a second text: physical, visual, poetic.
It reveals hidden tensions and emphasises silence as an active force.
Audiences who sign may notice layers others miss — and vice versa.
This is a shared space, but not a uniform one.
We believe that access can shape form.
And that Deaf culture brings new meaning to a play obsessed with speech, silence, and refusal.