Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

I was rather flippant about Greek drama throughout my time at university (much to the chagrin of every single professor teaching the unit), but even I had to concede to the immense talent of Sophocles: to cast a myth like Oedipus' on stage with such eloquence, and without leaning on its sensationalism, is inconceivable elsewhere in the theatrical tradition—unsurprising, then, that his Theban Plays have today become authoritative sources, rather than mere tellings, of the fate of the House of Cadmus.

In his acclaimed and unerringly beautiful translation, Robert Fagles reclaims for the three plays�Antigone, Oedipus the King, and Oedipus at Colonus, arranged in order of composition rather than narrative chronology—a sense of crisp, lucid triumph, revealing their timelessness while also honouring the relevance of their politics for the Athenian audiences they were originally intended for. Despite being about a hundred generations too late a witness, I found myself completely immersed within the pages of these ancient tragedies.

Antigone (c. 441 BCE)

Antigone au chevet de Polynices by Jean-Joseph Benjamin-Constant (1868)

My favourite of the three, Antigone is a work of astounding depth� masterful tragedy dealing with familial love, treachery, and morality in the face of despotic rule. Rebellion, too, is an important theme, be it Antigone's breaking the ruler's decree or Haemon opposing his own father. The protagonist's heroic temper, her defiance of authority, and her willingness to give up life and love in order to fulfill her moral duty has led to many interpreting this as a feminist play.

But beyond that, Antigone is also a complex exploration of our notions of 'right' and 'wrong'. Sophocles does not see his characters' actions as purely black and white: we get a glimpse of the true motivations governing Creon's degree as well as Antigone's transgression, and while we are explicitly told that Creon was wrong and see him suffer, it is only for his proud renunciation of divine power and familial ties—neither the Chorus nor Sophocles himself seem to find fault with his statecraft. Meanwhile, no affirmation of Antigone's rightness is ever made. However, unlike Creon, she does not betray the loyalties she spoke for, and dies believing in the rightness of her actions even if others do not seem to.

While her death is part of the curse against the House of Cadmus—the same prophecy that led to the ruin of her father, Oedipus, and drove her brothers Etiocles and Polynices to kill each other—it is also an act of heroism, of upholding the laws of divinity and nature and standing up against the barbaric. Thus, Antigone explores the ideas of predestination and agency in tandem with each other, a concern dominant in Greek drama in general and the Theban plays in particular.

Oedipus the King (c. 430-426 BCE)

Blind Oedipus Commending his Children by Bénigne Gagneraux (1784)

Perhaps the most prominent exploration of fate and free will in Sophoclean tragedy takes place in Oedipus the King: while he is destined to commit the acts of patricide and incest that we know him for, it is through his own determined, willful pursuit that this terrible truth comes to light and becomes known. Most importantly, however, the play illustrates divine indictment against the hubris of Oedipus and Jocasta, who believe that they can subvert the prophecy through their actions. That this play is focused on the discovery of Oedipus's sins rather than the sins themselves serves to highlight this latter aspect of the story (this, according to Bernard Knox, is rooted in contemporary politics; Sophocles wrote this play asserting the superiority of divine will at a time when the institution of the Oracle—and thereby the validity of the gods themselves—was under public fire).

While this notion of predestination in the original myth was transformed and appropriated by the Freudian lens in the early 20th century; Oedipus the King transformed modern drama by presenting an existential model for stories dealing with our own terror of the unknown, uncontrollable future and the idea that our progress; Like Oedipus' success; will unwittingly bring us to our doom. All of this, moreover, allows Sophocles to master the art of dramatic irony, which is in many ways the lifeblood of this play.

It is no wonder that Oedipus the King has long been considered the most distinguished of all Greek tragedy—enough can never be said about a play like this, one so deeply rooted in our exploration of the complexities of art, society, and the human condition.

Oedipus at Colonus (c. 406 BCE)

Oedipus at Colonus by Jean-Antoine-Théodore Giroust (1788)

Written at the age of 90, Oedipus at Colonus was Sophocles' last play, hyperaware of the spectre of impending war and destruction loomed over Athens at the time. It has the least mythical precedent of all Theban plays, and is the tragedian's valedictory reminder of the glory, benevolence, and fame of Athens. This is also the play where Oedipus, whose terrible ruin is part of a divine curse on his bloodline, is finally redeemed, by yet another prophecy: in his death, Oedipus is raised from mortal to hero, he is also able to avenge the wrongs committed unto him by his sons Etiocles and Polynices and his other kinsmen in Thebes.

Here, Oedipus expresses his helplessness as an instrument of fate, and thereby achieves glory: although he is still polluted, he is extricated of blame and dies a painless death. His grave, as per the redemptive prophecy, becomes the site of a war bringing doom to Thebes; that has wronged him; and Victory to Athens, whose ruler, the noble Theseus, saves him (it is through Theseus that Sophocles affirms the spirit of Athens at its peak). This is also a far more mystical play than its predecessors, dealing with furies and rituals, but this only enhances the effect of the hero being lifted to a position that is more than human—reverential, and almost holy.

While Oedipus at Colonus is only the second play concerning the House of Cadmus in Thebes if a narrative chronology is considered, its thematic concerns render it the perfect end to Sophocles' Theban triad. While fate has mark Oedipus with tragedy, and the end of his bloodline is known, this play manages to inject in this sagas a communion with the gods, and thus, a note of hope.