Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s “Antigone”/Photo: Steven Townshend, Distant Era

What in the name of Zeus were they thinking?

That was the question that went through my head as I watched the opening moments of Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s “Antigone”—not Sophocles’ fourth-century BC tragedy, but rather the adaptation by French playwright Jean Anouilh, written in 1942 during the German occupation of France during World War II. Anouilh’s version sticks to the basic plot details of the original, but it substitutes a single narrator for the Greek chorus and makes him very French: self-possessed, coolly sophisticated, a touch cynical, someone aware of how the world works and isn’t shocked to discover that life isn’t always fair and human beings aren’t angels.

Director Elaine Carlson seems to have had difficulty dealing with the script’s hard-eyed realism, as embodied in Anouilh’s detached, omniscient narrator. As portrayed by Christina Renee Jones, the narrator exudes an exaggerated, almost clownish glee as she informs the audience of the ruin and grief facing all of the play’s major characters. Backed by an inappropriately cheerful background soundtrack, which sounds like elevator music scored for hammer dulcimer, Jones romps through her part with the forced smile of a TV spokesmodel, while the audience howled with well-cued laughter at the foreshadowing of the coming annihilation of the royal family of Thebes. Rarely have I witnessed such a mood-killing preface to a show, as the director and cast do their best to wring easy laughs out of sublime tragedy.

As I say—what were they thinking?

Fortunately, the work’s underlying plot is solid enough to withstand just about any such directorial lapses in judgment. The story centers on the princess Antigone, daughter of the doomed, incest-stained Oedipus, sister of Ismene, and of brothers Polynices and Eteocles, who slew each other before the action begins in a fratricidal struggle for control of Thebes. In the wake of the civil war, Antigone’s uncle Creon—a shrewd, scheming politician—is made king. He then proclaims that Eteocles will be buried with full honors as a hero of the state, whereas the body of Polynices, declared a traitor, will be left to rot just outside the city gates, as a lesson to other potential rebels. Antigone cannot accept this indignity done to her brother, believing it prevents his departed soul from finding rest. Defying her uncle the king, Antigone sneaks out at night alone to scatter earth over her brother’s remains, an act that has been prohibited on pain of death. Caught by the guards (who, in a modern touch, kill time by staring at their devices, and are played by Gunner Bradley, Brendan Hutt and Gavin Blayne) assigned to watch over Polynices’ corpse, she is hauled before Creon (who is also the father of Haemon, her fiance, played by Layke Fowler) for judgment.

The stage is set for the epic confrontation between the remorseless logic of the state, as embodied by Creon, and the dictates of individual conscience guided by religious belief, in the person of Antigone. Almost twenty-five-hundred years after it was written, the play still resonates strongly, encapsulating as it does the eternal tension between law and morality, between our public and private selves.

Jared Dennis, Promethean’s artistic director, nails the part of Creon, imparting a slick punctiliousness that serves as cover for the harshness of his policies and his contempt for the populace. Dennis’ Creon is more corporate CEO than stereotypical tyrant, insulated by his crisply tailored suit, neat desk, deep arrogance and loyal aide (played by a silent but observant Anthony J. Harris) from the real lives of the people and the pain produced by his own pitiless decrees.

As Antigone, Heather Dennis gives an emotionally moving but intellectually and rhetorically less compelling performance than Jared Dennis (who happens to be her real-life husband). From her first appearance—arguing with her pretty but wishy-washy sister Ismene (Meghann Tabor) and trying to placate her old, troubled nurse (played by the always-reliable marssie Mencotti)—her brave but futile gesture come off more as the product of willfulness and pique than of rock-solid inner strength and ethical conviction.

Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s “Antigone,” with Jared Dennis and Heather Dennis/Photo: Steven Townshend, Distant Era

Antigone’s self-righteous fervor is no match for the smooth-tongued, calculating Creon during their verbal duel. One can only speculate as to why playwright Anouilh made Creon so formidable a debater: perhaps because of the reality of German censorship, which made it unwise to depict raw authority in a less-than-favorable light. Or maybe it’s simply the fact that entrenched power, backed by what the writer describes as a blindly obedient, “eternally indifferent” police force, always argues with confidence.

In any event, the climactic face-off between Creon and Antigone—which takes place in Trevor Dotson’s deliberately sterile, office-like set, featuring a background of textured slabs suggestive of weathered columns—makes for shatteringly good and startlingly relevant drama. Creon makes the pragmatic, elitist point that “someone has to agree to captain the ship” in order to “introduce a little order into this absurd place,” while Antigone counters, with more passion than rigor, that order without freedom or idealism makes for a life not worth living. The arguments are rooted in the situation of France in 1942, when people had to choose whether to make a risky and very possibly losing political stand or retreat into the safer, less heroic and more self-centered private realm. As our own institutions weaken and our society becomes more despotic and less free, we too face a similar moment of decision.

Anouilh’s “Antigone” doesn’t push us one way or the other, but it does show us what the positions and stakes are, and asks us to make up our own mind. As such, it’s an important play, one that deserves a serious, fully thought-out production that maintains a consistent tone from beginning to end and doesn’t lose its edge whenever the narrator is on stage.

These comical moments are probably intended to draw a modern audience into an old and downbeat story. But “Antigone” isn’t a play that should go down easily. Its central struggle between two radically opposed philosophies of existence is supposed to shake us to the core and make us question who we are and how we live.

Promethean’s staging of Anouilh’s adaptation has its good points but lacks unity of vision. It does serve to remind us of just how central a position the character of Antigone retains in our collective imagination, after all this time. And it points the way, one hopes, for other and more potent tellings of her harrowing story.

Promethean Theatre Ensemble’s “Anouilh’s Antigone” runs through June 27 at The Den Theatre, 1331 North Milwaukee. Tickets are $42 general admission, $31 for students and seniors, and are available at The Den Theatre box office, (773) 697-3830 or online at prometheantheatre.org.