Bacchae

If, like me, you had Greek Tragedy down as an austere thing, full of parched plains, unswerving Fate and dour verse, then 'The Bacchae' might come as a pleasant surprise. It has these things of course, but the first quality that shocks is the vibrant, fervid excess of the language. The story concerns Dionysus, the God of wine, the Life Force, the Chaos of the Irrational etc., who inspires a possessed devotion in his acolytes, as they express themselves in high-flown, ecstatic rhapsodies. Not every one takes this proto-hippie's divinity seriously, in particular the family of his mortal mother, led by the impetuous teenage king Pentheus, who sees all this Bacchanalia in the woods and mountains in loose robes as so much lechery. Dionysus exacts such terrible revenge on these unbelievers that 'Bacchae' makes Shakespeare's 'Titus Andronicus' look like a Julie Andrews vehicle.
If Sophocles' 'Oedipus the King' is the first detective story, than 'Bacchae' might be the first police procedural - a central sequence sees Pentheus arrest Dionysus and interrogate him, a scene as tightly written and suspenseful as any thriller. But detection and policing, embodying the forces of reason and the Law, have no power against the Irrational or Unknowable, and Pentheus is soon made mad, his order and sense of self in tatters. The terrible grip of irony familiar from Greek Tragedy gives the play a violent momentum, but the most extraordinary scenes take place offstage, related in vivid and tumultuous monolgues by messengers - the whirlwind revenge of Dionysus' female followers on the forces of surveilling civilisation, and the cruel enactment of the God's revenge. This idea of hearing about improbable catastrophes but not being able to see them adds ot the supernatural terror that is the play's fevered life-blood.

I am a classical history major with a focus on poetry and drama. I have actually read Bacchae in Attic Greek and I have to say that I find this translation to be one of the most fluid and natural of any that I have ever read. I would highky recommend this to anyone looking for a well-written, very gory introduction to Greek theatre. This edition is also great for using as a script, wheras many translations are good only for reading. I just put up a production using this translation and my actors were very comfortable with the wonderful language Woodruff uses.

A solid translation of the fascinating and passionate story of Dionysus in Thebes, although it lacks the lyricism of other translations. Woodruff's version is meant to be performed aloud, and so it has more of the feel of a play to it. Students of literature and classics might want a different version; students of drama and theatre would be interested in this translation.

After having my eyes opened by Willaims' translation, I decided to revisit Rudall's work. While Williams is poetic and prone to flights of fancy, Rudall is more down to earth, which is appropriate for a god like Dionysus.

Yes he is a god of frenzy, but he is also a god of dying. I think this is why dance is sacred to him. Dance feels gravity's pull, leaps against it, succumbs to it, and leaps yet again. Life that is tied to the earth tries to transcend it, and struggles until it falls exhausted to the ground, only to rise and struggle again. It ain't all about exaultation, but is also about falling down.

Williams' translation sometimes flies away like a flock of pretty birds. Rudall keeps pulling us back to earth, back to the mysteries, and helps us plumb the depths of this play's truths. He doesn't let a bunch of pretties get in the way. He makes sure we see Everything.

"The Bacchae" was written by Euripides when he was living in Macedonia in virtual exile during the last years of his life. The tragedy was performed in Athens after his death. These factors are important in appreciate this particular Greek tragedy because such plays were performed at a festival that honored the Dionysus, and in "The Bacchae" he is the god who extracts a horrible vengeance. The tragedy clearly demonstrates the god's power, but it is a terrible power, which suggests less than flattering things about the deity himself.

Pentheus was the son of Echion and Agave, the daughter of Cadmus, the founder of the Royal House of Thebes. After Cadmus stepped down the throne, Pentheus took his place as king of Thebes. When the cult of Dionysus came to Thebes, Pentheus resisted the worship of the god in his kingdom. However, his mother and sisters were devotees of the god and went with women of the city to join in the Dionsysian revels on Mount Cithaeron. Pentheus had Dionysus captured, but the god drove the king insane, who then shackled a bull instead of the god. When Pentheus climbed a tree to witness in secret the reverly of the Bacchic women, he was discovered and torn to pieces by his mother and sisters, who, in their Bacchic frenzy, believed him to be a wild beast. The horrific action is described in gory detail by a messenger, which is followed by the arrival of the frenzied and bloody Agave, the head of her son fixed atop her thytsus.

Unlike those stories of classical mythology which are at least mentioned in the writings of Homer, the story of Pentheus originates with Euripides. The other references in classical writing, the "Idylls" written by the Syracusean poet Theocritus and the "Metamorphoses" of the Latin poet Ovid, both post-date"The Bacchae" by centuries. On those grounds, the tragedy of Euripides would appear to be entirely his construct, which would certainly give it an inherent uniqueness over his interpretations of the stories of "Medea," "Electra," and "The Trojan Women."

I see "The Bacchae" as being Euripides' severest indictment of religion and not as the recantation of his earlier rationalism in his old age. The dramatic conflicts of the play stem from religious issues, and without understanding the opposition on Appollonian grounds of Pentheus to the new cult readers miss the ultimate significance of the tragedy. This is not an indictment of Appollonian rationalism, but rather a dramatic argument that, essentially, it is irrational to ignore the irrational. As the fate of Pentheus amply points out, it is not only stupid to do so, it is fatal.