This week Woody discusses something he’s been working on for By Jove’s upcoming version of The Bacchae.
Hello. I admit I’ve been neglecting the blog recently. I apologise unreservedly for that. You’ll be pleased to know I have at least been doing some useful things for the company. We’ve been having lots of interesting discussions recently, I’ve just been remiss about sharing the fruits of said chats with you. We’re about to go into workshop to create something based on Euripides’ Bacchae, details of which are forthcoming.
Pentheus’ Death
The basic plot of the myth is that the god Dionysus returns to Thebes to take revenge on the ruling family for their role in his mother’s death.His divine presence sends the women of the city up the mountainside to worship him in interesting and spectacular ways. He then manipulates Pentheus, king of Thebes and his own mortal cousin, into spying on the women who tear him limb from in frenzy. Pentheus’ mother is the one who tears his head off. Suitably tragic, wot?
Euripides’ version is centered on Pentheus himself: his anger at the polis’ women leaving; his refusal to accept Dionysus’ cult as that of a true god; his being tricked by a disguised Dionysus; his death and people’s reaction to it. We here at By Jove HQ doing have the words ‘feminist theatre company’ emblazoned on our souls, so I imagine our version will focus more on the women in the myth.
It is with that in mind that I started on my current job, to draft some choral odes to provide inspiration for our workshops and possibly be part of the final piece. I wondered: “What is it about Dionysus’ cult which was so appealing to the women of Thebes?” You may think their opinion doesn’t much come into it, because they were put under his divine spell. I’m not so sure. In the high literature – epic poetry and tragedy – the gods are used as personifications of aspects of the world in general, and human psychology in particular. The god in question here is Dionysus, who gave wine to humanity, and who was called Eleutherios – “the liberator”. Having a drink lowers one’s inhibitions, lets one unclench one’s mind, and relax. This ability to relax the holds on oneself would be, I imagine, a particularly initing prospect if one was a woman living in as patriarchal society as Ancient Greece. This being a society that held ‘modesty’ as one of the better virtues a woman could have. It is this invitation to let one’s hair down which would have made the Dionysiac cult so appealing. A religious obligation to have a “girl’s night out” sounds like quite an idea. It’s also worth noting that in the historical cult, even after men were allowed to join in the worship seems to have been run by women.
So I wrote a thing. It might not make it into the final show, or need rewriting to fit the show, but it should be a conversation starter for our future workshops. Also I think it’s quite a nice poem, and I’d like to share it with you. If you prefer to listen to your poetry I’ve put a recording here. Otherwise you can read it below.
In The Woods With Dionysus
A quiet space between the trees.
The ease of simply being us
When we don’t have to trust
That those Others who are unlike you and me
Will continue to be as friendly
As those civilised smiles seem to seem
Without a witness to guard us with their glance.
The business of knowing how well
Things are going can be hell
When the showing of the swell of a breast,
Or failing a test on how our gender or sex
Should act might engender an attack
Of cutting derision, or fists.
So we’ve made the decision to go apart
To the quiet bliss of a separate space
Where we can talk or unselfconsciously dance
At our own pace. In our own way.
We invoke the name of our new deity
Who is reviled because they are foreign.
But it shouldn’t be abhorrent
To keep our liberated gaiety free from those
Who suppose we should be pleased
At how easy it would be to conform to their world,
And perform in a way which they say is more normal.
Hurl away the box in which you’re kept,
Refuse to accept their labels.
You are able to reclaim who you were before
They told you what you are.
Roar your true self at the stars, here beside us,
As we stand in the woods, free, with Dionysus.
One hopes you’re well,
yours,
ADWoodward
