Recently, Milo's school forwarded to me a link offering a parent and child team the opportunity to enter in a story writing contest chaired by Robert Munsch. The grand prize was a home visit by Munsch himself, a creepy idea if ever there was one if you ask me, but there were other prizes. Milo goes to a school in which he participates in a behavioural program. That is to say he is designated as behaviourally challenged. While his IQ is off the charts (literally - he didn't inherit that from either of his parents!), he apparently suffers from the following: "He experiences his emotions more powerfully than most and has trouble managing social situations when the experience overwhelms him." At least I know he comes by that honestly. For the most part he is simply delightful, but when one of his episodes manifests, it can be quite explosive. I was delighted to focus his attention on this creative family activity for a short while. He dictated his ideas to me and I wrote them as he stated them (for the most part) with only minor changes and edits. When we went to the website contest submission page we discovered that we had missed the submission deadline by two days. Milo was a little heart-broken so I wrote a letter to the website contact email pleading our case for a late submission. Of course, we received no response. Fortunately, as often as he can become emotional, Milo also has the ability to let minor disappointments roll off his back. The following is Milo's story.
My name is Milo. I am 8-years-old. I have six brothers and sisters: Rory, Megan, Blair, Camille, Aiden, and Lilian. Sometimes it’s hard for my Dad and Step-Mom to play with me because there are so many children to take care of. Lucky for me, we have a trampoline! All my brothers and sisters like to play on it. We play a bouncy version of Blind Man’s Bluff. One person is ‘it’ and must close their eyes. The ‘it’ person stands safely in the middle. The rest of us bounce around and try to avoid being touched. Bounce! Boing! Bounce! Bump! Tag! “You’re it!” If someone gets touched, it is their turn to close their eyes and be ‘it’. My oldest brother makes sure we are all safe and don’t get hurt. Bounce! Boing! Bounce! Bump! Thump! Tag! “You’re it, now!” My oldest sister makes us all laugh and giggle. Bounce! Boing! Bounce! Bump! Thump! Giggle! Tag! “You’re it this time!” My Dad says, “It sure is funny to see all you kids bouncing together.” It’s SO funny that sometimes he stops cooking, or cleaning, or working and comes out to bounce too. BOUNCE! BOING! BOUNCE! BUMP! THUMP! GIGGLE! GUFFAW! TAG! “YOU’RE IT, DAD!” I love the trampoline.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
CHALK!
I write and I write and I write. I tap out another thesis and I acquire another grade. Alas, all too often I forget why I started doing this in the first place. But every once in a while I get an opportunity to attend some actual theatre. Ahhhh, the theatre . . . (deep breath) . . . in all its glory. And all too often I’m disappointed. But not this time. SNAFU Dance Company and William Head on Stage have produced a piece for the ages: Chalk! I’m no humanitarian, I have no taste for the avante-garde, and I’m the first to cry ‘Euro-trash!’ when I see it. But not this time. Blurring the lines between childhood folly and adult transgression, Chalk! affords the inmate performers at William Head the opportunity to live out beautiful and terrifying moments of childhood that they never had, or never escaped. I normally raise an eyebrow at how valuable applied theatre can be, but this one may have me convinced. Emotional crescendos of jubilance and pathos pepper the drawn out moments of slow and contemplative physical representation. Particularly talented was the inmate who played ‘Tuk-Took’ (who, as an actor, is required to remain anonymous for legal reasons). He hit a variety of delicate emotions with substantial virtuosity. For a piece that is ostensibly all white, the performance was saturated with colourful emotion. As a fellow grad student, Anne Cirillo is someone I usually see as merely the person with whom I share funding, but her performance was emotionally powerful from beginning to end. The piece gives fresh life to old questions without pretension; it answers none of them. Overall, it was a touch too long. It was clumsy in places, and awkward in others, but delightful through and through. Most of the audience was riveted. The rest were fidgety. Fortunately, I fell into the former category. For a piece entirely void of dialogue, I am an audience member who would normally be proned to fall asleep. But not this time. As a movement performance, I assure you, it was wholly moving.
See you in hell,
Shakes.
See you in hell,
Shakes.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Seek the Source
In all lives there must fall some rain, and in every collection of stories there must be some that are inappropriate, and some that are just downright childish. If you are one of those people that is so puritanically crippled that a good fart story is offensive to you, then please stop reading now. In fact, stop reading altogether and never log on again. But I digress.
Marianne never ceases to amaze me but sometimes her Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (which is admittedly only mild most of the time) manifests itself in the most ridiculous ways. After having spent the last three years in Marianne's close company, and with a family in tow, a certain inexplicable habit of hers has revealed itself in a pattern of behaviour. The other day, Blair was having one of his flatulent days at the same time that Camille and Aiden were. Everyone has days like that but Blair's tend to be particularly assaulting to the olfactory senses. Marianne once called him 'Blart'. In an open yard, the offensive aroma can be escaped but in the close confines of our family van, even opening all of the windows offers only scant relief. Earlier in the day, at the dinner table, their tummy rumblings had already become obvious, much to the destruction of everyone's appetite. Later, when we were driving along towards some family objective, the van became absolutely untenable. We rolled down the windows and gasped for fresh air. Marianne, however, began contemplating. "*sniff*sniff* You know, we had hot dogs two nights ago. *sniff*sniff* But they all have a faster metabolism than that. *sniff*sniff* Maybe it was the combination of chocolate . . . *sniff* . . . and I think, . . . *sniff* oranges, that they had yesterday." And this is not the first time she has done this. While most people smell a fart and either try to escape its foul stench, or laugh at it, Marianne seems hell-bent on discovering the source - that elusive but specific combination of foods that someone must have ingested that might have resulted in just that particular stench. When she does it, it adds a certain extra level of discomfort to the odour as one imagines the entire digestive process, simultaneously funnier and more disgusting. I don't think she does it to torture us further, but she certainly revels in her detective-like deductions. She is like the Sherlock Holmes of fart sources. 'When you eliminate the impossible foods, whatever you is left, no matter how unlikely, must be the foods that caused that fart.'
See you in hell,
Shakes.
Marianne never ceases to amaze me but sometimes her Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (which is admittedly only mild most of the time) manifests itself in the most ridiculous ways. After having spent the last three years in Marianne's close company, and with a family in tow, a certain inexplicable habit of hers has revealed itself in a pattern of behaviour. The other day, Blair was having one of his flatulent days at the same time that Camille and Aiden were. Everyone has days like that but Blair's tend to be particularly assaulting to the olfactory senses. Marianne once called him 'Blart'. In an open yard, the offensive aroma can be escaped but in the close confines of our family van, even opening all of the windows offers only scant relief. Earlier in the day, at the dinner table, their tummy rumblings had already become obvious, much to the destruction of everyone's appetite. Later, when we were driving along towards some family objective, the van became absolutely untenable. We rolled down the windows and gasped for fresh air. Marianne, however, began contemplating. "*sniff*sniff* You know, we had hot dogs two nights ago. *sniff*sniff* But they all have a faster metabolism than that. *sniff*sniff* Maybe it was the combination of chocolate . . . *sniff* . . . and I think, . . . *sniff* oranges, that they had yesterday." And this is not the first time she has done this. While most people smell a fart and either try to escape its foul stench, or laugh at it, Marianne seems hell-bent on discovering the source - that elusive but specific combination of foods that someone must have ingested that might have resulted in just that particular stench. When she does it, it adds a certain extra level of discomfort to the odour as one imagines the entire digestive process, simultaneously funnier and more disgusting. I don't think she does it to torture us further, but she certainly revels in her detective-like deductions. She is like the Sherlock Holmes of fart sources. 'When you eliminate the impossible foods, whatever you is left, no matter how unlikely, must be the foods that caused that fart.'
See you in hell,
Shakes.
The Truth Is Out
Marianne is an intoxicating mix of psychosis and sensuality. I was doomed from the start to fall madly in love with her. Never in my life had I been so ruthlessly and efficiently hunted by a woman who knew what she wanted. Even when she was pushing me away, retrospect causes me to be suspicious that it was all part of some master plan, meticulously devised to achieve her desired ends, and all completely unbeknownst to me. Her wildcat certainly trumped my wolf and I am humbled. And it is not just in romantic endeavours that she is a force to be reckoned with. Recently a dear friend, while surrounding a campfire with a group that stayed with us following the wedding, coined the term "Attilla the Mom" at her expense - both funny and entirely accurate. Her role in our family is indispensable and her ability to master the house only recently grounded itself in an explanation.
The kids had gotten in the habit of 'pantsing' each other. Yes, it is as it appears. It is a colloquialism in which the noun 'pants' is turned into a verb. The action entails coming up behind someone, quickly grabbing their pants at both sides and instantly tugging them down while yelling "Pantsed!" While there are occasions that it might be inappropriate, I have to admit, there have been as many occasions when I couldn't help but laugh. Especially funny is when one of the boys, often in loose-fitting pajama pants, is bouncing up and down in front of some video game, completely distracted, and facing squarely towards the television. One of the other kids gives them a dose of pantsing and usually everyone laughs, including the victim.
Eventually, however, Marianne had had enough. Nevertheless, Marianne recognizes good hilarity as much as the next person, and it was all she could do to contain her own laughter when she laid down a rule that even she knew would be impracticable to enforce. "That's it! The next person who pantses someone will have to spend the entire next day naked, even if we go out shopping or you have to go to school!" She didn't realize until later how little the threat was to someone like Milo or Aiden who would just as happily forego the encumbrance of clothing in any situation. In fact, I don't think I would care much either, and the challenge was just too much to resist.
Later that day, Marianne was in the kitchen with myself and a few of the kids. She climbed up on to a blue stool that we keep handy in the kitchen to reach the higher shelves (since all of us are quite short, except for Rory of late). At the same moment I was leaning down to load some dishes into the dishwasher. When I lifted my head I found myself at eye level with her crotch. Never one to miss a golden opportunity, I grabbed her pajama pants and gave with a yank. What I found myself staring at only inches from my face was startling. Much to everyone's surprise, Marianne was wearing some kind of thong underwear with bright blue stripes, and the red Superwoman logo front and centre. The cut of the undies made them look like a cross between a Wonder Woman outfit and a Superman costume. I did a double-take and so did the kids. "What the . . .?"
Marianne, also never one to miss a golden opportunity, must have seen our expressions of dumbfounded surprise and, standing just above us aloft her stool mount, turned towards her audience, placed her feet at shoulder width, planted her fisted hands on her hips, and austerely stated, "So, . . . now you know." We all burst into uproarious laughter, and Marianne's reputation as Superwoman in our household was cemented. You are Superwoman, baby.
See you in hell,
Shakes.
The kids had gotten in the habit of 'pantsing' each other. Yes, it is as it appears. It is a colloquialism in which the noun 'pants' is turned into a verb. The action entails coming up behind someone, quickly grabbing their pants at both sides and instantly tugging them down while yelling "Pantsed!" While there are occasions that it might be inappropriate, I have to admit, there have been as many occasions when I couldn't help but laugh. Especially funny is when one of the boys, often in loose-fitting pajama pants, is bouncing up and down in front of some video game, completely distracted, and facing squarely towards the television. One of the other kids gives them a dose of pantsing and usually everyone laughs, including the victim.
Eventually, however, Marianne had had enough. Nevertheless, Marianne recognizes good hilarity as much as the next person, and it was all she could do to contain her own laughter when she laid down a rule that even she knew would be impracticable to enforce. "That's it! The next person who pantses someone will have to spend the entire next day naked, even if we go out shopping or you have to go to school!" She didn't realize until later how little the threat was to someone like Milo or Aiden who would just as happily forego the encumbrance of clothing in any situation. In fact, I don't think I would care much either, and the challenge was just too much to resist.
Later that day, Marianne was in the kitchen with myself and a few of the kids. She climbed up on to a blue stool that we keep handy in the kitchen to reach the higher shelves (since all of us are quite short, except for Rory of late). At the same moment I was leaning down to load some dishes into the dishwasher. When I lifted my head I found myself at eye level with her crotch. Never one to miss a golden opportunity, I grabbed her pajama pants and gave with a yank. What I found myself staring at only inches from my face was startling. Much to everyone's surprise, Marianne was wearing some kind of thong underwear with bright blue stripes, and the red Superwoman logo front and centre. The cut of the undies made them look like a cross between a Wonder Woman outfit and a Superman costume. I did a double-take and so did the kids. "What the . . .?"
Marianne, also never one to miss a golden opportunity, must have seen our expressions of dumbfounded surprise and, standing just above us aloft her stool mount, turned towards her audience, placed her feet at shoulder width, planted her fisted hands on her hips, and austerely stated, "So, . . . now you know." We all burst into uproarious laughter, and Marianne's reputation as Superwoman in our household was cemented. You are Superwoman, baby.
See you in hell,
Shakes.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Alex Obi Wan Kenobi Coll = the BEST man!
So Alex, in his hyper-organized computer-systems egocentric mind, has graciously seen fit to send me the entire edited text of his Best Man's speech. For the record, Alex, Tatooine is NOT pronounced "Tatoony", but good try. Almost every other sentiment in this speech has me teary-eyed. Enjoy.
Vader, Vader, Vader, buddy ol’ pal. I’m glad you could invite me here today on your special day, and that we can still be friends and put this whole intergalactic war thing behind us. And I think I speak for everyone when I say that I’m happy to see you back with Amidala, you should have known that the whole thing with Emperor Palpatine just wasn’t going to work out. In the end he just didn’t respect you, not to mention the whole age difference.
Ok I’m done with the Star Wars jokes. Unlike Uncle Palpie I could never really get into role playing...
For those from the bridal party who might just be meeting Dave, let me give you some background.
Of the many things Dave has been called over the years, I’m pretty sure that a cool cat is counted among them. But if I was going to choose his most feline characteristic, it would probably be the many lives he has been granted to throw away. The first of those nine cards was played on July 15, 1970, when a compassionate woman and strict catholic dogma did him a favour, a debt which he has since repaid four times over.
I am not a religious man, but I do believe in guardian angels. While I can’t picture a system where everyone has one, Dave on the other hand has a whole team, and I’m sure the loved ones summoned upstairs to plead on his behalf are looking down on us tonight. You see, when he was only 15 Dave was tragically struck by a car in a hit and run late at night. He was rushed to the hospital, where to every one's joy and surprise he came to. The doctor sat down to tell the adolescent David some news. The good news was that none of the inflicted bone fractures was too serious and they should all heal cleanly. The bad news, was that given tell tale signs from
the x-ray, as far as growing taller was concerned, he was finished.
I can only imagine how this knowledge would impact a typically self-obsessed 15-year-old. But as a testament to the pointlessness of modern genetic screening, learning his fate did little to prevent a burgeoning napoleon complex. For the non-history buffs, Napoleon was born in Corsica, which is an island in the St Lawrence.
Of course, Dave was gifted with plenty of ways to compensate for being vertically challenged. He still had his good looks that were so popular with the ladies, and even the silky smooth voice to match. Unfortunately that voice was connected to a mouth which was not altogether unaccustomed to having a foot wedged firmly in. Strangely, this is one of the qualities we love most about Dave. In a world dominated by a saccharine, paranoid, politically correct media, David is not shy about speaking his mind. Not that he’s rude, or going to judge you for your opinion, but he ain’t apologizing for his. BS has its purposes but conversation ain’t one of them. This is an attitude which I like very much.
But where were we? Like any alpha male who also knows a good party when he sees one Dave was drawn to the decks, and started a career Dj’ing in the pubs and clubs of Ottawa-Hull that even landed him a spot on the radio. But he did not limit himself solely to the role of an entertainer. Being a renaissance man, minus the sporting bit, he simultaneously pursued the finer arts, becoming versed in the likes of Descartes and Shakespeare, eventually earning a degree in Economics from Carleton University. As if that wasn’t enough, and for God knows why, he added another degree in English to his accolades.
So, a successful radio career, a new family, and two degrees. Where do you go from there? Time to buy a house, settle down and trip the light fantastic? Not if you’re David Christopher. Hell no! It’s time to get that family down to the hot sands of Daytona beach and check out the party!
In Daytona it took Dave no time flat to establish himself on the scene and party in the booth with the likes of Snoop Dogg and the Chili Peppers. Even an NBA star came to the booth one night to make a request. Making conversation he asked “Hey, what’s a fella gotta do to get some action in this place?”
“You’re Shaquille O’neal, right?” replied Dave.
“That’s right”, says Shaq. To which Dave came back with, “Yeah, you’re not gettin’ laid tonight.” Tell it like it is pal!
Dave arrived ahead of the kids to prepare the cottage in Daytona. He was impressed with the comfy little bungalow, and like any good Canadian he was immediately drawn to the fireplace. This being the middle of summer, there was only one logical thing to do: fire that puppy up!
A nice toasty going, Dave stepped out to survey the view from the garden. The neighbour was out that day, watering his lawn.
“Howdy there!” the neighbour exclaimed, “where y’all from?”
“Canada actually!” Dave replied. “We’re from Ottawa. The rest of the fam is coming down next week!”
“Well, that’s a relief” says the neighbour.
“Why?” asked Dave, puzzled.
“'Cause your house is on fire!”
A glance confirmed that indeed the roof, the roof, the roof was on fire. But he didn’t need no water. He let that muther burn! Because the landlord claimed responsibility for not cleaning the flu, and set him up with a condo on the beach! In all the species in your mutt heritage, I’d have to say the luck of the Irish shone through on that occasion.
All good things come to an end, and Dave decided to come home. Of course, no one in their right mind would go back to Ottawa voluntarily, so Dave and company returned to settle in our little island hamlet. And hamlet, as in the play by Shakespeare, is exactly where I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. The casting was perhaps the only thing done right in this production, with a brooding 25-year-old Alex Coll in the eponymous role, and the over-the-hill DJ David Christopher as Hamlet’s traitorous ami Rosencrantz. I can still recall the first reading, where introductions were made. I took a look at Dave, with his pencil thin chinstrap and frosted tips, and could at once smell something rotten in the state of Denmark. For his part, Dave looked back at an angry, stand-offish ego-case, and he didn’t like me one bit. But it didn’t take long for him to see through the act, and approach me after rehearsal. “These drama geeks may be intimidated by you”, he said, “but not me buddy. You’re not the first punk I’ve chewed through in my time and you ain’t gonna be the last.” I could tell then this was going to be someone I wouldn’t soon forget. As two heart-broken, wise-cracking sods we were bound to become friends eventually. But in the end it was not our mutual appreciation of the Bard which brought us together. No, it was of course a heinous act of juvenile shenanigans.
I had invited Dave and some of the cast over to my flat for a few drinks. The apartment was just another one of those 70’s jobs on Bay St, but it had an interesting feature. The entrance way camera was hooked up to CCTV, which you could view on a special channel on the TV. The channel’s audio was connected to the intercom, and a couple smart-asses from next door were on it, making wise-cracks at everyone coming in and out of the building. Well, I decided that if they were going to be smart, I might as well give them something to talk about. So donning a pillowcase to protect my anonymity, I made my way down to the entrance and treated the building to a show of my bare white ass. However, what I had failed to consider is that someone, such as a little old lady, may have wanted to actually use said entrance. Try to imagine someone trying to simultaneously pull up their pants and yank a pillowcase off of their head, and you could appreciate the comedy of the situation.
I returned to the apartment to find my friends rolling on the floor in tears. Dave put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes, and told me “Alex Coll, you are the man”. And that was to be the true beginning of a torrid bromance.
The production went off without a hitch. However, it is a standing tradition among actors to play some kind of prank on the closing night. There is a scene in Hamlet where he shows an impudent Rosencrantz the back of his hand. That night I decided to put my back into it, however when it came down to it I realized that I had never actually slapped someone in earnest, and became terribly self-conscious in the act. From my proximity I could see Dave break character for a second and give me a sly grin, as if to say “you little b, is that really the best you can do?” Well Dave, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve given MJ my full permission to demonstrate the proper technique after the reception tonight!
I have come dressed tonight in the most appropriate costume for a best man, Obi Wan, Anakin’s failed mentor. The truth is of course that it is actually Dave who has served as my mentor, and in that capacity he has proved anything but a failure. Nor am I the only one, as an instructor the man was a legend at Pan Pacific College International, and his disciples, spread as they are around the world, from Japan to Korea, to Mexico, would I’m sure very much like to be here today to share this proud moment. And of course no speech on David’s accomplishments would be complete without mention of his role as a dedicated father. In an age when yuppies everywhere
are raising their only child as an exercise in project management, Dave knows that you won’t find the secret of good parenting in a psychology textbook. No Montessori in the world will replace old-fashioned love and attention. Kids love Dave because he’s just a big version of them, in years if not in stature. But all that is not to call him a soft touch. Far from it, Dave has done his best to keep his children away from the dark side of the force, and give them the same chance his adoptive parents gave him. To teach them that all-important lesson: if you can’t always do the right thing, just try and keep your nose out of the wrong one!
Post Hamlet I had the opportunity to get to know Dave and spend some time with him and Rory, Blair and Milo. But as fate would have it I was called to leave Victoria to find my fortune abroad in Europe. I did not pay home a visit until 2007, when I met up with Dave only to discover that he had fallen for a charming woman, one Marianne Johnston. We spent the evening raising our brand of hell on the town, par normale. At the end of the night we relaxed in Dave’s living room, until he lay snoozing in her arms as she spoke to me in whispered tones. That he had fallen for a pretty girl was no surprise. That she could keep up with him, moreso. That she had outlasted him was perhaps unheard of. To top it off I could tell she was no fan of BS herself. She had earned my respect, and then some.
Dave isn’t always the easiest person to live with, a secret about as well hidden as the plans to the Death Star. Any woman that was going to put up with him would have to have thick skin and a firm hand. So, it was yet to been seen if it would last. A lengthy period ensued before I had the chance to return again in 2009 but when I did, it was to find that not only had Marianne lasted, they had a home together. It appeared that David’s incurable optimism was finally proffering returns. It was at this point that I had the pleasure to make acquaintance with Marianne’s lovely children Aiden, Camille, and Megan. You can imagine my terror when upon entering the door David shouted “Ok, who wants uncle Alex to read a story?!” I was at once engulfed in what can only be described as a kidalanche.
Like any true genius, Dave has had his doubters. These are the ones who have said “Dave, a great mind sure, but he’s a loose cannon!”. It is true that his explosive energy has a habit of getting carried away, and he has not always had his toes planted down on terra firma. In Marianne he has found someone who can not only take the thorns with the roses, but who has the courage and strength of character to get his attention and make him listen. Marianne, you are a rock, an anchor in the storm. And since you have come into his life we have seen nothing but positive things.
Needless to say none of the doubters are in attendance today. But I almost wish they were, so they could see what Dave can accomplish with a woman like Marianne at his side. How about an A+ grade point average in a master’s level theatre history program? How about being told by an accomplished professor that he should publish his thesis as a full length book? How about things in the works to get his blog on family life published as a novel? And the scary thing is, you two are just getting started!
So with the addition of wee Lilian the family is complete (knock knock). I have never seen such enjoyable mayhem as 654 Ralph St, a.k.a. Grand Central Station, and we are all blessed to know it is assured to continue long into the future. To finish, I’d like to say two things. Firstly, Dave, the gestation of a pig is 112 to 114 days, if you ask me one more time I’ll slap you for real, and I’ve been practicing! Second, I’d like to say that despite the occasional transgression, you are a gentleman, you will soon be a scholar by even the classic definition, and David Christopher, you are the man.
Thank you.
... and see you in hell,
Shakes.
The Reverend Yoda Loran Donnie Black
The Star Wars Wedding - Tofino 2010. It was simply amazing and there is no way to do it justice with a verbal description. Even the photos barely touch on the exuberant tenor of the day. You simply had to be there, and if you weren't, sorry about yer luck.
While I will be posting anecdotes from the 7-day trip for months to come, here is a starter. Loran has posted two pages on his Rock n' Roll Breakfast radio show website. One is a photo album, one is a blog entry and the links are as follows.
http://www.rocknrollbreakfast.com/star_wars_wedding.html
http://www.rocknrollbreakfast.com/lamas_blog.html
The photo album I posted on facebook is at the following link:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=193301&id=512277636&l=3f2bb42596
Enjoy.
See you in a galaxy far, far away,
Shakes.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Dichotomy and Gender in Greek Myth
In the summer of 2010, I took a course called Myth and Criticism. It was a third level course that came midway through my MA and was a bit of a reprieve from the standards that I had been maintaining for the previous year. The course covered functionalist, feminist, structuralist, comparatist, Freudian, and euhemeristic theory with a focus on Greek myth but with broader applications. One of the trends I noticed that was especially obvious in structuralist analyses was a polarization between dichotomous institutions in Greek culture that caused social tension or anxiety and that, according to Levi-Strauss, were mediated by elements in myth. Most obvious was the cultural regulation of the roles of and perspectives on men and women in a definitively patriarchal society. Although I was not required to write a full essay for the course, it reminded me of a course I had taken in 1994 in which I wrote an essay on Euripides' Bacchae, that addressed a similar idea, in an admittedly naive vein.
ECSTASY: FUN AND FEVER
-A Study in Euripides' The Bacchae-
David C. Long
(198480)
Carleton University
Instructor D.G. Beer
Greek and Latin Literary Genres - 18.209 A
March 23, 1994
The male, female dichotomy in Euripides' The Bacchae, is of particular interest for the way it represents a symbolic set of polar extremes. A simplification of the stereotype of the era is that men were rational and women were irrational. Although Euripides probably believed that these were only stereotypes, he used it as a vehicle to demonstrate the perils of blindly associating yourself with either extreme. That isn't to say that this polarity is the only function. Indeed, the confused sexuality plays an integral role in creating an atmosphere of paganistic wantonness; an exemplification of the dichotomy of beauty and the horrific that occur simultaneously in emotional abandon. The male, female dichotomy is also implicit to a series of paradoxical opposites he was using to demonstrate the ironic relationship between symbol and truth in human understanding.
The text is replete with examples of the gender stereotype. Pentheus comes across as purely logical. He is the young male king who has not matured enough to understand the value of tempering logic with insight. To him, everything must have a rational explanation. He can only believe that
"The truth about Dionysus
Is that he's dead, burnt to a cinder by lightning
Along with his mother because
she said Zeus lay with her" (Velacott 199).
He accuses the young Bacchic foreigner, actually a disguised Dionysus, of a shape
"not unhandsome - for the pursuit
Of women, which is the purpose
of your presence here" (Velacott 206).
He assumes that the only reason "every eastern land dances these mysteries" is because "Their moral standards fall far below ours" (Velacott 207). The women, in his opinion, have not left to worship a god, but, "on some pretence of Bacchic worship" in order to drink "bowls full of wine" (Velacott 198). Pentheus claims to Teiresias that his acceptance of Dionysus is out of a "hope to advance (his) augurer's business, to collect more fees" (Velacott 200). Pentheus will accept only the completely rational.
As soon as Pentheus must face the existence of the irrational, he becomes associated with the feminine. After the 'miracle' earthquake caused by Bacchus, Pentheus becomes confused and begins questioning the rationality of what is occurring around him. Dionysus uses this time to escape prison, which to Pentheus was an impossibility. His confusion throws him into a flurry of repetitive questioning, wondering, "what's going on now? How did you get out?" (Velacott 213). The ensuing tale of the supernatural powers of the Maenads told by the messenger further disillusions Pentheus and Dionysus takes this opportunity to impose his trance on him. Now, completely open to the suggestion of the irrational, Bacchus convinces him to dress "in female garb" (Velacott 222). Bacchus explains,
"While sane, he'll not consent to put on women's clothes,
Once free from the curb of reason, he will" (Velacott 222). At this point Pentheus has become totally submerged in irrational surroundings. He says, "a bull I see leading me" and notices "the seven gates appear double", as does the sun (Velacott 224-225). Pentheus' confusion reduces him to a simpering fairy and he croons,
"How do I look?
Tell me, is not the way I stand
Like the way Ino stands,
or like my mother Agaue?" (Velacott 225).
Dionysus agrees, "You are the very image of one of Cadmus' daughters" (Velacott 224). Simultaneous with Pentheus' descent into the irrational is his complete transformation into the feminine.
Pentheus and Dionysus play the male and female dichotomy together in a reversal of the hunter and hunted relationship. The emotional abandon represented by Dionysus is nothing more than a "vile cult" to Pentheus (Blaiklock 228). "His enthusiasm had dwelt with pleasure on a disciplined state, and here was a movement likely to destroy its harmony" (Blaiklock 216). His "home had been thus invaded, and he was bitter" (Blaiklock 213). He becomes the hunter of Bacchus, as is evident in the guards' words,
"Pentheus, we've brought the prey you sent us out to catch;
We hunted him" (Velacott 205).
Dionysus pretends to be the helpless victim of Pentheus' suppression. Upon his entrance, "He has long flowing hair and a youthful almost feminine beauty" (Velacott 191). His hair is described as "Flowing in scented ringlets" and his face is "flushed with wine" (Velacott 199). Pentheus is well deceived about his ability to "track down // That effeminate foreigner" (Velacott 203). In this part of the play, he appears as the strong, dominant, male figure, attempting to crush any deviant irrationality.
Dionysus is quick to reverse these roles. Early in the story, the chorus establishes his ultimate role by hinting that Dionysus "hunts for blood" (Velacott 196). Sure enough, once Dionysus has raped Pentheus of his logic and his masculinity, he tells the women, "this man is walking into the net" (Velacott 222). Bacchus, toying with his prey, tells Pentheus he might catch a glimpse of the Maenads, "if you are not first caught yourself" (Velacott 226). To complete the reversal, Dionysus releases the crazed Maenads on their 'maiden' sacrifice, Pentheus. More than even a simple 'lynch-mob', they are described like rabid hunting dogs.
The irrationality of women is established immediately in Bacchus' opening speech. He says, about the Maenads, that "Their wits are gone", and that
"...the whole female population of Thebes,
To the last woman, I have sent raving
from their home" (Velacott 192).
Pentheus begins imprisoning what he refers to as "all these crazy females" (Velacott 200). He also chastises Cadmus, dressed in effeminate Bacchic garb, for engaging in "crazy folly" and that he will "punish this man who has been your instructor in lunacy" (Velacott 203). Euripides is blatantly exploiting the stereotype of women as irrational.
The irrationality of women was further emphasized by the public belief that Euripides was a misogynist. Aristophanes often ridiculed Euripides for this reputation in his comedies. Euripides held women up to such close examination in his plays, a humiliation to the "modest" women in his era, and invariably portrayed them as evil. With such comments as,
"...as for women,...
wherever the sparkle of sweet wine adorns their feasts,
No good will follow" (Velacott 200)
and,
"...This is beyond
All bearing, if we must let
women so defy us" (Velacott 219),
it seems in his opinion that the honour and behaviour of women is to be esteemed lesser than that of men, and certainly as irrational.
The irrationality stereotype of the woman is perhaps best exemplified by the chorus. In their emotional rapture, they oscillate between the serenely beautiful and the bloodily horrific. In dreamlike verse, they chant such passages as,
"O for long nights of worship, gay
With the pale gleam of dancing feet,
With head tossed high to the dewy air -
Pleasure mysterious and sweet!
O for the joy of a fawn at play
In the fragrant meadow's green delight" (Velacott).
Their very next words are bloodthirsty and strike a startlingly fickle contrast.
"...sever the throat
Of the godless, lawless, shameless son of Echion,...
[Then with growing excitement, shouting in unison, and
dancing to the rhythm of their words]...
...let the stampeding
Herd of Maenads
Throw him and throttle him,
Catch, trip, trample him to death!" (Velacott 229).
Irrationality is a 'double-edged sword'. Aside from the combined natural beauty and frenzied horror of the chorus, the Maenads also exemplify the dangers of totally succumbing to ecstasy. They are initially described by the herdsman as behaving
"...modestly, not - as you told us - drunk with wine
Or flute music , seeking the solitary woods
For the pursuit of love" (Velacott 215).
They appear as virginal forest nymphs revelling in the thrill of vitalism. But, as the Bacchic intoxicant becomes overwhelming, Bacchus' wish to
"...join that army
Of women possessed and lead them to battle"
comes to pass (Velacott 193). At the peak of their Bacchic hysteria, they reach a tumultuous climax of unparalleled evil.
"Agaue was foaming at the mouth; her rolling eyes
Were wild; she was not in her right mind, but possessed
By Bacchus, and she paid no heed to (Pentheus). She grasped
His left arm between wrist and elbow, set her foot
Against his ribs, and tore his arm off by the shoulder.
...On the other side
Ino was at him, tearing his flesh; and now
Autonoe joined them, and the whole maniacal horde.
A single and continuous yell arose - Pentheus
Shrieking as long as life was left in him, the women
Howling in triumph. One of them carried off an arm,
Another a foot, the boot still laced on it. The ribs
Were stripped, clawed clean; and women's hands, thick
red with blood,
Were tossing, catching, like a plaything,
Pentheus' flesh" (Velacott 232).
There is a dual nature to ecstasy, one of freedom and pleasure, the other of verifiable evil in the extreme absence of logic.
Dionysus embodies the ambiguous dichotomy of ecstasy. He is both feminine and masculine and, by extension, evil and divine. He delineates himself as "Most terrible, although most gentle" (Velacott 222). The guard concurs, telling Pentheus that, "the beast was gentle" when he was hunted (Velacott 205). Ironically, Dionysus' evil, normally associated with women by Euripides, reaches full bloom when Dionysus is no longer the feminine hunted, but the masculine hunter. He relieves Pentheus of his trance at the moment of his death for no other reason than to watch him suffer the pains of his demise all the more lucidly. Dionysus establishes his divinity by purporting, "I am a god, and you insulted me", but is summed up more accurately by Cadmus' lamentation, "your revenge is merciless" (Velacott 243).
The state of drunkenness, which Dionysus is the god of, is a perfect example of his duality (Segal 156). Teiresias reminds us that
"When mortals drink their fill
Of wine, the sufferings of our unhappy race
Are banished, each day's troubles
are forgotten in sleep" (Velacott 200).
In the short run, this euphoria is all well and good, and quite therapeutic, but at what cost? The women became "riotous bands", caught in the "maddening trance of Dionysus" (Velacott 195). Excessive imbibement is well known to cause a dangerous lack of inhibition.
The male, female dichotomy, when associated with the ecstatic ritual, creates an almost paganistic atmosphere of wanton sexuality. Revelling in nature,
"...the Maenads catch
Wild snakes, nurse them and twine them
round their hair" (Velacott 195).
In all nature, however, occurs a "brute wildness" (Velacott 195). Pentheus believed that the
"...women go creeping off
This way and that to lonely places and give themselves
To lecherous men" (Velacott 198).
These words might be 'taken with a grain of salt' considering his insanely rational logic but are somewhat reified by Teiresias when he says,
"Dionysus will not compel
Women to be chaste" (Velacott 201).
The combination of the confused gender role of Dionysus, the paganistic wildness and the sexual promiscuity paint a vivid picture of 'heart-pounding' ecstasy.
Pure rationality is no less dangerous. Using Pentheus as the paradigm for pure rationality, Euripides establishes it as negative as well. Teiresias, the voice of truth and vision, insists that Pentheus' rejection of Bacchus is because "a most cruel insanity has warped his mind" (Velacott 202), and later blatantly tells him, "now you are insane" (Velacott 203). Dionysus himself tells Pentheus, "I am sane and you are mad" (Velacott 208) and,
"You know not what you are saying, what you do, nor who
You are" (Velacott 208).
Pentheus' sin was a strict devotion to the purely logical and as a result, Bacchus destroys him. He does not have the faculties to deal with his emotional alter ego, and is thus decimated when he comes in contact with it. Anagnorisis is achieved only once the characters have been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. The revelation is that denying one emotional extreme, rational or irrational, can only result in tragedy.
Pentheus' realization occurs at the time of his death in a last moment of lucidity. Returning from his trance, he cries,
"Mother have mercy, I have sinned,
But I am still your own son.
Do not kill me!" (Velacott 232).
The sin is that which Dionysus mentions in his introduction.
"He is a fighter against gods, defies me, excludes from
Libations, never names me in prayers" (Velacott 193).
This sin is tantamount to the sin of chaste Hippolytus against Aphrodite in Euripides' Hippolytus, if we consider that emotion is personified in Dionysus. More specifically, Pentheus is denying his emotionally irrational side and in so doing, realizes his own destruction.
Agaue, too, only achieves anagnorisis after having been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. Returning from the Bacchic ritual in which she believed herself to be "hunting wild beasts with (her) bare hands", she is "still rapt in her unhappy frenzy" (Velacott 236). The 'double-edged sword' of her revelry is coming to light and it is noteworthy that the Bacchic frenzy is described for the first time as "unhappy". In a particularly poignant and concise anagnorisis, Cadmus forces her back to the world of the rational by instructing her to examine her hunting trophy. "Look at it steadily; come closer to the truth" (Velacott 238). She realizes, "I hold Pentheus' head in my accursed hand. Dionysus has destroyed us. Now I understand" (Velacott 238). Her return to the rational world coincides with her understanding that she has not been hunting but mesmerized in an emotional and violent delirium.
Teiresias embodies a link between polar extremes and avoids tragedy. He is the combined male and female, old and young, and logical and emotional. Teiresias, appearing with Cadmus and also dressed effeminately in Bacchic garb, is first referred to as "the wise voice of a wise man" (Velacott 197). The distinction here is that he is said to be wise, not strictly rational. His wisdom emerges from his ability to experience the revelry of emotion. Teiresias quickly agrees, for example, with Cadmus' assertion,
"...What joy it is
To forget one's age!" (Velacott 197).
Teiresias is able to see that "no one is exempt" from the necessity of Bacchus (Velacott 198). He continues to say that
"...the god draws no distinction between young
And old" (Velacott 198).
Maintaining the female half of the dichotomy, his words are echoed by the herdsman. He describes the Maenads as "women both old and young" (Velacott 215). Cadmus is destroyed as a part of Pentheus' tragedy (Segal 156), but Teiresias points out that their attempt to breach the parameters of age and masculinity has given him the wisdom to "see things clearly" and that "all others are perverse" (Velacott 197). These words foreshadow his survival and the doom of all who do not achieve this dually emotional and logical anagnorisis.
Euripides employed the male, female dichotomy as an implicit element to a series of dichotomies he was using to philosophize on the nature of truth, symbol and understanding. He was concerned with such intellectual developments of his era as sophistry, tragedy, and religious revolt. The Dionysiatic ritual, whereby the hunter becomes the hunted, actually became the model for all subsequent tragedy (Conacher 56-58). Even such non-structured details as the sinister in sexuality are evident in works as late as Shakespeare's Hamlet. This tragedic model was ironic to Euripides "because by creating illusion tragedy seeks to convey truth; by causing us to lose ourselves it gives us a deeper sense of ourselves; and by representing events filled with the most intense pain it gives us pleasure" (Segal 156). "The mind runs back over the strange pain and beauty of the play, and there comes the sudden realization that the whole day has been a carnival of madness" (Blaiklock 228). Much in the same way wisdom occurs when logic is balanced with emotion in the play, we see self-awareness for the audience emerging from the emotional engagement in theatre.
"Dionysus is the god of wine, and religious ecstasy; he is also the god of the drama and the mask. His worship breaks down the barriers not only between god and beast and between man and wild nature, but also between reality and illusion" (Segal 156). The chorus supplies a concise summation to the audience in the concluding lines of the play.
"The things we thought would happen do not happen;
The unexpected god makes possible:
And that is what has happened here today" (Velacott 244).
More broadly, nobody young or old, male or female, is exempt from the need to temper the rational with the irrational, to combine logic with emotion, to see what reality lies behind appearances, and to learn truth from fiction.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Blaiklock, E.M. The Male Characters of Euripides. Wellington:
New Zealand University Press, 1952.
Conacher, D.J. Euripidean Drama. London: Oxford University
Press, 1967.
Segal, Charles. "The Bacchae as Metatragedy", in Burian, Peter,
ed. Directions in Euripidean Criticism. Durham: Duke
University Press, 1985.
Velacott, Philip, tr. Euripides The Bacchae and Other Plays.
Toronto: Penguin Books Canada Ltd., 1973.
ECSTASY: FUN AND FEVER
-A Study in Euripides' The Bacchae-
David C. Long
(198480)
Carleton University
Instructor D.G. Beer
Greek and Latin Literary Genres - 18.209 A
March 23, 1994
The male, female dichotomy in Euripides' The Bacchae, is of particular interest for the way it represents a symbolic set of polar extremes. A simplification of the stereotype of the era is that men were rational and women were irrational. Although Euripides probably believed that these were only stereotypes, he used it as a vehicle to demonstrate the perils of blindly associating yourself with either extreme. That isn't to say that this polarity is the only function. Indeed, the confused sexuality plays an integral role in creating an atmosphere of paganistic wantonness; an exemplification of the dichotomy of beauty and the horrific that occur simultaneously in emotional abandon. The male, female dichotomy is also implicit to a series of paradoxical opposites he was using to demonstrate the ironic relationship between symbol and truth in human understanding.
The text is replete with examples of the gender stereotype. Pentheus comes across as purely logical. He is the young male king who has not matured enough to understand the value of tempering logic with insight. To him, everything must have a rational explanation. He can only believe that
"The truth about Dionysus
Is that he's dead, burnt to a cinder by lightning
Along with his mother because
she said Zeus lay with her" (Velacott 199).
He accuses the young Bacchic foreigner, actually a disguised Dionysus, of a shape
"not unhandsome - for the pursuit
Of women, which is the purpose
of your presence here" (Velacott 206).
He assumes that the only reason "every eastern land dances these mysteries" is because "Their moral standards fall far below ours" (Velacott 207). The women, in his opinion, have not left to worship a god, but, "on some pretence of Bacchic worship" in order to drink "bowls full of wine" (Velacott 198). Pentheus claims to Teiresias that his acceptance of Dionysus is out of a "hope to advance (his) augurer's business, to collect more fees" (Velacott 200). Pentheus will accept only the completely rational.
As soon as Pentheus must face the existence of the irrational, he becomes associated with the feminine. After the 'miracle' earthquake caused by Bacchus, Pentheus becomes confused and begins questioning the rationality of what is occurring around him. Dionysus uses this time to escape prison, which to Pentheus was an impossibility. His confusion throws him into a flurry of repetitive questioning, wondering, "what's going on now? How did you get out?" (Velacott 213). The ensuing tale of the supernatural powers of the Maenads told by the messenger further disillusions Pentheus and Dionysus takes this opportunity to impose his trance on him. Now, completely open to the suggestion of the irrational, Bacchus convinces him to dress "in female garb" (Velacott 222). Bacchus explains,
"While sane, he'll not consent to put on women's clothes,
Once free from the curb of reason, he will" (Velacott 222). At this point Pentheus has become totally submerged in irrational surroundings. He says, "a bull I see leading me" and notices "the seven gates appear double", as does the sun (Velacott 224-225). Pentheus' confusion reduces him to a simpering fairy and he croons,
"How do I look?
Tell me, is not the way I stand
Like the way Ino stands,
or like my mother Agaue?" (Velacott 225).
Dionysus agrees, "You are the very image of one of Cadmus' daughters" (Velacott 224). Simultaneous with Pentheus' descent into the irrational is his complete transformation into the feminine.
Pentheus and Dionysus play the male and female dichotomy together in a reversal of the hunter and hunted relationship. The emotional abandon represented by Dionysus is nothing more than a "vile cult" to Pentheus (Blaiklock 228). "His enthusiasm had dwelt with pleasure on a disciplined state, and here was a movement likely to destroy its harmony" (Blaiklock 216). His "home had been thus invaded, and he was bitter" (Blaiklock 213). He becomes the hunter of Bacchus, as is evident in the guards' words,
"Pentheus, we've brought the prey you sent us out to catch;
We hunted him" (Velacott 205).
Dionysus pretends to be the helpless victim of Pentheus' suppression. Upon his entrance, "He has long flowing hair and a youthful almost feminine beauty" (Velacott 191). His hair is described as "Flowing in scented ringlets" and his face is "flushed with wine" (Velacott 199). Pentheus is well deceived about his ability to "track down // That effeminate foreigner" (Velacott 203). In this part of the play, he appears as the strong, dominant, male figure, attempting to crush any deviant irrationality.
Dionysus is quick to reverse these roles. Early in the story, the chorus establishes his ultimate role by hinting that Dionysus "hunts for blood" (Velacott 196). Sure enough, once Dionysus has raped Pentheus of his logic and his masculinity, he tells the women, "this man is walking into the net" (Velacott 222). Bacchus, toying with his prey, tells Pentheus he might catch a glimpse of the Maenads, "if you are not first caught yourself" (Velacott 226). To complete the reversal, Dionysus releases the crazed Maenads on their 'maiden' sacrifice, Pentheus. More than even a simple 'lynch-mob', they are described like rabid hunting dogs.
The irrationality of women is established immediately in Bacchus' opening speech. He says, about the Maenads, that "Their wits are gone", and that
"...the whole female population of Thebes,
To the last woman, I have sent raving
from their home" (Velacott 192).
Pentheus begins imprisoning what he refers to as "all these crazy females" (Velacott 200). He also chastises Cadmus, dressed in effeminate Bacchic garb, for engaging in "crazy folly" and that he will "punish this man who has been your instructor in lunacy" (Velacott 203). Euripides is blatantly exploiting the stereotype of women as irrational.
The irrationality of women was further emphasized by the public belief that Euripides was a misogynist. Aristophanes often ridiculed Euripides for this reputation in his comedies. Euripides held women up to such close examination in his plays, a humiliation to the "modest" women in his era, and invariably portrayed them as evil. With such comments as,
"...as for women,...
wherever the sparkle of sweet wine adorns their feasts,
No good will follow" (Velacott 200)
and,
"...This is beyond
All bearing, if we must let
women so defy us" (Velacott 219),
it seems in his opinion that the honour and behaviour of women is to be esteemed lesser than that of men, and certainly as irrational.
The irrationality stereotype of the woman is perhaps best exemplified by the chorus. In their emotional rapture, they oscillate between the serenely beautiful and the bloodily horrific. In dreamlike verse, they chant such passages as,
"O for long nights of worship, gay
With the pale gleam of dancing feet,
With head tossed high to the dewy air -
Pleasure mysterious and sweet!
O for the joy of a fawn at play
In the fragrant meadow's green delight" (Velacott).
Their very next words are bloodthirsty and strike a startlingly fickle contrast.
"...sever the throat
Of the godless, lawless, shameless son of Echion,...
[Then with growing excitement, shouting in unison, and
dancing to the rhythm of their words]...
...let the stampeding
Herd of Maenads
Throw him and throttle him,
Catch, trip, trample him to death!" (Velacott 229).
Irrationality is a 'double-edged sword'. Aside from the combined natural beauty and frenzied horror of the chorus, the Maenads also exemplify the dangers of totally succumbing to ecstasy. They are initially described by the herdsman as behaving
"...modestly, not - as you told us - drunk with wine
Or flute music , seeking the solitary woods
For the pursuit of love" (Velacott 215).
They appear as virginal forest nymphs revelling in the thrill of vitalism. But, as the Bacchic intoxicant becomes overwhelming, Bacchus' wish to
"...join that army
Of women possessed and lead them to battle"
comes to pass (Velacott 193). At the peak of their Bacchic hysteria, they reach a tumultuous climax of unparalleled evil.
"Agaue was foaming at the mouth; her rolling eyes
Were wild; she was not in her right mind, but possessed
By Bacchus, and she paid no heed to (Pentheus). She grasped
His left arm between wrist and elbow, set her foot
Against his ribs, and tore his arm off by the shoulder.
...On the other side
Ino was at him, tearing his flesh; and now
Autonoe joined them, and the whole maniacal horde.
A single and continuous yell arose - Pentheus
Shrieking as long as life was left in him, the women
Howling in triumph. One of them carried off an arm,
Another a foot, the boot still laced on it. The ribs
Were stripped, clawed clean; and women's hands, thick
red with blood,
Were tossing, catching, like a plaything,
Pentheus' flesh" (Velacott 232).
There is a dual nature to ecstasy, one of freedom and pleasure, the other of verifiable evil in the extreme absence of logic.
Dionysus embodies the ambiguous dichotomy of ecstasy. He is both feminine and masculine and, by extension, evil and divine. He delineates himself as "Most terrible, although most gentle" (Velacott 222). The guard concurs, telling Pentheus that, "the beast was gentle" when he was hunted (Velacott 205). Ironically, Dionysus' evil, normally associated with women by Euripides, reaches full bloom when Dionysus is no longer the feminine hunted, but the masculine hunter. He relieves Pentheus of his trance at the moment of his death for no other reason than to watch him suffer the pains of his demise all the more lucidly. Dionysus establishes his divinity by purporting, "I am a god, and you insulted me", but is summed up more accurately by Cadmus' lamentation, "your revenge is merciless" (Velacott 243).
The state of drunkenness, which Dionysus is the god of, is a perfect example of his duality (Segal 156). Teiresias reminds us that
"When mortals drink their fill
Of wine, the sufferings of our unhappy race
Are banished, each day's troubles
are forgotten in sleep" (Velacott 200).
In the short run, this euphoria is all well and good, and quite therapeutic, but at what cost? The women became "riotous bands", caught in the "maddening trance of Dionysus" (Velacott 195). Excessive imbibement is well known to cause a dangerous lack of inhibition.
The male, female dichotomy, when associated with the ecstatic ritual, creates an almost paganistic atmosphere of wanton sexuality. Revelling in nature,
"...the Maenads catch
Wild snakes, nurse them and twine them
round their hair" (Velacott 195).
In all nature, however, occurs a "brute wildness" (Velacott 195). Pentheus believed that the
"...women go creeping off
This way and that to lonely places and give themselves
To lecherous men" (Velacott 198).
These words might be 'taken with a grain of salt' considering his insanely rational logic but are somewhat reified by Teiresias when he says,
"Dionysus will not compel
Women to be chaste" (Velacott 201).
The combination of the confused gender role of Dionysus, the paganistic wildness and the sexual promiscuity paint a vivid picture of 'heart-pounding' ecstasy.
Pure rationality is no less dangerous. Using Pentheus as the paradigm for pure rationality, Euripides establishes it as negative as well. Teiresias, the voice of truth and vision, insists that Pentheus' rejection of Bacchus is because "a most cruel insanity has warped his mind" (Velacott 202), and later blatantly tells him, "now you are insane" (Velacott 203). Dionysus himself tells Pentheus, "I am sane and you are mad" (Velacott 208) and,
"You know not what you are saying, what you do, nor who
You are" (Velacott 208).
Pentheus' sin was a strict devotion to the purely logical and as a result, Bacchus destroys him. He does not have the faculties to deal with his emotional alter ego, and is thus decimated when he comes in contact with it. Anagnorisis is achieved only once the characters have been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. The revelation is that denying one emotional extreme, rational or irrational, can only result in tragedy.
Pentheus' realization occurs at the time of his death in a last moment of lucidity. Returning from his trance, he cries,
"Mother have mercy, I have sinned,
But I am still your own son.
Do not kill me!" (Velacott 232).
The sin is that which Dionysus mentions in his introduction.
"He is a fighter against gods, defies me, excludes from
Libations, never names me in prayers" (Velacott 193).
This sin is tantamount to the sin of chaste Hippolytus against Aphrodite in Euripides' Hippolytus, if we consider that emotion is personified in Dionysus. More specifically, Pentheus is denying his emotionally irrational side and in so doing, realizes his own destruction.
Agaue, too, only achieves anagnorisis after having been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. Returning from the Bacchic ritual in which she believed herself to be "hunting wild beasts with (her) bare hands", she is "still rapt in her unhappy frenzy" (Velacott 236). The 'double-edged sword' of her revelry is coming to light and it is noteworthy that the Bacchic frenzy is described for the first time as "unhappy". In a particularly poignant and concise anagnorisis, Cadmus forces her back to the world of the rational by instructing her to examine her hunting trophy. "Look at it steadily; come closer to the truth" (Velacott 238). She realizes, "I hold Pentheus' head in my accursed hand. Dionysus has destroyed us. Now I understand" (Velacott 238). Her return to the rational world coincides with her understanding that she has not been hunting but mesmerized in an emotional and violent delirium.
Teiresias embodies a link between polar extremes and avoids tragedy. He is the combined male and female, old and young, and logical and emotional. Teiresias, appearing with Cadmus and also dressed effeminately in Bacchic garb, is first referred to as "the wise voice of a wise man" (Velacott 197). The distinction here is that he is said to be wise, not strictly rational. His wisdom emerges from his ability to experience the revelry of emotion. Teiresias quickly agrees, for example, with Cadmus' assertion,
"...What joy it is
To forget one's age!" (Velacott 197).
Teiresias is able to see that "no one is exempt" from the necessity of Bacchus (Velacott 198). He continues to say that
"...the god draws no distinction between young
And old" (Velacott 198).
Maintaining the female half of the dichotomy, his words are echoed by the herdsman. He describes the Maenads as "women both old and young" (Velacott 215). Cadmus is destroyed as a part of Pentheus' tragedy (Segal 156), but Teiresias points out that their attempt to breach the parameters of age and masculinity has given him the wisdom to "see things clearly" and that "all others are perverse" (Velacott 197). These words foreshadow his survival and the doom of all who do not achieve this dually emotional and logical anagnorisis.
Euripides employed the male, female dichotomy as an implicit element to a series of dichotomies he was using to philosophize on the nature of truth, symbol and understanding. He was concerned with such intellectual developments of his era as sophistry, tragedy, and religious revolt. The Dionysiatic ritual, whereby the hunter becomes the hunted, actually became the model for all subsequent tragedy (Conacher 56-58). Even such non-structured details as the sinister in sexuality are evident in works as late as Shakespeare's Hamlet. This tragedic model was ironic to Euripides "because by creating illusion tragedy seeks to convey truth; by causing us to lose ourselves it gives us a deeper sense of ourselves; and by representing events filled with the most intense pain it gives us pleasure" (Segal 156). "The mind runs back over the strange pain and beauty of the play, and there comes the sudden realization that the whole day has been a carnival of madness" (Blaiklock 228). Much in the same way wisdom occurs when logic is balanced with emotion in the play, we see self-awareness for the audience emerging from the emotional engagement in theatre.
"Dionysus is the god of wine, and religious ecstasy; he is also the god of the drama and the mask. His worship breaks down the barriers not only between god and beast and between man and wild nature, but also between reality and illusion" (Segal 156). The chorus supplies a concise summation to the audience in the concluding lines of the play.
"The things we thought would happen do not happen;
The unexpected god makes possible:
And that is what has happened here today" (Velacott 244).
More broadly, nobody young or old, male or female, is exempt from the need to temper the rational with the irrational, to combine logic with emotion, to see what reality lies behind appearances, and to learn truth from fiction.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Blaiklock, E.M. The Male Characters of Euripides. Wellington:
New Zealand University Press, 1952.
Conacher, D.J. Euripidean Drama. London: Oxford University
Press, 1967.
Segal, Charles. "The Bacchae as Metatragedy", in Burian, Peter,
ed. Directions in Euripidean Criticism. Durham: Duke
University Press, 1985.
Velacott, Philip, tr. Euripides The Bacchae and Other Plays.
Toronto: Penguin Books Canada Ltd., 1973.
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