I read this as a pdf from the Internet archive. Actually had to pull another version from Yale for the ending which was missing from the IA version. Two very different translations too. One very Shakespearian and the other rather straight and laking theatrical flair. I prefer the Shakespeare-y version.

I see direct parallels with the story of Jesus in Dionysus' birth and later in shedding his Godness, and manifesting as a human to walk among men. The way Dionysus speaks of his own Godliness when questioned about it is also Christlike.

Several centuries separates Euripides and Jesus. I wonder if Jesus and his contemporaries possibly learn of this play? Did his disciples? Did the gospels use The Bacchae? Dionysus did turn water into wine... I'm thinkin' yeah. Definitely. I'm gonna look into this a bit more.

Well, of course this play is a very important work. One that is probably a keystone to understanding the story of Jesus and yes of course also to future of the theatre.

"The truth is one. The sages speak of it by many names." Bhagvad Gita.

Very enjoyable. The whole story is seen as a tragedy, but I, personally, had a lot of fun.

I wonder why Nietzsche, who drank only water and milk in his lifetime, was influenced by a god of wine. On the contrary, Dyonisus is not a god who Socrates could respect, because his actions challenge Socrates' beliefs. And Socrates had no problem with alcohol. Who said that birds of a feather flock together ?

In disguise, Dionysus returns to the land of his birth, Thebes. He is angry at the women of Thebes for denying him his rights of worship and sends them all mad. The women become his Bacchantes and run into the forest to revel in Dionysus's ownership. They become drunk with wine and dance in wild displays of Dionysian rituals. He is especially angry with the family of Cadmus and seeks their destruction.
The chaste and prudish King of Thebes, Pentheus, is furious when he returns to discover that the women, including his mother, have gone into the forest. His grandfather, Cadmus, and the seer, Tiresias, also decide to join the women in the woods, wisely realizing the danger of going against the gods' wishes.
Pentheus orders the destruction of Tiresias' shrine to restore order, and he imprisons Dionysus in disguise. The women, however, have not been able to overcome. So, after Dionysus regains his freedom, God convinces Pentheus to dress as a woman and enter the forest as one of the Bacchantes to go among them in disguise, find his mother, and bring her back to the city.
After dressing as one of the female Bacchantes, Pentheus enters the forest and finds the women's dwelling place. However, Dionysus achieves his ultimate revenge by driving the women into their madness to think that Pentheus is a wild beast. At Pentheus' mother's insistence, the women fall upon him and tear him to pieces. Agave, his mother, holds Pentheus' head in her hands, imagining it as a wild beast, and Dionysus' revenge is complete.
After the horrible act, Dionysus releases the women from their madness, and Agave realizes she has destroyed her son. Dionysus reveals himself as the God and tells the former Bacchantes that he had Pentheus killed because he refused to honor and worship him and thus put himself against the gods' will.
Agave and Cadmus protest the dreadful punishment bestowed on Pentheus and Cadmus' family, who will be exiled.

For those who don’t recognize the title, this ancient Greek theater piece is about the god Dionysus, god of wine. It was first performed in Athens, in 405 BC. And for those who still don’t catch the connection to my blog, it’s this: Many of the characteristics of Jesus are shared with this frivolous Greek god, and at least one of Jesus’ miracles—turning water into wine—also seems closely related. In fact, the late Byzantine play, The Passion of Christ, drew heavily on the Bakkhai.

Greek tragedies are a little hard for us to fully enter into two and a half millennia later, particularly as we struggle to understand on just at what level the Greeks believed in their gods, but the commentary of this book does a great job of making something foreign feel familiar. In the play, you’ll see Dionysus’ more unpleasant side … his usual ecstasy and abandon turn into vengeance and bloodlust, aimed toward a young king who seeks to discredit him. True to Greek form, the god wins, with no apparent attempt at a climaxing plot; we understand from the beginning that humans are doomed to subjection before the gods. The punishment for disbelief far exceeds the crime, with no hint of pity or apology, as befits the gods’ disdain for lesser beings.

I found the forty page introduction superb, and the notes following the play a bit less so, though still helpful in illuminating the setting.

Anne Carson's translation really captures a lot of nuance in the story that I haven't picked up in other versions. Very powerful and with a lot of complexity. Her introductory poem is also really enjoyable.

4.5

Ruthless Dionysus destroys mortals who do not acknowledge him, in the worst ways possible.

I loved this. Well its not news that I love Euripides but I like to repeat it again. I really like his attitude towards Dionysus' duplicity.
I looovveeee Dionysus as well. I think he is the most interesting god ever in the Greek pantheon. I love his double identity.

Medea still holds the first place in my heart but this tragedy was also genuinely good.

Dionysos tragedya içinde kendi tragedyasını yazıp sahneliyor gibi.. Diğer okuduklarım arasında bu açıdan ilgi çekiciydi..

A warning to all those who try to stop me from partying

no thoughts just city state identity

This was all kinds of amazing. Maybe I'm so impressed because it's the first time I've ever read Euripides. (Predictably enough, I'm dazzled by tragedy).

The version I read is the translation of Bacchae by Richard Lattimore (I know goodreads says I read another edition, but I just really like this cover!)

Translation of a work, especially when the language is so far away from contemporary English-- not just linguistically, but also in terms of a difference in epoch and culture of two millennium-- can make or break a work. The language Lattimore shapes into his English translation is a carnal poetry, beating like a drum to the same rhythm of the shuddering violence and shock of the original. You can still feel the passion of this play, as vivid as ever, 2,500 years later. That's quite a feat. Then again, it's sort of hard not to be entranced by a play where a mother "maddened by the breath of god" of a vengeful Dionysus, literally tears her son apart with her bare hands and mounts his head on her thyrsus because she thought it was a lion's. But bad translations can suffocate even the most alive of stories, so I'm very thankful to Lattimore. I bet Anne Carson probably does a good translation of this too, but I couldn't find a copy of her Bakkhai floating around.

My two favorite sentences from this were:

"When you set chains on me, you manacle a god." (Dionysus in disguise, being very dramatic before he throws his eventual temper tantrum that includes the razing of a palace and incitement of a family to dismember their son).

Also:
"Poor child,/ like a white swan warding it's weak father,/ why do you clasp those white arms around my neck?" (This is said by Cadmus to his muderess daughter, once they know they're both exiled).

Like I said, amazing.

It seems that after my constant bickering about the soap-opera qualities of almost every Greek tragedy, the Bacchae would be exactly the same. Actually, I was shocked to find most (if not all) of the conventional, recycled themes in each Greek tragedy not here. It was actually one of the best plays I've ever read.

If you've ever watched True Blood and enjoyed the Maryann storyline, this play is basically the same premise. Dionysus comes to town, wreaks havoc on everything, and then dances merrily away down the road. He's easily the most fascinating character to come out of Greek literature because, I mean, what isn't cool about a guy who has a group of women out in the woods who are so entranced they take animals and/or people and eat them raw after tearing them apart limb-from-limb?

I read the Arrowsmith translation of this play and thought it was very well done. I found myself seeing that, once something's translated, it tends to lose some of its dramatic qualities, but this isn't the case with the Bacchae. Everything is presented very well, with Agave's epiphany of what she's done at the end being one of my favorite scenes in a play ever.

Overall, it was just great. (◡‿◡✿)

All'inizio della tragedia Dioniso sembra una divinità che ti alleggerisce la vita, dio dei festeggiamenti e del vino, l'umido succo che solleva i miseri d'ogni cordoglio, che sono una distrazione dalle sofferenze quotidiane.
Andando avanti vediamo però che è un dio spietato e vendicativo, che tra l'altro non si limita a punire il miscredente Penteo ma infierisce pure sulla sua famiglia, tra cui ci sono addirittura le stesse baccanti.
Lo scontro fra Penteo e Dioniso sembra più uno scontro fra due rivali politici, due tiranni, dove ognuno cerca di annientare l'altro.

Questa tragedia mi è sembrata un'opera sul potere. Penteo che rappresenta lo stato fa una pessima figura: all'inizio lo vediamo infastidito da Dioniso perché gli toglie autorità, lo priva di giurisdizione sulle donne impegnate nei riti bacchici. Attraverso questi riti le donne riescono ad appropriarsi di una certa indipendenza; sembrano sfogare la loro frustrazione per essere relegate ai margini della società compiendo azioni violente e senza freni. Quest'unica libertà si concretizza in atti di distruzione. Dioniso, il potere divino, non concede nulla di diverso perché è anche lui interessato a una cieca ubbidienza e non ammette né trasgressione né contestazione a ciò che ha stabilito.
In fondo Dioniso e Penteo sono uguali, hanno gli stessi fini e gli stessi desideri.
Non si può non rimanere delusi dal potere di Penteo che non conosce ragionevolezza e niente di meglio offre la religione, se non un potere ancora più assoluto e tirannico.

Ho avuto un po' di difficoltà con questa vecchissima traduzione di Romagnoli e spero di rileggere questa tragedia a breve in una traduzione più fresca.