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3 and a half stars!
PENTHEUS: I shall have order! Let the city know at once
Pentheus is here to give back order and sanity.
To think those reports which came to us abroad are true!
Not padded or strained. Disgustingly true in detail.
If anything reality beggars the report. It’s disgusting!
I leave the country, I’m away only a moment
Campaigning to secure our national frontiers. And what happens?
Behind me—chaos! The city in uproar. Let everyone
Know I’ve returned to re-impose order. Order!
And tell it to the women especially, those
Promiscuous bearers of this new disease.
PENTHEUS: So it is all, and must remain a secret?
DIONYSUS: To those in whom Dionysos is not born.
To others there are no secrets for
Their minds are open.
PENTHEUS: You are clever, but not clever enough.
If there were no shameful acts in this
New worship, you would hardly wait to speak.
DIONYSUS: Mysteries are only for the initiates.
And in this worship all, even you Pentheus
May enter into the Mysteries.
PENTHEUS: Very clever. Your answers are designed
To make me curious. Tell me this at least
What benefits do the initiatives derive,
The followers of this god?
DIONYSUS: Again I am forbidden to say. But they are
Well worth knowing.
PENTHEUS: I see your game, it so transparent.
You think to play on my curiosity.
n The wine-girl is almost never away from the bridegroom. The performing dancers resume their jigs. The bridegroom drinks. The bride transfers to and fro between devastating glares at the wine-girl and loving smirks at her groom. Her groom drinks more and more. Suddenly he leaps up, brushing aside the restraining arm of his bestman, he strides among the dancers, stops the musicians and gives them instructions. He begins to dance. Already, a transformation has commenced. The music quickens. He stops, flings off his mask and garments. Underneath, the Dionysian fawn-skin. The bridal group registers predictable shock at the scantiness. He begins to dance. He DANCES!n
n The scene which follows needs the following quality: extracting the emotional color and temperature of a European pop scene without degenerating into that tawdry commercial manipulation of teenage mindlessness. The lines are chanted not sung, to musical accompaniment. The Slave Leader is not a gyrating pop drip. His control emanates from the self-contained force of his person, a progressively deepening spiritual presence. His style is based on the lilt and energy of the black hot gospellers who themselves are often first to become physically possessed.
The effect on his crowd is however, the same—physically—as would be seen in a teenage pop audience. From orgasmic moans the surrogate climax is achieved.n