Es tan graciosa, no puedo creer la cantidad de chistes de pitos duros que hizo un griego hace 2400 años.

n  LYSISTRATA
Why don't you just drop dead? Here's a grave site; buy a coffin; I'll start kneading you a honeycake.n

I'd like to say that this was the usual Greek comedy, but Aristophanes is quite the overachiever when it comes to exaggerating and using bizarre innuendos. Therefore, Lysistrata has an equal amount of funny and cringeworthy moments.

n  THIRD WOMAN 
I'm going to have a baby.

LYSISTRATA
But you were not pregnant yesterday!

THIRD WOMAN.
Well, I am to-day. Oh! let me go in search of the midwife, Lysistrata, quick, quick!n

Lysistrata

Some Greek men, you’ll discover,
Being a lesser lover
Than a renderer of war,
Treat their wives much like a whore.

So one day, Lysistrata,
Equipped with all the data,
Reckoned upon a tactic
To withhold love climactic.

She aimed to end all conflict
With some cohorts she had picked,
To flaunt breasts and nothing hide,
Though, ‘til peace, men were denied.

Males came with their pricks erect,
Revealed for all to inspect,
Still their wives rejected them,
Until war they would condemn.

So the violence did decrease
And the warring tribes made peace,
A gently handled magic wand
Made sure a double entendre.

At play’s end, the sun went down
On the whole of Athens town
And nothing followed after,
But the echoes of laughter.



Illustration by Norman Lindsay

Me after reading this play and being in love with every aspect of it and how it portrays women assuming the "supposed" roles of men without even lifting a finger, beautifully :

I have to say I was expecting a completely boring play that seemed to go on and on but boy oh boy was I in for a treat! This play was funny and lewd as hell and completely timeless. It is a really quick read and you will not waste your time if you decide to read it. On my damn word.

This is my favorite play in the history of forever. It is one of the funniest plays I have ever had the pleasure to read and perform, and I feel as though I can't even give an accurate review of this because that is how much I love it. The characters are great, the plot is original, shocking, and funny, and Lysistrata is, in my opinion, one of the best female characters that has ever been written.

As you can see, there are no highlighted stars for this review. The reason for this is not because I loathed the play, but simply because I have read three different translations of Lysistrata, each unique in translation. If you read what appears to be a bad translation of the play, then that is not the fault of Aristophanes, but of the translator(s). With that being said, instead of one rating to finalize it, I am posting three ratings and reviews, one for each translation I have read; from the best to the worst. I will link the source of the play for each one.

Before I do, I'll just say really quickly what I think of the play itself: When translated correctly, it's really, really funny and engaging. I'll elaborate more on it when I talk about the first translation.

With that being said, let's get Aristophane'd (or UN-Aristophane'd for one translation)!

THE FIRST TRANSLATION:
Aristophanes: The Complete Plays
Translated by Paul Roche
Published by New American Library
Source: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B001NQGN56/...

RATING: 4.5 STARS

From what I've heard on a taped lecture from a Brown University professor who specialized in Classic Greek lit and language, this book (to what he perceived) contains the closest translation we can (or just have) gotten to Aristophanes' original play. When translating a work, you're not only translating words, but also figuring out what they could have meant back then and how they were delivered. FOR EXAMPLE: If somehow over thousands of years the English language disappeared and people found remains of an American play, they might translate the word "rain" wrong, as we also have words pronounced is similar ways, such as reign and rein. All three of these words sound the same but have different meanings.

From what I've heard, Roche translated all of Aristophanes works (including Lysistrata) in a very articulate way. Reading the play from this book myself, I think I can agree with this professor.

This is probably the best and most faithful adaptation of Lysistrata that exists right now...but what does that also mean? It also means it most likely the crudest one that exists at this point, but that's what also makes it better; for the original play written in Ancient Greek was very crude and did not shy away from sexual matters and foul language. This translation has a lot of sexual banter, some f-bombs, sexual slang, etc. It's also a really, really well written play that has, when of course translated well like this version, wonderful chemistry and at times stream-of-conscious like dialogue. I can credit this translation as well for it's use of footnotes when something obscure is referenced. Very useful, indeed!

I found this version to have the best take on Lysistrata, herself. I loved how strong-willed and confident she was instead of being more lenient and...well, I'll get to that translation in a little bit.

I've read this version three times and it never gets old. In fact, I think it gets a bit better with every viewing (there is some word play and references you don't always catch the first time). They got the names of the characters right and they never reference anything outside of that time period (you'll see what I fully mean by this , later).

Overall? This version is an exquisite example of a superb translation that is close to the original work of Aristophanes. Bravo, Paul Roche! You deserve an M&M cookie.

SECOND TRANSLATION:
Lysistrata (Hackett Classics)
Translated by Sarah Ruden
Published by Hackett Publishing Co.
Source: http://www.fishpond.com/Books/Lysistr...

FINAL RATING: 3.75 STARS

I just want to let you know people, these are simply my opinions with SOME factual basis. I know some people absolutely love this translation of the play; and to it's credit, the translator of course does have some backup. She has a PhD in Classics and has generated some very positive reviews about her works. This is simply my opinion of the translation. No hate comments needed.

I just gotta ask though...who drew the cover for this book? I don't want to sound mean, but it's just repugnant to look at. It creeps me out for some reason. I just wanted to get that out of the way...and I'm not rating the books based off that.

As I was going to say, I really don't find this translation of Lysistrata that bad at all. In many ways it's quite like Roche's translation and keeps the names of the characters similar and their motives the same. So then why the lower rating?

I think I rated this one lower because of how I noticed Sarah Ruden tried to make the dialogue much shorter than it had been. In some parts, instead of long, Shakespearean-like prose, verse, and rhythm, some of those parts have been trimmed down to a mere couple sentences. Maybe Ruden assumed that a lot of the poetry Aristophanes used in this play was pointless to the plot. If this is the case, then I wholeheartedly disagree. If it isn't, I still don't know why a lot of it is trimmed down. This would be okay for a beginner but if you're studying for a class and assigned the play, then I'm not sure this would be the right translation for you.

I'm going to be honest, I thought it was boring for what it was trying to adapt. Lysistrata is supposed to be dramatic, crass, hilarious, and in many ways, dogmatic. This translation though is...satisfactory. Yes it is still engaging, but it lacks the substance that Roche's translation had. Again, maybe Ruden thought the play should be taken on a more serious note instead of a comedic one. It depends on the perception of the translator and the reader. In my opinion, Lysistrata is comedy while hilarious and just plain weird at times, it's also preaching the fact that women in Greece are mistreated, with the play itself using irony and clever word play to preach to it's audience. In many ways you could even consider Lysistrata a feminist play (even though feminism wasn't a concept then--at least, that we know of).

Overall, this adaption is alright. I read through it pretty quickly and still have it on my bookshelf. Maybe I'll re-read it again, soon and see if I missed anything.

THIRD TRANSLATION
Lysistrata (Focus Classics Library)
Translated by Jeffrey Henderson
Published by Focus
Source: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PRHFW0Y/...

FINAL RATING: 1 STAR

Aye...

n  n

I've been foreshadowing this translation too much in this review.

This translation is really bizarre. I mean it. It's...very, very strange in a horrible way. I'd really love to sit down and have a serious talk with the translator.

I really hate to start using GIF's in a serious review, but in this scenario, I just need them here to express how I felt about this translation.

Oh boy, where do I begin?

Okay, I'll start off by saying the names are all correct. There. Done with the pro.

Now its the cons.

First off, there are references to things hundreds if not thousands of years after the year this play was written and during the years it took place (around 431-404 BCE). In the intro of this edition, the translator speaks about modernizing parts of it. Alright, that actually sounds really interesting! A version of Lysistrata taking place in the 20th or 21st century? Why not?

That's when this translation got...weird.

Calonice, one of the women who finally volunteers to join the sex strike, speaks about beforehand she would have rather burned her best pair of designer jeans. Then Lysistrata before this references women wearing high heels. Alright. It's supposed to be a modern adaptation, right? Well, I thought so...until they all reference that they're husbands are fighting in Sparta and want them back in Athens.

So...what the hell is this supposed to be? Does this take place in 20th-century America or in the 5th century BCE during the Peloponnesian war?? They didn't have Old Navy back then and high heels were not even invented until the 14th century or later in Naples. Why are these things being talked about if it takes place in the 5th century! I'm assuming it's the 5th century during the war, as in the beginning of the play they show a map of where the war was occurring in 421 BCE. I think my brain just fizzled a little bit.

There's even a part where a Spartan soldier references Freud.

n  n

WHAT IS THIS!?

As for just the translation if you ignore all this modern BS in a 5th century society? I'll tell you what it is. Repetitive and dull without a substance. That sounds very harsh, but it's my opinion and I'm sticking to it. Also the dialogue seemed very clunky in this version. There were parts I'd have to re-read five times an exchange of sentences between characters because I'd have no idea what the heck they were even talking about or why they were taking about it!

I somehow ended up finishing this, but it took much longer than it did the other two. This probably isn't the worst translation of Lysistrata out there but it's gotta be down there. At least the Spartan's don't have annoying Scottish accents like Jack Lindsay's translation or Parker's translation where they sound like hillbillies (because that makes a lot of sense, right)!? You just have to learn to identify a good translation and a bad one. I hope this review is helpful for some. Again, it is my opinion, but I do stand by these opinions strongly.

Also no, I am not reviewing Parker's and Lindsay's translations.

I hate this book because I got arrested on account of it. I was at the University of Texas' Perry Castaneda Library and it got lost amidst the shuffled stack of books which I dumped into my backpack when I left.

Exiting the library the sensor went off.

Sorry, I forgot to check it out. No big deal, happens all the time.

But the Department of Collegiate Fascism, aka the UTPD, are required to file a report. Bored from arresting 19-year-olds for walking down the street half drunk they show up like it's the scene of a hostage crisis. And, unlucky me, it turns out I have a warrant for an unpaid alcohol-possession ticket.

Still, no big deal. I can go down to the station and pay it. Fine. But this is the lobby of a large student library and I am surrounded by my fellow students, all of us dutifully studying on a Tuesday night. As such, might I please just walk out to the police car?

GET AGAINST THE WALL MOTHERFUCKER!

A.J. COVER ME WHILE I SEARCH THIS SCUMBAG!

GOTCHA COVERED BUDDY! [Loudly cocks shotgun]

NO WEAPONS ON HIS TORSO! NOTHING UP HIS SPHINCTER! NOTHING TIED TO HIS BALLSACK... BUT WAIT, LET ME SQUEEZE HARDER!

[Sound of testes being crunched by human fist]

OK THIS PERP'S CLEAN! GIT ME MY CUFFS!

[Sound of me being viciously shackled]

YOU GIT THAT ARM! HELP ME DRAG 'EM OUT TO THE SQUAD CAR! HOLD ON! HE'S MEEKLY PROTESTING! HAND ME MY BLUDGEON!

[Egregious violence]

YEAH! GIT SOME! GIT SOME! GIT SOME MOTHERFUCKER! YEAH A.J. KICK 'EM SOME MORE! GIT SOME, BITCH! Ok he ain't movin'.

[Sound of manacled body being dragged across library lobby, accompanied by the stunned silence of onlookers]

Thus ended my experience with Lysistrata. I never got to the ending, although in later years my various girlfriends, in the manner of Ghandi protesting English oppression of the Indian subcontinent, were wont to use "Lysistratan nonaction" to protest my rampant drinking and proneness to random street violence.

Not recommended.

“Non sono che una donna, ma possiedo la ragione. ” (v. 1124)

Mi sono sempre domandata che cosa sarebbe accaduto se il governo del mondo, fin dagli albori dell’umanità, fosse stato nelle mani delle donne invece che in quelle degli uomini. I popoli si sarebbero scannati vicendevolmente così come si è verificato nel corso della storia? Le guerre avrebbero scandito in modo altrettanto inevitabile le vicende del genere umano?
È difficile rispondere perché, anzitutto, si deve riconoscere che se da un lato ci sono mancate fin dall’inizio la forza fisica e una dose in più di testosterone, dall’altro non sono mai state sconosciute neppure a noi donne qualità eccelse come la crudeltà, l’avidità e la sete di potere che condividiamo senza complessi d’inferiorità con l’altro sesso. Esiste però anche una terza considerazione di cui tener conto: la donna è madre e vedere i propri figli – e in generale i propri uomini – partire con in mano una lancia o un kalashnikov, lasciandoli immolare sull’altare di quei miti (patria e impero, gloria e onore) strumentalizzati dai governanti guerrafondai di ogni tempo e luogo, ritengo non sia stata la massima aspirazione di nessuna donna.
Insomma, inutile interrogarsi su tale questione: forse avremmo dichiarato e organizzato guerre peggio degli uomini o forse ci saremmo adoperate per stringere il mondo in una sorta di abbraccio d’amore universale… Di certo, non lo sapremo mai.
Le donne che porta in scena quel genio poetico di Aristofane non lasciano e non hanno dubbi: la pace è l’unica via da percorrere. La scelgono, la vogliono, la impongono. E ci riescono facendo ricorso a un valido argomento, rispetto al quale nessun uomo (in verità, neanche una donna, ma a quanto pare sull’altra categoria ha maggior presa) può restare del tutto indifferente: il sesso.
Ben consapevoli del potere insito nel proprio corpo quale strumento di ricatto, le donne ateniesi e quelle di altre poleis greche, capeggiate da Lisistrata, promotrice della bella pensata e portatrice già nel nome della sua missione (“colei che scioglie gli eserciti”), occupano l’acropoli sullo sfondo di un’Atene del V secolo a.C. ormai sfinita dal lungo conflitto del Peloponneso, dopo aver giurato di negarsi carnalmente a mariti e amanti fino alla rinuncia incondizionata da parte di questi ultimi a combattere sui vari fronti che li tengono lontani da casa per diverso tempo. È una decisione non facile da prendere, come si evince dai tentennamenti iniziali e da qualche successivo tentativo di defezione da parte di alcune, presa davvero a malincuore. “Eppure bisogna farlo; abbiamo troppo bisogno di pace” (v. 144), conclude la spartana Lampitò.
E gli uomini? Come prevedibile, non prendono bene lo sciopero sessuale attuato senza pietà dalle loro donne, sciopero che vedono, oltre che come un intollerabile venir meno dei doveri coniugali, pure come qualcosa di assolutamente insensato: “Mi fai star male e soffri anche tu” (vv. 892-893), dirà un marito alla moglie; prenderle con la forza significherebbe poi penare per nulla poiché, come sostiene Lisistrata, se non piace a lei non può piacere neanche a lui.
Alla fine, piegati dall’astinenza forzata più che dall’assennatezza e dalla bontà delle intenzioni dell’altra parte (“È una pena; andiamo per la città tutti curvi, come se reggessimo delle lanterne”, vv. 1002-1003), gli uomini accettano, ma non ci fanno comunque una bella figura: ottusi, indecisi sul da farsi fino all’ultimo, vorrebbero una cosa senza dover necessariamente rinunciare all’altra. E non si fanno amare: “Io gli voglio bene, certo; ma è lui che non vuole lasciarsene volere” (vv. 870-871), dice sconsolata del proprio consorte una delle occupanti dell’acropoli. Non sono dunque alte motivazioni a spingerli a tradire la vocazione militaresca: sic et simpliciter, piuttosto che rinunciare a farsi una scopata (ma sì, concediamoci pure una palese volgarità degna della migliore vis comica di Aristofane che, a giudicare da quanto di esplicito si legge nel testo, non l’avrebbe certo disdegnata!), meglio invece rinunciare a fare la guerra, almeno per il momento; del resto, riprendendo Catullo, anche ciò che dice un uomo può essere scritto nel vento e nell’acqua che rapida passa.
Decisamente attuale, questa commedia, dal momento che la guerra, ahinoi, risulta tema sempre in voga, pur a distanza di ben oltre due millenni dalla stesura dell’opera. Fortissimo il personaggio della non più giovane Cleonice con le sue spudorate battute a doppio senso; delizioso quello di Mirrina, protagonista di un logorante giochetto di seduzione ai danni del marito Cinesia; semplicemente meraviglioso quello di Lisistrata che pone – e impone – finalmente la donna al centro della scena di un lavoro teatrale. Non la protagonista femminile passiva e rassegnata al fato, lamentosa e patetica sperimentata fino ad allora da un certo tipo di tragedia tacciata di misoginia, come ad esempio la Medea di Euripide, bensì un personaggio che lotta per ciò in cui crede, che ha voglia di fare e di farsi soggetto attivo anche in un mondo governato dagli uomini, dinnanzi ai quali non ha timore di parlare a testa alta mentre loro si ostinano a guardare il suo corpo e a non ascoltare il suo cervello. Aristofane è stato bravissimo a mettere nero su bianco tutto ciò: ecco perché mi piace molto questa commedia, un vero capolavoro del teatro antico!
Un testo, a tratti, forse spinto e irriverente, ma senz’altro carico di coraggio; lo stesso coraggio che servirebbe al mondo ancora oggi per scegliere la pace, la sola via che tutti dovremmo percorrere, donne e uomini insieme.

“Non esistono al mondo creature più sfrontate delle donne.” - (v. 369)

La guerra ventennale tra Atene e Sparta è diventata logorante per tutti ma gli uomini sono ciechi e sordi di fronte alla ragione e se nessuno li ferma continueranno a trucidarsi.
La scena si apre proprio su Lisistrata (” inquieta passeggiando dinanzi alla casa” ) che attende le altre donne chiamate a raccolta e alle quali vuole comunicare l’estrema decisione:
” (…) bisogna astenersi dal bischero (…) .

Di fronte a tale richiesta, però, le donne cercano pretesti. Non si sentono così coraggiose da potersi astenere sessualmente.
Ecco che Lisistrata è perno e caposaldo dell’azione: al compito di ricercare lo strumento con cui ricattare gli uomini e far cessare la guerra si aggiunge quello di convincere le donne che il sacrificio proposto è importante.
Fondamentale è questo spirito di sorellanza perché se alle donne non è permesso entrare nel campo delle decisioni qui con forza pretendono questo diritto: non più solo ascoltare ed obbedire a testa bassa con quel velo sul capo a segnare la condizione di inferiorità imposta ma con la forza dell’unione a dar voce alle proprie opinioni.
Rosso è il sangue versato in guerra.
Rosso è il colore del desiderio carnale che si esprime liberamente.
Sono ancora lontani i tempi delle dottrine artefatte che assoggettano e addomesticano la natura reale dei corpi come fossero bestioline selvatiche.
Lontano è lo spauracchio del peccato cristiano che frena, reprime, inibisce sotto la sferza di costumi e morali che terrorizzano con la visione delle fiamme infernali.
Qui in scena ci sono corpi di uomini e di donne liberi di dichiarare senza vergogna o timore la voglia di fare sesso.
E molto tempo dopo si dirà: «fate l’amore non fate la guerra»…

The introduction by Jack Lindsay I couldn't comprehend, but the play itself I quite enjoyed. The Spartans being rendered in Scottish vernacular by the translator was a nice touch, but left me struggling a bit with the text.

I only knew this as the comedy where the women go on a sex strike in order to stop the Peloponnesian war. I rolled my eyes a bit at that, thinking it was so typical to present sex as something that is important for men but not for women. How wrong I was! The women in this play are making a major sacrifice with their chastity. They are as lusty as their men. My other objection was that Greek men would have had ample recourse to slave girls who couldn't say no, and possibly to young boys as well. This is not addressed in the play, but the women do more than refuse sexual relations. They leave their homes, husbands and children must fend for themselves, they heckle the Assembly and occupy the Acropolis. They even demand the office of the Exchequer. Men are just wasting money on warfare, so clearly they cannot be trusted with state funds.

I do not necessarily subscribe to the notion that if women ruled the world there would be no war. But knowing how Greek women were treated at the time, and how few rights they had, it felt rather satisfactory to see them remind men of their value and abilities, and the fact that they were not slaves. In this play the women of states at war with each other show a remarkable sisterhood that I would wish for the world of today.

It should not prejudice my voice that I'm not born a man,
If I say something advantageous to the present situation.

It seems so obvious to us today (at least in my part of the world), but Aristophanes was pretty cool to put that out there in 411 BC.

uni read - rip Lysistrata you’d have loved the slogan “make love, not war”

Human nature does change. It is the necessary corollary to the reality of evolution. But it is also true that human nature changes very slowly. A powerful proof of this is the fact that Aristophanes's masterpiece, Lysistrata, remains as relevant to the 21st century A.D. as to the 5th century B.C.

If timelessness is the measure of a work of literature's greatness, then Lysistrata must easily rank among the greatest plays ever written.