The Bacchae

Synopsis

What exactly did the makers of The Bacchae by Euripides base their queer version on? The original tragedy Bacchae was written in 406 BC as part of a trilogy, of which Iphigeneia in Aulis and the lost Alcmaeon in Corinth form the first and second part.

Dionysus (god of wine, pleasure and dance) is the son of Zeus and Semele, the daughter of Cadmus, the king of Thebes. Because not everyone believes he is a god, he has travelled to different cities to make it clear that he should be worshipped as a god. The piece begins with Dionysus appearing in Thebes in human form, having driven the women of Thebes from the city as Bacchae, which include Semele’s sisters, who spread the rumour that he is not a god. The Bacchae worship Dionysus.

He wants revenge on his cousin Pentheus, who also refuses to recognise him as a god. Besides his cousin Pentheus, Dionysus has it in for everyone who denies he is a son of Zeus. After returning from a journey, Pentheus is disgusted with the situation he encounters in Thebes: frenzied women who worship the stranger (Dionysus). These female followers were led to the forest by Dionysus, where they abandoned themselves to an orgiastic cult that has emerged around him. Pentheus intervenes and arrests Dionysus and the women. The Bacchae in the mountains are then whipped up into a frenzy by the god and kill and destroy everything in their path.

After Dionysus miraculously frees himself, he offers to help Pentheus. Pentheus rejects the offer, convinced as he is that forbidden pleasures are luring the women to the mountains. Dressed as a woman, led in secret by Dionysus, he goes to the mountains. On his way, he is discovered by the Bacchae, who tear him to pieces. Agave, Pentheus’ mother, takes the lead and proudly brings the head back to the palace. There, Cadmus slowly brings her back to reality, and she realises to her horror that she has killed her own son.

Dionysus now appears as a god, having taken revenge on everyone who denied his place of honour as a deity.

‘Control and chaos always exist side by side’

Interview with director Elli Papakonstantinou by Vincent Kouters

Together with her own theatre group ODC (pronounced odyssey), the Greek director, writer and visual artist Elli Papakonstantinou will make her debut at the Holland Festival with The Bacchae, a queer version of Euripides’ tragedy of the same name. Her work was previously presented at festivals in Europe and the United States, including Rotterdam’s O. Festival. She is very happy to be part of the Holland Festival programme because it ‘showcases the vanguard of modern performing arts’. She currently works with the likes of Ariah Lester, a performer from Venezuela who stands out with his androgynous appearance and countertenor.

What was it about The Bacchae that inspired you?

‘I’d already been interested in Greek myth for some time, with the idea of rewriting them. I really use it to further develop ideas I have. In Greece, adapting the ancient Greeks in such a radical way is considered disrespectful. But I don’t make my work for Greek, but rather international audiences.

‘There’s a scene in the original piece where Pentheus dresses up as a woman. He does this in order to visit the bacchants unnoticed. But when they see him, they tear him apart. This was the spark that led to this performance. This is the only drag element in all the Greek tragedies we know of. It inspired me to read the entire tragedy through this gender perspective.

Why do you keep returning to the ancient Greeks?

‘The ancient Greeks lived in a patriarchal system. Men wrote for men, and it was men who held power. This system is the foundation on which our whole western civilization was built. That’s why I enjoy going back and disrupting them, to expose the fault lines. I see it as a way of disrupting our way of thinking.’

‘I’m talking about the logos, the tragedy’s appeal to rational discourse, where the laws are inscribed. There’s also the mythos, the myth, and by contrast it’s wholly free. It’s the part of the tragedy based on older customs. It’s the collective dream that doesn’t care about laws or rules. Myth reflects people’s true desires.’

‘I seek to create new links with this mythos in my work. I want to explore the potential also present in our society, however constrained by materialistic forces. In the case of The Bacchae, I mainly draw on the myth. So the audience shouldn’t expect to see much of the original tragedy.’

What will we see instead?

‘A post-apocalyptic world with elements from futurism and pop. A family celebrating mother Agave’s birthday. It’s an upstanding, suffocating, politically correct world in which gender and relationships are governed by strict rules and labels. But then, Dionysus, god of wine and pleasure, appears in his ninja pop persona. He lands on this place on earth like a meteorite. Then, things start to happen. The bacchants can no longer control their bodies, they undress and devour king Pentheus. The performance then shifts from text-based to dance and musical theatre.

Is it a hopeful story?

‘Yes, I feel it’s a hopeful piece. What I think is hopeful is that it doesn’t have a traditional American happy end, but that it allows us to see ourselves in a different light. That we can explore our genders. That we have alternatives. That we can truly be ourselves eventually.’

Your work seems to be going from more traditional spoken theatre to musical theatre.

‘I like to work with mixed media. I’m always exploring new genres. During the COVID era, I was busy with digital theatre. I’ve also made ‘location theatre’, for example in former concentration camps. In this instance, I wanted to make the leap from language to a non-verbal world where dance and music take over. I’m interested in that breakpoint, the barrier that comes down. I hope the audience will be tempted to come along into this other world. That they won’t feel intimidated by the madness, but that they’ll see new possibilities, a new way to be free.’

Is that why you’re working with Ariah Lester?

‘I saw Ariah perform a few times in Rotterdam. I love his outrageous work as a singer and composer. He made the music for this performance and also plays in it. With a piece like this, it’s important to work with people for whom queerness is a lifestyle. Ariah plays Dionysus, the pop god who shakes everything up. What’s important to me when I make something together with others: we all see the world in different ways, so everyone brings their own perspective.’

You began your career as a theatre maker in England.

‘I left Greece when I was twenty. I lived in England for 15 years because I was very interested in English theatre. At the time, I had the chance to work with wonderful people like Sarah Kane and others from the in-yer-face movement. I felt at home in that group. English theatre was in full swing. At last, things were changing. Writers like Sarah Kane explored uncharted territory that went beyond realism entirely. We managed to shake things up.’

Is this something you still hope to do with your work?

I’m still looking to break down barriers. The 2011 crisis in Greece was a turning point for me. I was living with my family in Berlin at the time and decided to move back to Greece because I wanted to experience what was happening there. What was happening in Greece at the time was indicative of a feeling taking hold throughout Europe. It was a transition. This time period had a tremendous influence on my work.’

‘When the system collapses, art becomes more important. People started to wonder how they should live their lives. Everyday life is becoming increasingly irrational. What was normal one day is gone the next. All of a sudden, we could no longer use our debit cards because there was a maximum of 40 euros a week. Demonstrations became part of everyday life. I saw a woman among the demonstrators dressed in 1930s fashion and slowly singing an old song. Many people started to have a different understanding of art. No longer as a product to consume, but as a collective place to dream. As a condition for survival.’

You saw the crisis as a way out, an opening for a fresh start.

‘I fully broke free at the time. We, artists I mean, are all part of a system, a culture industry, but you need to know how to navigate it. If this system collapses, you’re wholly free to create. It was very liberating, and not just for me. There was a rock star in Greece who suddenly started to sing old songs. In an interview, he said that he’d always wanted to sing old songs, but that he’d never allowed himself to do so because everyone wanted him to sing rock songs. But all of a sudden, this was possible because no money was involved.’

How did you see this liberation reflected in your work?

‘It’s reflected in The Bacchae. The ancient Greeks had such moments, too. They believed humans come from chaos and subsequently try to control this chaos. I think our modern society needs such crises to remind us of the chaos we all emerge from. Control and chaos always exist side by side.