Friday 15 November 2013

Week #16 : 'The Frogs' by Aristophanes

Aristophanes, the only playwright whose comedic plays are the only left surviving from the Greek period to this day.  His play 'The Frogs' written 405BC and presented at the Lenaia Summer Festival where it won first prize.  Since then this play is not often performed in modern day, being overlooked by the classic Tragedies of the genre.  Yet, he was one of the most clever of al the Greek playwrights.  Incorporating philosophers, including Euripides, Sophocles and Aeschylus – not to mention Dionysus himself, he created the Old Comedies which encompass topics that the other great playwrights did (the Peloponnesian War, Family relationships, sex and death) he wrote in a comedic style that was more for the educated and intelligent than the general public.  Although he also wrote with an astonishing ability for comedy (now called Old Comedy) that was adopted into a Vaudevillian/Absurdist style of  comedy that is still used today.  Take for instance the first few lines of the play:

XANTHIAS: Shall I crack any of those old jokes, master, 
At which the audience never fail to laugh?

DIONYSUS: Aye, what you will, except "I'm getting crushed": 
Fight shy of that: I'm sick of that already.

XANTHIAS: Nothing else smart?

DIONYSUS: Aye, save "my shoulder's aching."

XANTHIAS: Come now, that comical joke?

DIONYSUS:With all my heart.
Only be careful not to shift your pole, 
And-

XANTHIAS:What?

DIONYSUS: And vow that you've a belly-ache.

XANTHIAS: May I not say I'm overburdened so 
That if none ease me, I must ease myself?

DIONYSUS: For mercy's sake, not till I'm going to vomit.

I believe that this showed a great forbearance to how we now perceive the comedy stylings of a duo: Abbot and Costello,  Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, Laurel and Hardy and even Walter Mattau and  Jack Lemon.


Aristophanes' play ‘The Birds’ was turned into a popular Opera, yet ‘The Frogs’ is much lesser known despite the list of characters he uses to unravel the processes of travelling to the underword to bring back to Earth one of the great dramatists of the age – Euripides.

The basis of the play is simple – Dionysus travels to the underworld with his servant to bring back Euripides from the dead.  Yet he does not bet on the journey being so difficult and fraught with decisions.
We are introduced to Dionysis as a theatre-goer.  He bemoans to the audience the sever lack of good dramatists in the world.  As the God of Wine, Theatre and Merry Making, he feels that this reflects upon him personally.  He resolves to go with his servant Xanthias and return with Euripides, the Prince of Dramatists.
With a lion-skin in tow, he disguises himself as Heracles (the Gatekeeper of Olympus) to herald his strength and ward against the possible dangers of the journey to the underworld.
Ferried across to the Underword by the boatman Charon, we are introduced to a huge croaking chorus of frogs – who seem to be the vocal link between the Earth and the Underworld.  In the meantime, servant Xanthias was denied a boat trip, he has had to walk across the lake to the entrance to the Underworld.

Taking the opportunity to get even with Heracles for misdeeds committed in the underworld, Dionysus forces his servant to change clothing/costumes with him (which alludes to a great banter between the two as a modern musical Vaudevillian style comedy).  The change is barely complete when a handmaiden of Proserpine to bid Xanthias (thinking he is Heracles) to a great banquet.  Dionysus insists that he changes back into the lion skin – that is until two housekeepers of Pluto (the God of the Underworld – in classical Greek mythology) attack Dionysus thinking that he is Heracles and wanting revenge for the damages he had done on his last visit to the Underworld. In a rush to prove his identity the chorus of frogs help to substantiate his true form.
The news soon spreads throughout the Underword that Dionysus has arrived to herald one of the great dramatists back to Earth.  There is a great disturbance and we hear quarreling from Aeschylus and Euripides, each trying to prove his worth to gain the position of the King of Tragedy and to take the high honour alongside Pluto for the great banquet.  It is soon decided that as both their plays were written and performed for the Dionysus Festival, that he should make the decision and decide who is to be the King of Tragedy.


A trial is set where Aeschylus and Euripides both need to prove their worth by presenting the first lines and verses from their plays.  Dionysus is torn between the two and originally takes the side of Euripides as he was the original intent of his visit to the Underworld.  Finally Aeschylus is declared with winner, yet it has also change the mind of Dionysus as to whom he wants to bring back to Earth.  Dionysus and Xanthias leave the Underworld, bringing back Aeschylus to write on Earth again, thus leaving Sophocles in the place of honour of King of Tragedy.

Like most classical Greek plays, the chorus is used as an intermediary between the main actors and the audience, both in representing what happens off stage to the audience and sometimes to the main actors, re-delivering imperative information to the audience and becoming the main conductors of movement on stage.  This play is no different, however there is a comedic prescense, not only used by the vaudevillian style comedy between Dionysus and Xanthias, but also with the information that the frogs deliver to the audience - always beginning with the requisite croaks and brekekex's of a typical frog call.

Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax, 

Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax! 
We children of the fountain and the lake 
Let us wake 
Our full choir-shout, as the flutes are ringing out, 
Our symphony of clear-voiced song. 
The song we used to love in the Marshland up above, 
In praise of Dionysus to produce, 
Of Nysaean Dionysus, son of Zeus, 
When the revel-tipsy throng, all crapulous and gay, 
To our precinct reeled along on the holy Pitcher day, 
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax.



It's nice to enjoy the lighter side of Classical Antiquity!



Next Week: 'The Room' by Harold Pinter


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