thwarting the bacchae
This weekend saw some of the most amazingly beautiful weather I remember in all my time living in New York. So tonight was (I thought) a perfect night to go and see a free performance of Euripides's The Bacchae near the suitably classical Soldiers and Sailors Monument in suitably bucolic Riverside Park.
Alas, 'twas not to be, for reasons I gleaned from a couple of overheard conversations.
Apparently, there's some sort of feral homeless person who lives near there, who looks down on classical Greek tragedies, and who took the liberty of strewing large quantities of his own urine about the setting, rendering it unsuitable for the production. As one of the actresses was saying to a woman, "You couldn't make this sort of thing up." A little later I overheard a couple of other guys in the production, one saying that they'd had trouble with this feral homeless person earlier in the summer, but they talked to the Parks Dept and he stopped peeing all over the place, but, unfortunately, "he was saving bottles of that shit" to use all at once in a grand tragedy-stopping deluge.
Which, by the way, could've saved hapless Greek youths tons of trouble; if only they'd known the way to ward off the Bacchae was simply to spray urine all over the place. The whole play could've ended differently.
Also, digressing for just a moment, who knew there was a Xena collectable trading card game? Anyway, the Bacchae Horde had a card there. The things we learn from Google.
And finally, I know this is why I should never be put in any sort of position of responsibility, but why again can't society simply kill feral homeless people who urinate all over the place, ruining nice folks' evenings of bloody horror?
Below "he" is Pentheus, "she" is Penthus's mom. Just so you know.
Alas, 'twas not to be, for reasons I gleaned from a couple of overheard conversations.
Apparently, there's some sort of feral homeless person who lives near there, who looks down on classical Greek tragedies, and who took the liberty of strewing large quantities of his own urine about the setting, rendering it unsuitable for the production. As one of the actresses was saying to a woman, "You couldn't make this sort of thing up." A little later I overheard a couple of other guys in the production, one saying that they'd had trouble with this feral homeless person earlier in the summer, but they talked to the Parks Dept and he stopped peeing all over the place, but, unfortunately, "he was saving bottles of that shit" to use all at once in a grand tragedy-stopping deluge.
Which, by the way, could've saved hapless Greek youths tons of trouble; if only they'd known the way to ward off the Bacchae was simply to spray urine all over the place. The whole play could've ended differently.
Also, digressing for just a moment, who knew there was a Xena collectable trading card game? Anyway, the Bacchae Horde had a card there. The things we learn from Google.
And finally, I know this is why I should never be put in any sort of position of responsibility, but why again can't society simply kill feral homeless people who urinate all over the place, ruining nice folks' evenings of bloody horror?
Below "he" is Pentheus, "she" is Penthus's mom. Just so you know.
Ignoring his cries of pity, she seized his left arm at the wrist; then, planting her foot upon his chest, she pulled, wrenching away the arm at the shoulder--not by her own strength, for the god had put inhuman power in her hands. Ino, meanwhile, on the other side, was scratching off his flesh. Then Autonoe and the whole horde of Bacchae swarmed upon him. Shouts everywhere, he screaming with what little breath was left, they shrieking in triumph. One tore off an arm, another a foot still warm in its shoe. His ribs were clawed clean of flesh and every hand was smeared with blood as they played ball with scraps of Pentheus' body.-Euripides, Arrowsmith trans., U. Chicago ed., ll. 1124-1136.
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