Orestes (408 BC)
This ancient Greek drama is the sort of wild, funny and blood soaked extravaganza that puts Quentin Tarantino to shame. Orestes and his sister, Electra, are the children of Agamemnon, king of Argos, who led the Greeks against Troy in order to secure the return of Helen, who was his brother's wife. While Agamemnon was away, his wife Clytemnestra took up with his cousin, Aigisthos. So on the day Agamemnon returned from the war, Clytemnestra stabbed him to death in his bath (in her favor, it should be pointed out that before leaving for the war Agamemnon had sacrificed their daughter Iphigeneia to the god Artemis). The play picks up just days after Orestes and his loyal friend Pylades (who is also betrothed to Electra), at the behest of the god Apollo, have exacted revenge for Agamemnon by killing Clytemnestra and Aigisthos. Orestes is being driven insane by the Furies, who seek revenge for Clytemnestra, and the people of Argos are considering what to do with Orestes and Electra, the matricides.
Orestes has found himself torn between mother and father and the laws of mortals and the dictates of gods. He sums up the dilemma that he faced in a conversation with his maternal grandfather, Tynderaos:
I know I was wrong to kill my mother, but I was right
to avenge my father. There is another side
to the argument. What ought I to have done? Your
daughter gave me birth, but my father gave me
life. She was the field he ploughed which nursed
the seed he planted. I reasoned I was more the son
of the one who started me off, than of the one who
fed me later on.
And your daughter - the name "mother" sticks in my
throat - searching for sexual satisfaction
seduced a man. I'm embarrassing myself with these
revelations; her "secret husband" was
Aegisthus. I executed him - as Greek law says we
should - and then I finished the cleansing by
taking her life.
You say I should be stoned to death for this - but
it could equally be said that I am doing the men of
Greece a favour. If the female sex is not controlled,
it could become trendy for wives to murder
husbands, take refuge with their children and fish
for sympathy by flashing their breasts. What
would there be to stop them husband-murdering on
any pretext? My so-called "heinous crime" has
saved us from such conduct becoming common. I took
a stand and punished my mother for
betraying her husband's bed, while he was away leading
his country's army in defence of Greece.
Although she knew she'd done wrong, she did not
face the consequences. To escape due
punishment at her husband's hands, she did the punishing,
and killed my father.
What should I have done? Disobey the gods and betray my father?
Itës you fault my life is ruined. Youëre the one
who fathered my mother, and she made me fatherless
and a mother murderer.
Apollo's the one you should be looking at. Apollo
has his temple at the centre of the world. He gives
men very clear advice, and we accept that whatever
he tells us as the truth. When I killed my
mother, I was obeying Apollo. He's the criminal,
stone him to death! He was wrong, not me! What
should I have done? Is the god powerless to absolve
my guilt? Who can a man turn to, if the god
whose orders he obeyed can't get him a reprieve
from death? What was was done was for the best
- though not the best for those who did it.
When eventually the citizenry decides to stone Orestes and Electra to death, Orestes appeals to his uncle, Menelaos, to intervene. Menelaos, Helen's husband, refuses to help, despite his enormous debt to Agamemnon and the enraged Orestes decides to kill Helen and their daughter, Hermione, in retribution.
It all goes horribly amok and Apollo ends up intervening to straighten the whole mess out:
O Menelaus, check now the
passion welling in your breast!
'Tis I, Apollo, Leto's son,
stand here and call your name!
And you, with sword, who
terrorise that maid,
Orestes, I am come so all
may learn their fate.
Helen, whom you tried so
eagerly to kill,
To rouse Menelaus' wrath,
has gone.
I saved her and I spirited
her away,
On Zeus' orders, from your
sword.
As Zeus'Ýdaughter she'll
immortal be
And live in heaven with
her brothers twain,
Pollux and Castor, the heavenly
twins,
An extra star for ships
to steer their courses by.
Menelaus, choose another
wife:
Helen's beauty was exploited
by us gods
To force the Greeks and
Trojans into war -
A needed cleansing of the
earth,
When populations grow too
large.
So much for Helen. You, Orestes
there,
Must cross the frontiers
of this land
And live an exile 'til a
year has passed.
The natives of the place
you stay
Will not forget you, you'll
be pleased to know.
In memory they'll call the
town Oresteion.
Thence unto Athens must
you make your way,
To court; charged by the
Furies with your mother's death.
Don't fret: we gods will
rig the votes.
You'll win your case and
then walk free.
She at whose throat you aim
that sword,
shall then (surprise!) become
your wife.
You promised Pylades your
sister once;
Give him Electra, let them
both find bliss.
Menelaus, let Orestes rule
the Argive land:
You go and reign on
Sparta's throne,
A compensation for the wife
you lost,
And all the grief she heaped
on you.
Orestes, I'll fix things
with the people here:
I made you kill your mother,
so it's only fair.
The two passages I've quoted above are from Etexts of the play; the
translation that I read, by John Peck and Frank Nisetich, is more modern
and colloquial, making for very easy reading. The whole thing makes
for a rollicking, over-the-top, slugfest, with few redeeming features or
edifying messages. But boy, is it fun.
(Reviewed:)
Grade: (A-)
