Make Love Not War? HaHa. I don't Think So...

Warning: This review contains R-rated language.

I first read the Lysistrata last year for a Women in Ancient Greece course and thought it was hilarious. I was shocked (in a good way) by some of the crude jokes and language. According to my professors, this translation (by Jeffrey Henderson of Boston University) approximates the vulgarity level of the original by using modern slang. In fact, I've been told, the original might have been even more racy.

Every time I read this play, I find more funny, little details and fantastic lines. The Greek Drama professor told us that everything in this play is innuendo, so keep that in mind when you read it.

I've read it at least five times in the past two weeks because I, along with thousands of other people around the world, am going to be in a production of the Lysistrata on Monday March 3, as part of a global anti-war statement. See www.lysistrataproject.com for more details and to find out if any productions are happening in your area. I've heard that Kevin Bacon has organized one! Does that make me one degree away from him in the game if we were both in Lysistrata?

Aristophanes wrote this play during the Pelopennesian War when Athens and Sparta were fighting and a Spartan government had been installed in Athens. The original is full of biting satire and obscure jokes about Greek politicians. So, as a modern analogy, Henderson makes the Spartan characters reminiscent of stereotypical Russians, since this translation was completed in 1988. A professor told me to imagine the Spartans talking like Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle.

This edition of the play features an excellent introduction that informs readers about the events of 411 BCE and Athenian politics. It also features a diagram of the type of stage they used in ancient Greece and some notes on costumes. All roles were played by men, and the actors all wore masks.

Lysistrata, the heroine of the play, comes up with a brilliant scheme to stop the war. If both Athenian and Spartan wives all vow to stop having sex with their soldier and politician husbands, the men will become desperate and will negotiate an end to the war.

However, these women are far from the frigid Victorian types who "lie back and think of the empire." Giving up sex is very difficult for them to do! Lysistrata's neighbor Calonice is a particularly randy character. In the opening scene, Lysistrata tells her that she's come up with a plan to save Greece.

"On sleepless nights I've tossed it back and forth," Lysistrata says.
"I guess it must be pretty limp by now," quips Calonice.

Lysistrata is not exactly a prude either. She says, "And since we don't get imports any more,/ we can't even buy a decent twelve-inch d ildo./ Well, it's not the real thing, but at least it's something."

When Lysistrata tries to convince other women to take a vow of celibacy, they resist. They say that they'll do anything to stop the war, but when they find out that it's sex, they say, "I guess we'll let the war drag on."

Calonice says, "If there's anything else at all, that's fine. Through fire/ I would even walk. But as for f*cking, no. / There's nothing like it, dear Lysistrata."

Finally, a Spartan woman agrees, and the plan begins.

A second aspect of Lysistrata's plan is that the older women will take over the Citadel so that the politicians cannot access the money they need to finance the war.

"Money's causing war?" the magistrate asks.
"Exactly," Lysistrata replies.

The part I play is the Men's Chorus, made up of war veterans. We try to force the women to leave the citadel. Along the way, we get into insult matches with the Women's Chorus, old Athenian wives.

Normally, anachronisms really bother me, but in this play, it works fairly well. (See my review of A Knight's Tale for a real tirade on the subject.) The one part of this play where the historical inaccuracy really stands out is when Lysisrata says something about "St. Peter" to the Magistrate. Most people are familiar with the Greek mythology of the Underworld, so I thought they should have referred to Charon and the river Styx instead.

As the play wears on, both the women and men become eager to get it on. Lysistrata catches women trying to sneak back home to their husbands. They make excuses involving "beating meat" and the need to "spread [their] wool out on the bed."

One of the best scenes in the play is Myrrhine's interaction with her husband Rod. His name is "Rodney Balling from Bangtown." Apparently, the original Greek made a similar joke with the man's name. Myrrhine teases him that she's going to sleep with him, but leaves without doing the deed. From this point on, there are a lot of jokes about erections. In our production, I get to wear a penis-shaped balloon! Rock on.

All of the lines in the play are a lot funnier when said aloud, so I would recommend going to see a production of this on Monday.

I think Lysistrata's plan is a brilliant one. If only we could get British, American, and Iraqi women to unite, we might be able to prevent war this time around. Some men might have to be involved in the vow, as well. Or maybe I'm just thinking of the South Park movie....

Taking a vow of celibacy can be good for your psychological well being, says Dr. Beckytcy. I was at a party last night, and one of my friends was complaining about the lack of men in her life. Based on the following conversation, it's clear that we were in the optimistic/"I love everyone" stage of drunkenness, which is immediately followed by the speaking in a British accent phase.

"But, we've taken a vow of celibacy to stop the war, remember?" I told her.

"Oh, yeah!! That's right! Thank you so much for telling me that." she replied.