Friday Five: Theatre Seen This Year

Rachel Pengilly and Craig Alexander in Echo theatre's production of Wolf Lullaby

It's been a long time, but the theatres are open again and it is a delight to be back. I am trying to see what I can, dependent on my other commitments, and I shall try to report back (in chronological order).

5 Shows Seen So Far This Year:

1. Wolf Lullaby - Echo theatre, Queanbeyan Performing Arts Centre: Written by Hilary Bell, this is a play that asks, 'Is there intrinsic evil in the world?' When a young child is murdered in a small town, suspicion falls on nine-year-old Lizzie, played with alarming credibility by Rachel Pengilly. Her young parents (Natasha Vickery and Joel Horwood) are naturally confronted by the dawning realisation that their child may be capable of such a crime, and grapple with the fact that in some sense they created her (the father even goes so far as to ask if she is really his - tainted blood, and all that). When is one old enough to know the difference between right and wrong; storytelling and lies; boundaries and empathy? And how can one learn when presented with such conflicting role models (the arresting office, Ray is a fantastically flawed character - a dream part for an actor and one which Craig Alexander clearly relishes)? There could be an element of sensationalism with such material (and those with memories of  James Bulger in the U.K. and Derrick Robie in the U.S.A. might be tempted to avoid its visceral memories), but Jordan Best directs in the shadowy grey areas of nuance and suggestion, which is where she is at her most creative. This production is not lurid in any way, but it is deeply disturbing on many levels. 
2. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Canberra Repertory Theatre, Theatre 3: In the spirit of full disclosure I must admit that I don't really like Tennessee Williams' plays - I find them mean-spirited and whiny, without any warmth or sensitivity and I dislike his vindictive portrayal of women. Having said that, this is a good production, directed with pace by Anne Somes. The lead actors play out their drama well on a set by Cate Clelland, which evokes the heat and the irritation of the situation (although the lighting design is distracting and, while though very close to Williams' initial premise, it proves that a writer doesn't always know what is best for their play). Victoria Dixon plays Maggie, the titular cat, with frustration and boredom, biding her time and knowing exactly when to unsheathe her claws; Michael Sparks is strong as an unsympathetic Big Daddy and Liz St Clair Long has fun flitting about the stage with restless insecurity. The clear standout here is Teig Sadhana who shines in the difficult role of Brick, capturing angst, depression, frustration and self-loathing, while getting steadily drunk and remaining coherent. He radiated the appropriate amount of pain and self-pity, with a convincing energy, as he portrayed a former athlete who had been broken mentally and physically. While he remained a deeply flawed and unpleasant character, he never tried to deliberately win sympathy or ‘entertain’ us, which gave the character depth and realism.
3. Ben Elton Live 2021 - Canberra Theatre Centre: I'm including comedy in this review, because it is one of the first things to return to the stage, and also because I bought tickets for this gig about 18 months ago and am so excited it’s finally here. I first saw Ben Elton 30 years ago when I was a student in Manchester. I’ve seen him on nearly every tour since. I promise I’m not a stalker. I agree with others: he’s no longer an angry young man; rather a grumpy old git, and his material has aged with him. He is more self-aware than most of his audience (‘if you think you’re still 21 inside, ask an actual 21 year old’) and provides an informed and entertaining interpretation of the development of comedy in context. He’s still sharp and topical, and knows how to write things to make us think, and realise how little we know.



The cast of Canberra Repertory's Cosi

4. Cosi - Canberra Repertory Theatre, Theatre 3: This is the first time I've ever seen Louis Nowra's Australian classic about an idealistic young man trying to put on an ambitious production of Cosi fan Tutte in a psychiatric facility with patients who can't speak Italian. Or sing. It's got a lot to recommend it, most notably the sensitive direction from Sophie Benassi combined with some great performances. Chris Baldock was entirely committed to his portrayal of Roy (and I don’t just mean in that ghastly haircut and costume). He maintained a consistency in his gestures and ticks that felt genuine and not excessive. Perhaps the true testament to his acting was that I was more interested in the person than the illness, and I feel that captures the essence of the play more than any other accolade. Max Gambale as Henry had the strength to portray a role that was largely non vocal and to make him interesting and appealing, with sensitivity when required – his outburst over the Viet Cong and his presentation of the toy soldiers towards the end of the play felt a little like set pieces, but the pay-off was well earned. All the female characters are underwritten and Ruth is one of the hardest roles to play - Alex Pelvin played her with such aching calm and continuity that she became the most realistic of the characters on stage. Her quiet questioning of every detail was clearly reflected in her dedication to the integrity of the role and her natural warmth translated into her being the one person I really wanted to watch. Meanwhile Steph Roberts was good at capturing the mood changes and personality shifts in Cherry's character, but she occasionally strayed into caricature and played lines for laughs rather than truth. There is an inherent problem with amateur productions of plays about amateur thesbians in that it can be difficult to discern the difference between the 'good' and the 'bad' acting, and this was evident on some occasions. On the whole, however, it was affirming: in a world of political divisions, individual preoccupations, performance anxiety and patriarchal expectations of 'normality', we discover that what really matters is truth, connections and love.
5. Adam Hills: Shoes Half Full - Canberra Theatre Centre: Adam Hills is living proof that you can be a decent chap and still be bloody funny. He is inclusive and witty, highlighting his own inadequacies rather than belittling anyone else - he is happy enough to show us his prosthetic leg, to take it off, and admit that he would really have liked to have been born with two feet. His rapport with the audience is such that he even has the house lights slightly up so that he can engage more with us. He respects his fans from the deaf community and gets a laugh out of his sign language interpreter when he tells one of his more ribald or accent-related stories. I have heard some of these anecdotes before on previous televised tours or on The Last Leg but they are genuinely amusing due to the fact that he seems to get a real kick out of life (if you'll pardon the pun: I'm sure he would). Having lived in both countries and understanding the humour, highlights and cultural differences between them, he spans my UK/AUS divide perfectly (not a euphemism).

Putting the Cult into Culture: The Vesuvius Club

The Vesuvius Club by Mark Gatiss

Pocket Books

Pp.240

Mark Gatiss is well-known as an actor, screen-writer, and author, with multiple plaudits for (amongst other things) Dr Who, Sherlock, Dracula, The League of Gentlemen, The Madness of George III, and Coriolanus (for which he was nominated for an Olivier award for best actor in a supporting role). With The Vesuvius Club, his first non-Dr Who novel, he received a nomination in the category of Best Newcomer in the 2006 British Book Awards, thus assuring his position as a cult figure in the world of contemporary culture.

The Vesuvius Club is a Lucifer Box novel (the first of three), the subtitle of which is, “A Bit of Fluff”. This indicates that it is not to be taken too seriously, but also hints at a derogatory remark about a sexual partner. Indeed, there is lots of barely-concealed double entendre on account of the fact that, in the Edwardian era in which the novel is set, “London was in a bit of a panic with the recent exigencies of Mr O.F.O’F.W. Wilde so fresh in the memory.” A comment on the jacket describes the novel as “Oscar Wilde crossed with H.P. Lovecraft” and, with the addition of John Buchan, that pretty much captures the genre mashup. The tone is one of humour and horror with a dash of wit and the world of espionage; there are archaic views of beauty propounded by the aesthetes (namely youth and slimness), racist stereotypes, and action-packed set scenes.

Lucifer Box is a flamboyant portrait artist, who lives at Number Nine, Downing Street. “I know, ostentatious, isn’t it? But somebody has to live there.” He uses his position to get close to the rich and influential and to provide cover for his clandestine activities as a secret agent. The Royal Academy acts as secret headquarters, where the toilet partition wall slides up to reveal the spymaster (obviously this also has other seedier connotations). He enjoys his work and thinking up novel ways to eliminate enemies: “artistic licence to kill, you might say.”

His mission is to investigate the disappearance of the Cambridge Four; a group of scientists, all now missing, presumed dead. This madcap adventure incorporates a whirlwind of stock thriller scenes: a horse-drawn cab chase with pistols; a rendezvous in the mist at a mausoleum; wrestling in a steamy Turkish bath; underground S&M clubs; glittering parties; an attack by a venomous centipede; a hunt through the sewers; explosions; eruptions; and volcanoes.

From the opening sentence it is clear that Gatiss is parodying Wilde’s linguistic style. “I have always been the most appalling judge of character. It is my most beguiling virtue.” The novel is full of similar sayings, causing the reader to wonder whether it is a witty aside or an empty aphorism. The illustrations by Ian Bass echo those of Aubrey Beardsley, and the louche, world-weary attitude is also familiar, as he fulfils his role with equal relish and ennui. “It was midway between the fish course and the pudding, as Supple opened his mouth to begin another interminable tale, that I did the decent thing and shot him.”

The novel is a spirited homage to spy novels and the work of Oscar Wilde, with a dash of cultish horror blended into the thriller. It’s fun and frivolous and a perfect divertissement.

Friday Five: Moustaches

The no-nonsense reign-of-terror tache of Joseph Stalin

Last week we went to see the shake & stir production of Animal Farm, which was excellent. The person playing the character of Napoleon was sporting a moustache reminiscent of Joseph Stalin - obviously not accidentally. Generally I'm not a big fan of moustaches, but there are certain aspects of this type of facial hair that are instantly recognisable, and have become iconic. On the way home we discussed which ones instantly spring to mind.

1. Apparently it was once known as the 'toothbrush moustache'; now it can only be seen as the Hitler-tache. It was also popular with Charlie Chaplin (born 1889, the same year as Adolf Hitler) and Oliver Hardy (born 1892). So it seems that for a few years in the early 1990s, if one sported this style of tache, it would be touch and go as to whether one turned into a beloved comedian or a fascist dictator.

2. Salvador Dali lived his surrealist art through his facial hair - weird and improbable; somewhat nightmarish but certainly memorable. A special mention in this category must go to Hercule Poirot, who was also a twirling tache fan, but since he is fictional, I'm going with the David Suchet representation.

3. The mid-80s manly actor version as popularised by Tom Selleck and Burt Reynolds. It shouted American TV to me, and I found them strangely off-putting (plus I couldn't tell them apart). I always expect people with this type of tache to speak with an American accent.

4. Merv Hughes. He was a brilliant bowler who (being Australian) was equally revered and reviled by England fans, crowds of whom used to imitate his warm-up stretches behind him. But when his name is mentioned, the first thing that comes to my mind is that moustache.

5. For sheer shock factor, Austrian Conchita Wurst stands out with her 2014 Eurovision-winning entry that confused and confronted several viewers and made her a style icon for others. When she accepted the trophy she announced, 'We are unity and we are unstoppable', which she later admitted was a direct message to Vladimir Putin whose administration had implemented a law restricting LBGT rights the previous year. I have never liked a moustache more.     

That's all, folks!

Dear John: A Room Made of Leaves

A Room Made of Leaves by Kate Grenville

Text Publishing

Pp. 319

Supposedly this novel is a memoir by Elizabeth Macarthur, “wife of the notorious John Macarthur, wool baron in the earliest days of Sydney”. It is not, and we know it is not through a variety of fictional and literary devices, not least of which is the opening admonishment to “do not believe too quickly”. Kate Grenville has examined papers and letters written by Elizabeth Macarthur, and she tries to suggest what may be hidden between the lines as she reflects upon her sentence construction, and she peppers the memoir with speculation and modern sensibilities in relation to her feelings about ‘the natives’ and gender roles. Seen in this light it is a playful exercise in historical representation.

There are echoes of Eleanor Dark’s Timeless Land trilogy, as the new arrivals to Sydney Cove and Parramatta interact with the locals. Politics and personalities are surmised in short sketches, such as the temperament of Governor Arthur Phillip, and the conflict of struggling to acquire rights to land, of which no one had rightful ownership, is a central theme in the novel.

The premise is that it is Elizabeth who knew about breeding sheep, from her past life being raised on a sheep farm, and that she hid her skills behind her husband’s bombast. It is Elizabeth who is at the centre of images of wool and breeding combined with metaphors of tupping rams and protection of lambs, rather than John Macarthur. Macarthur himself is portrayed less than favourably, as “rash, impulsive, changeable, self-deceiving, cold, unreachable, self-regarding.” His character, however, is also assessed with a modern medical understanding of mental health. “My husband was someone whose judgement was dangerously unbalanced. There was a wound so deep in his sense of himself that all his cleverness, all his understanding of human nature, could be swept aside in some blind butting frenzy of lunatic compulsion.”

Australian $2 note featuring John Macarthur and a merino sheep (designed 1965)

This contemporary approach is echoed in the understanding of gender roles. Elizabeth reflects on the sexual experience with a modern cognisance of rape within marriage. She succumbed to him back in a hedge in Devon early in their courtship when she was flattered by his attentions and interested in what she viewed as an agricultural procedure. The experience left her pregnant and, with no rich protector, marriage was the best option she could hope for. Later, when she sees the treatment of female convicts, she feels compassion. “Mr Macarthur maintained that every one of these women was a harlot who deserved nothing better, but I did not believe him. By now I had learned enough about the narrowness of a woman’s choices to guess that they were not all harlots, only less lucky than I had been.”

Her morals are compromised when she has a liberating sexual affair with William Dawes, the colony’s surveyor, astronomer and mapmaker. This is entirely supposition on Greenville’s part and, although it serves the narrative, one wonders what Macarthur’s descendants make of this fictional fabrication. Dawes instructs Elizabeth in scientific adventure while conducting an erotic entanglement in a secret bower; the ‘room of the leaves’ of the title and the exquisitely designed cover. The parlours and salons of this world are stifling, while the outside world is wild and permissive, which is made abundantly clear. Elizabeth abandons herself to pleasure with another man, and also with herself, exclaiming, “How much better to have your own true self for company than to be lost in the solitude of an unhappy marriage.”

In the midst of the affair, she considers her connection to the particular part of the land on which she has experienced happiness, even though she knows it is ephemeral. The tone is one of the current reflection of reconciliation and understanding of the indigenous ownership of land, which does not seem to be recorded at the time. She knows that she is on Burramattagal land, and, although she takes it from them and farms it for profit, she condemns others who do the same: “Every settler with a deed in his pocket felt entitled to chase away the tribes from the land that he thought now belonged to him by virtue of that piece of paper.” She considers the fact that they “obstinately remained” with something reflective of settlers’ guilt.

The intricate weaving of the woodland copse is reflected in the capricious construction of the narrative, as Grenville teases out fancy from the few facts available. Elizabeth writes of her letters home, “I composed a glorious romance about all this for my mother. I would not lie, not outright. I set myself a more interesting path: to make sure that my lies occupied the same space as the truth. I am reading over the copy now, decades later, with admiration for my young self.” She twists apparently finding fun in this obfuscation, as a demonstration of her wit and intellect, just as Grenville does in her own interpretation.

She addresses us directly as Elizabeth, warning us not to put too much faith in the written word. “And, if I may tease you, my unknown reader, let me remind you that you have only my word for any of this.” This is a novel rich in imagination and confident in structure, which plays with the reader in a way one may find charming or sly, or possibly both.

Portrait of Elizabeth Macarthur by an unknown artist

Friday Five: Oscar-Nominated Films in 2021

Chloe Zhao with her Oscars for best picture and best director

The 93rd Oscar ceremony was odd. It is a shame that it will be remembered for the fact that it was held in a train station and that half of the nominees weren't there. I would rather remember it as being the night that Chloe Zhao went home with the best director gong, making her only the second woman in the Academy Awards' history to do so. 

It was the night that the award for best picture was moved from its final glory spot to make way for the best actor picture because everyone expected Chadwick Boseman to win it, thus providing an emotional end to the ceremony. He didn't, and there wasn't. Anthony Hopkins won it for his role in The Father, and he wasn't even there - not even via Zoom - so everyone just shuffled awkwardly off-stage and anyone watching was left going, 'Wait, was that it?'

Frances McDormand in Nomadland

I haven't watched all of the nominations for best picture, but I have watched five of them, and as it's a Friday, it seems appropriate to do this:

5 of 2021 Oscar-Nominated Films I've Seen:

1. Mank - I finally watched Citizen Kane in preparation for this film. That's probably the best thing about it. Writer, Jack Fincher, and director, David Fincher, have created an homage to what many critics consider the best film ever by celebrating the work of the disputed screenwriter, Herman J Mankiewicz. Black and white highly stylised cinematography, and a keep-your-eyes-on-the-prize performance from Gary Oldman make this an artistic exercise but not necessarily a great picture. Sure, if you're into Hollywood history and you care about William Randolph Hearst and the background to the film, it would be one to add to the bingo cards of name-dropping references, but it's all a bit smug and self-assured.  And I'm just a bit tired of watching men stand or sit around and shout at each other.
2. Nomadland - Frances McDormand plays Fern, a woman who is 'not homeless but houseless' as she travels the United States looking for work as if in a modern version of The Grapes of Wrath. She is seen cleaning toilets in truck stops, boxing up goods in the soulless Amazon warehouse, or sorting beets in Hardy-esque scenes, but there are also wide sweeping vistas of the incredible scenery of this beautiful country - the sunsets and dawn are breathtaking, despite the harsh bleakness of landscape, often boiling in summer and literally freezing in winter. She meets up with other itinerants (many playing versions of themselves as the characters of the original source material book) as they all traverse the land that doesn't belong to anyone, and they talk of seeing each other again 'down the road'. These people reject the American dream of home ownership and fixed roots; they do not claim exclusivity and nights spent in houses - that of her sister or companion, Dave (David Strathairn) - are claustrophobic and limiting. There is only a finite space for self-made millionaires, capitalist growth and rampant individualism - the rest of us have to share the planet, and the conversations held at a closed dinosaur park are laden with metaphor. At the awards ceremony, McDormand howled like the 'lone wolf' that Americans like to admire, calling on their romanticised visions of outlaws, cowboys and pioneers, but the reality is very different and isolation is often not chosen but due to circumstance. Many of these travellers have lost their position in life and society because they can't afford to pay for their medical needs, and the film is a searing indictment of the plight of older people and the truth of the health 'industry' in the States. Nothing is definite - friendship; parting; life itself - and humanity is found in home-made spas and campfire meals: they may travel alone but there is beauty when they come together. 



3. Promising Young Woman - Yes, we’re f*#^ing angry! I loved this film; not sure it was entirely suitable for date night! Carey Mulligan is amazing and the treatment of this horrendous material is sensitively handled by director, Emerald Fennell. At times it has a graphic novel/ raunchy thriller vibe, because, like, how else are you going to get the entitled would-be rapist frat-boys to watch it, right? These are the boys that whine, ‘Why do you have to ruin everything?’ when a woman dares to stop their 'fun' with an accusation of abuse.
4. Sound of Metal - If you're a drummer in a metal band who loses his hearing it must be very tough personally and professionally. Riz Ahmed portrays Ruben going through this nightmare, and we suffer through it all with him. His movements and facial expressions are simultaneously contained and eloquent, and he fully deserves his best actor nomination.  It seems to encompass the experiences of the deaf community, but what would I know? The film plays with sound in a way that enhances more than it limits and is a total shoo-in for the newly created 'sound' Oscar (which combines the previous sound editing and sound mixing awards). Our hero is also a recovering heroin addict, and his world is insular as a result, which is naturally self-obsessed and not appealing. This is doubtless a deliberate ploy by director Darius Marder, but it risks putting style over engagement.
5. The Trial of the Chicago 7 - We know what to expect from writer and director, Aaron Sorkin: lots of sharp dialogue and walking and talking down corridors. We know what to expect from a courtroom drama about Vietnam War protestors: disparate voices of Students for a Democratic Society; Youth International Party; National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam; Black Panthers; all of whom are charged with trying to incite a riot at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in August 1968. The lawyers, Schulz and Kuntsler battle it out in front of a prejudiced judge who is suspected of senility. We know what to expect from the outstanding ensemble of actors playing these parts including Eddie Redmayne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Mark Rylance, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Michael Keaton: passionate dedication to a script and a compelling delivery. And the film produces the goods, right down to the mawkish Dead Poets Society ending scene. It's a history lesson served up as entertainment. Exactly as expected.

It Comes to Us All: Reaper Man

Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett

Corgi Books

Pp. 287

Reaper Man is the eleventh Discworld novel and fleshes out the character of Death, as it were. In this adventure, Death’s time is running out; things aren’t dying the way they should be, which interrupts the fabric of existence; and everything is “filling up the world with life force.” Windle Poons is the oldest wizard in the world, and he is supposed to die, but Death doesn’t show up to collect him, so he doesn’t. Instead, he becomes a member of the Fresh Start Club, a dead rights activism group led by Reg Shoe and comprising other undead folk, such as a vampire and his wife who is desperately trying to conform to stereotype; including wearing certain clothes and speaking with a strong Eastern European accent. We also encounter Ludmilla, a werewolf who changes from woman to dog at full moon, a male dog, Lupine, who changes to human form at the same time, and a bogeyman called Schleppel who likes to lurk behind doors, so much so that he carries his own with him.

Meanwhile, oblivious to all the chaos, Death assumes the mantle of Bill Door and finds work at Miss Flitworth’s farm as an actual reaper man, helping with the harvest, leading to an extended gag about a scythe vs a Combination Harvester. As his time runs out both literally and metaphorically through a sort of egg-timer/ hour glass, he attempts to fit in with the villagers, drinking beer and playing darts. “It was amazing how many friends you could make by being bad at things, provided you were bad enough to be funny.” He is not used to living, which he finds odd, but also confronting. “Was that what it was really like to be alive? The feeling of darkness dragging you forward? How could they live with it? And yet they did, and even seemed to find enjoyment in it, when surely the only sensible course would be to despair.”

Delightful cameo appearances and side swipes at conventional wisdom, recall a fantasy Dickens. Mrs Cake is a clairvoyant who is able to answer questions before people have asked them – they still have to ask them anyway. The faculty wizards at the Unseen University get all sorts of things muddles, which makes for moments of humour, for example, when the Archdeacon (Ridcully) suggests that an RSVP is requested to an invitation, the Bursar exclaims, “Oh, good, I like sherry.” Ridcully himself is “simple-minded. This doesn’t mean stupid. It just meant that he could only think properly about things if he cut away all the complicated bits around the edges.”

The plot is suitably fanciful as evil snow globes hatch into shopping trolleys that converge on places, operating like worker ants or bees around a queen. This might or might not be the case; it is difficult to know for sure. As with all of Terry Pratchett’s work, there is a comically reverent tone to the rituals of human life. He refers to belief as an entity that “sloshes around in the firmament like lumps of clay spiralling into a potter’s wheel” seeking to attach itself to things, such as gods and icons.

Despite all this absurdity and hilarity, there is a touching homily on the nature and meaning of life. “No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away – until the clock he wound up winds down, until the wine she has made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone’s life, they say, is only the core of their actual existence.” Terry Pratchett is comfort reading for a variety of reasons: his turn of phrase; his ridiculous characters; his twinkling humour and his gentle satire, but above all it is his strong moral compass that truly points the way and keeps his readers coming back.

Friday Five: Women of the Odyssey

I'm in the middle of rehearsals for The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood, which is a retelling of The Odyssey, focussing on Penelope, who was left behind while Odysseus went off to war and then travelled around having adventures rather than returning to her in a timely manner. I'm co-producing and directing the play which will be on at the Courtyard Studio in Canberra from 7-17 July. I have always loved mythology and the value of storytelling, so have thoroughly enjoyed providing a bit of context to some of the characters mentioned in the text. 

5 Female Characters mentioned in The Penelopiad

Pallas Athena (1898) by Gustav Klimt

1. Athena, also spelled Athene, in Greek religion, is the protector of Athens, and the goddess of war, handicraft, and practical reason – her Roman equivalent is Minerva. She was essentially urban and civilised, the antithesis in many respects of Artemis, goddess of the outdoors.

 She was the daughter of Zeus, produced without a mother – the myths tell how she emerged fully-formed from Zeus’s head, after he swallowed Metis (the goddess of counsel) when she was pregnant with Athena. Being the favourite child of Zeus, she had great power.

She represents the intellectual and civilised side of war and the virtues of justice and skill. In the Iliad, Athena is the divine form of the heroic, martial ideal: she personifies excellence in close combat, victory, and glory. The qualities that lead to victory are found on the aegis, or breastplate, that Athena wears when she goes to war: fear, strife, defence, and assault. Athena appears in Homer’s Odyssey as the Odyssey’s goddess guardian. As the guardian of the welfare of kings, Athena became the goddess of good counsel, of prudent restraint, and practical insight as well as of war. She is often depicted in art with armour, a golden helmet, a shield, and holding a spear. Her armour is the aegis made, in some accounts, from the skin of a Giant, hung with tassels of gold, and featuring the head of the Gorgon given to her by Perseus.

Athena became the goddess of crafts and skilled peacetime pursuits in general. She was particularly known as the patroness of spinning and weaving. That she ultimately became allegorized to personify wisdom and righteousness was a natural development of her patronage of skill.

Circe Offering the Cup to Ulysses (1891) by John William Waterhouse

2. Circe is a sorceress known for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs, and her ability to use these enchantments to transform her enemies, and those who offended her, into animals. In myths she is known to turn an Italian king who spurned her advances into a woodpecker, and when a sea-god preferred the nymph, Scylla, to her, Circe poisoned the water where her rival bathed and turned Scylla into a dreadful monster.

In the Odyssey she is described as a beautiful goddess surrounded by tame wolves and lions. She lures any who land on her island to her home with her lovely singing while weaving on an enormous loom, and then drugs them so that they change shape. When Odysseus visits her island, she invites his crew to a feast and turns them into swine - Odysseus is protected by Athena from drinking the drugged wine that effects the transformation, and he is able to rescue his men, although he then remains on the island for over a year and has several sons by Circe.

She became representative of the results of drunkenness and gluttony over abstinence and self-control. Because she made men lose their reason and act like lustful beasts she was accused of witchcraft and considered the archetypal seductress and whore - clearly female sexual desire was perverted and the poor men couldn't possibly remain chaste and faithful in the face of such evil. 

It has been argued that the fairy Titania, in William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, is an inversion of Circe. In this case the tables are turned and she is made to love an ass after, rather than before, he is transformed into his true animal likeness. Naturally, feminist interpretations reveal her in a more flattering light, and in her poem of 1870, the English poet Augusta Webster posits that when she met Odysseus and his men Circe did not turn them into pigs but merely removed their disguise which made them seem human.

The Three Fates (circa 1855) by Paul Thumann

3. The Three Morai also known as the Three Fates, are three goddesses who determine the course of human life. According to Thomas Bullfinch in Bullfinch's Mythology, they are described as the daughters of Night – to indicate the darkness and obscurity of human destiny – or of Zeus and Themis (Law), that is ‘daughters of the heavens.’ They were Clotho, who spun the thread of life; Lacheisis, who held it and fixed its length; and Atropos, who cut it off.”

Stephen Fry in his book, Mythos, instructs, "Their name derives from a word that means ‘portion’ or ‘lot’ in the sense of ‘that which is allotted to you’. ‘It was not her portion to be loved’, or, ‘It was his lot to be unhappy’, are the kinds of phrases Greeks employed to describe attributes or destinies apportioned by the Moirai. Even the gods had to submit themselves to the Fates’ cruel decrees.”

He continues, “The Fates seldom allowed glory and triumph without the accompaniment of suffering and sorrow... The Greeks felt that for every individual there was a personal, singular moira that could be expressed as a mixture of necessity, doom, justice and fortune. Something between luck and kismet.” Isn't it interesting that the Greeks had a world of gods doing terrible things to humans (raping, abducting, torturing...) and it's the women who get blamed?

The Delphic Sibyl (detail from the Sistine Chapel) (1509) by Michelangelo

4. The Oracle “answers from the gods to questions from mortals seeking knowledge or advice on the future. They were usually given in equivocal form so as to fit an event. Also the places where such answers were given forth by a priest or a priestess.” - Thomas Bullfinch

“In a trancelike state of prophetic ecstasy the priestess would sit out of sight on her interrogator, above a chasm in the ground which channelled down to the womb of the earth itself, and call her ambiguous prognostications up into the chamber above where the anxious petitioner awaited her proclamation… Oracle never lies, but nor does (s)he ever give a straight answer, finding it amusing to reply with another question or a riddle so obscure as only to make sense when it is too late to act upon it.” - Stephen Fry

Lilaia the Naiad (2013) by Annie Stegg

5. Naiads are water nymphs of lakes, rivers and fountains. They derived their vitality and in turn gave life to the water in which they dwelled. Generally speaking, Naiads were not considered to be the most helpful of nymphs, for they could be vengeful when angered.