SOCIETAS RANAE

In 405 BC, Aristophanes wrote a play with Dionysus at the center of a dilemma: The god of wine is on a quest to save the city of Athens from itself by rescuing a dead poet. But which poet? What kind of art does the city of Athens need? It’s a sharp satiric comedy with an underlying question about art and ego.  Βάτραχοι or The Frogs, takes it’s name from the rowdy chorus that heckles from the sidelines, chanting brekekekex koax koax.* 

Thousands of years later the plot still resonates — when the stakes feel heavy, you need a chorus to cut through the pomposity and point you back to what matters. 

Welcome to SOCIETAS RANAE, an invitation‑only society for you, our chorus: buyers, sommeliers, retailers, reps, writers, and service people who don’t just work with wine; we drink it. The premise is simple: offer what we, as winemakers enjoy access to – rarities, reserves and renegades plucked from the Frog’s Leap cellar; shared with the understanding that while we all enjoy the inevitable trips down the rabbit holes of our passions—the truly successful journey ends with someone pulling a cork.

 We’ll send occasional notes, a few well‑timed drops, and the kind of offers we’d want in our own inboxes. No fanfare, just acknowledgment that, in a noisy, status‑hungry wine world, we will always value the people who believe wine is a joyous part of a gracious life.  

Note: Brekekekex koax koax” isn’t really translated so much as performed—it’s Aristophanes’ onomatopoeic rendering of frogs croaking so it basically means “Ribbit‑ribbit, croak‑croak” – a stylized chorus of frog sounds, not a phrase with lexical Greek meaning. If that makes you smile then you’re probably one of us. 

The main themes in Aristophanes’ *The Frogs* cluster around art, politics, and the clash between old and new. The central contest between Aeschylus and Euripides is really about what poetry and drama are *for*:  
– Aeschylus stands for weighty, morally serious, tradition‑minded tragedy that “educates” citizens and stiffens their spine.
– Euripides stands for clever, analytic, demystifying drama that questions norms and teaches people to think critically.

The play argues that art shapes public character and that, in crisis, the city needs art that upholds courage and virtue rather than just sophistication. Throughout, *The Frogs* pits “old ways” against “new ways”—in politics, culture, and theatre.
– The older poet (Aeschylus) and older civic values are portrayed as sturdier and more reliable for a city under pressure.
– The newer style (Euripides) is witty and engaging but blamed for eroding respect, discipline, and shared myths.

The underlying message is conservative: in a period of decline, Athens should return to tested traditions. Poets in the play are explicitly treated as **educators and advisors** to the city.
– Aeschylus boasts that his plays taught Athenians how to be brave, endure hardship, and defeat their enemies.
– The whole agon is framed as a job interview for which poet’s guidance can best help Athens out of its political and moral crisis.

This theme insists that theatre is not just entertainment; it’s a civic tool with real consequences. The play was written during the late Peloponnesian War, and it’s haunted by the sense that Athens is in trouble.
– The chorus explicitly comments on bad leadership, fickle citizenship policies, and demagogues.
– Dionysus’s mission—to bring back a poet who can “save” the city—reflects a hope that better ideas and better guidance might reverse the decline.

Dionysus is a comic mess at the start—vain, cowardly, and confused about his own authority.
– Repeated costume-swaps with Xanthias blur master/slave and god/mortal, playing with identity and status.
– By the end, Dionysus has to make a serious choice between poets, and he matures enough to pick the one whose work will best serve Athens, not just his personal taste.

Taken together, *The Frogs* uses a noisy frog chorus and an absurd underworld road trip to stage a very sober set of questions: What kind of art does a wounded city need? Who should guide it? And when do you trust tradition over clever novelty?