American Journal of Philology

C. W. Marshall's new book forms part of the productive trend towards treating ancient theater as performance. In 1991 David Wiles began The Masks of Menander (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, xi) by commenting on the institutional divide between classics and drama studies. Marshall, as a writer, occupies the unusual position of being able to speak both as a classicist and a professional actor, with substantial credits in both improv and Shakespeare. His work is influenced by writers in theater studies, particularly Susan Bennett on audiences, Keith Johnstone on improv, and Jacques Lecoq on masking and physical movement. Among writers on ancient comedy, he shares with David Wiles a commitment to the serious study of masking, and with Timothy Moore a focus on the interaction between actors and audience. As a performer and director, he has often worked with Mark Damen and Mary-Kay Gamel towards an understanding of ancient drama through hands-on production. Above all, this book is based in Marshall's experience as an actor; having had the privilege of working with him on a production of Persa, I can attest that the physicality of his acting pops his sense of what happened on the stage of Plautus into vivid 3-D.

Marshall throughout prefers complex to simple models: the audience was not monolithic (no "Romans" here), venues differed in nature, the actors did not share a single status, literary influences on the plays were multiple (no tyranny of the "Greek original"). The introduction begins with a satisfyingly spiderwebby chart (2) laying out a stemma of influences on Plautus and, separately, Terence. As Marshall observes, audience members bring along their own performance codes, and "For Rome such codes are unlikely even to include knowledge of the play which the playwright claims as his source for the present entertainment" (109). (That is, to get a laugh out of Strange Brew, it is not necessary to know much [End Page 131] about Hamlet.) Venues for production would have been "found spaces" (47), often (following Sander Goldberg) a flat space in front of a temple, with the audience sitting on the steps, but generally any public space capable of holding a simple stage, backdrop, and seats. Marshall envisions the troupe as a mix of free and slave actors, some of whom owned others, opening up "convoluted situations" in the assignment of roles (87–88). Masks, as he demonstrates, could not have followed any rigid typology, especially (151) when they had to put a face on slaves who turned out to be free men (Captivi), whores who turned out to be virgins, and, I would add, Calydonians who turned out to be Carthaginians (Poenulus). The content of plays was determined by a simple bottom line: "the troupe sells an audience to the magistrates for a price" (83). Audiences were "heterogeneous" (186), and, while performance works to create a "consolidated audience," the "economic and social diversity of the audience itself exists in tension with this" (185); if the magistrates wanted to emphasize "Roman social stratigraphy," the plays worked to question divisions (77).

The theme throughout is "flexibility," in keeping with what for me is the book's most important hypothesis: the plays of Plautus were collaborative creations (186–87): they "contain lines that did not originate with the playwright" but from "the collective of the theatrical troupe" (268–69). Here, Marshall persuasively draws on his own experience with improv groups, invoking the lazzi of commedia dell'arte and the shtick of vaudeville (165, n. 10) to suggest how Plautus's plays were put together by what he felicitously dubs "shtickomythia" (193). Speaking here as a translator of Plautus, I would vigorously agree: the register often slips into jokes that are corny (e.g., Poenulus 279), and what is corn but a shtick-on plaster? Even the inventiveness of slave-torture insults feels a lot like "yo mama" jokes, the kind of call-and-response humor that young men in agonistic cultures perfect in verbal dueling. Most...