BMCR 2008.10.11, Graham Ley, The Theatricality of Greek Tragedy

Graham Ley, The Theatricality of Greek Tragedy: Playing Space and
Chorus.  Chicago:  University of Chicago Press, 2007.  Pp. 240;
halftones 5, line drawings 14.  ISBN 978-0-226-47757-2.  $40.00.

Reviewed by Mary-Kay Gamel, University of California, Santa Cruz
([email protected])
Word count:  2487 words
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[The reviewer apologizes for the delay in submitting this review.]

This book focuses on two aspects of the performance of Athenian tragedy
which, as the author notes, are central to the understanding of this
dramatic genre. Each discussed in a long chapter, these are the playing
space and the chorus, in particular the singing and dancing of the
latter.

Ley consistently seeks to distance his version of ancient performance
from contemporary ideas about drama. Athenian tragedy was "a kind of
performance that is substantially unfamiliar to us" (x) which was not
"straining in some way to reach the present" (6). Ley focuses on
practice, since "nothing can be presented in any theater that is not
practical when performers, objects, action, and space are involved"
(47), but the only practice that matters to him is the original
production conditions. He praises Ewans' research through practice and
criticizes Taplin for his "anachronistic" concept of "stagecraft,"
especially his focus on entrances and exits (2-3).

Overall Ley tries to reorient the discussion of tragedy in three
important ways. First, he stresses the role of the chorus (which he
always calls  choros) rather than that of the individual characters
(whom he calls "actor/characters"), arguing that "the substantial
function of the original, separate performer" was to address the
chorus. Later developments, he believes, provide a "gradual
amplification of a choric form of performance, not a move away from it"
(7) since "the singing and dancing of a choros were a sufficient
satisfaction in themselves" (9) and "The situation and state of the
choros, expressed in song and dance, provides the core of the tragic
experience" (202).

Second, Ley focuses on the orchestra rather than the skene. The latter
appeals to modern scholars, he believes, because its "frame" accords
with modern performance conditions but he believes the central feature
of the ancient playing space, "physically and in conception, is the
space in which a choros sings and dances" (8). He finds strong
connections between dithyramb and tragedy, since the former was "the
defining choros of the democracy" which represented the new tribal
structure of Athens (173) and united "the orchestra and theatron on
behalf of the Athenian polis in honor of Dionysus" (8). He puts much
emphasis on the circle--of performers, not of the playing space, since
what happened inside was far more important than its outline (8)--and
connects the circular form to democratic institutions.

Third, Ley thinks spoken dialogue has been given too much precedence
over song and dance (which he calls choreia) and that the distinction
between these modes has been overemphasized. He refers to the Greek
playwrights as "composers" and thinks the text of a Greek tragedy
should be understood "as a vocal rather than just a semantic script."
He distinguishes between different modes of vocal delivery and
correctly points out that translations "are often unconcerned to
differentiate" between these modes (85).

Ley's attempt to redefine and tighten the terms of discussions of
tragedy is thorough. He consistently downplays the influence of
individual playwrights, because "the notion of personal poetry . . . so
dear and so essential to the modern tradition" is less important in the
ancient world (130). At times this emphasis seems forced, for example
when he says about the conclusion of Eumenides and the transformation
of the Furies into protectors of Athens: "Dionysian composition, and
the powers of the Dionysian festival, are here at their most confident"
(195), as if the artistic and political ideology of Aeschylus had
nothing to do with this conclusion. He focuses on general trends, not
variations, seeking a "degree of regularity . . . in the repeated use
of similar conditions for composition and presentation" (8) and
frequently uses terms such as "familiar" "long-established"
"unexceptional." He critiques cultural and ideological preconceptions
both ancient (especially Plato's ethical and political concerns) and
modern (such as "Oriental softness" [139] or Wiles' semiotic and
structuralist analysis) and even objects to the term "lyric" for choral
odes because the lyre was not used in tragic performances (84).

The bulk of the first chapter (9-111) consists of discussions of what
would now be called "blocking," i.e. how Ley thinks the chorus and
actors of various plays would have moved in the orchestra. He gives
special attention to altars, tombs, and vehicles, presumably because
these are alternatives to the skene as foci of attention: "the altar,
tomb, or shrine contributes strongly to a definition of the space
essential to the action in which it is involved" (63) and "a material
construction is a potential reference point in a way in which a space
is not" (45). In general he argues that the chorus is the center of the
play: "the choros is the addressee of the characters almost constantly"
(17) and "the playing space is defined . . . by the presence of the
choros within it" (18). He acknowleges that in Oresteia Aeschylus
introduces innovations, such as a third actor and perhaps the
ekkuklema, but insists that "continuity is what matters" (25) since the
playwright "is demonstrably more interested in playing with the new
resource in its effects on the playing space than in substantially
changing the theatricality for which he composes" (33).

For readers who know these plays intimately, the first chapter will be
the most important part of the book, and it is indeed very valuable.
Oresteia receives the most attention and there are many thoughtful
comments, such as those on how the opening of Eumenides might have been
staged; the discussion of vehicles and of Oedipus at Colonus are also
excellent. Other plays receive only a page or two. This chapter,
however, is likely to be inaccessible to anyone except specialists. The
text contains almost no quotations at all, though line numbers are
cited; Ley admits he is thinking of a "reader with a script in hand"
(182). Another difficulty for nonspecialist readers is that Ley rarely
offers an interpretation of the meaning and effect of the blocking he
proposes. The few times he does make me wish for more. For example, at
the end of his analysis of Andromache's scene in Trojan Women, which he
calls "extraordinarily powerful," he argues that Andromache descends
from the vehicle in which she is brought in to sing and dance with her
mother even though there is no mention of a descent in the text. He
comments that "the lack of reference to a descent can be explained by
the lack of its ultimate significance: it is, brutally, no more than a
moment in her passing on to slavery, deprived of all she ever had"
(82). Pointing out that Prometheus uses anapaests, which imply
movement, he suggests that composing anapaests "for an actor/character
who has been violently placed in a position in which he cannot move may
be an impressive, performative effect" (86). Had Ley offered more such
interpretations, this chapter would have been greatly enriched.

Whereas many other commentators focus on dramaturgical novelty,
especially in the case of Euripides, Ley focuses on continuity
throughout his discussions of Sophocles and Euripides. "The way the
playing space was defined and exploited until the Oresteia was
completely acceptable to one if not two generations of composers and
spectators" (45). "Close analysis of these scenes and sequences from
the tragedies after Aeschylus confirms the continuity of composition
for the full ground of the playing space" (111).

Ley's discussion of blocking is illustrated by ten diagrams, as well as
three drawings, which I find out of scale. Though the diagrams are
useful, they are still inadequate, and their inadequacy marks what
seems to me a tremendous problem for scholars working in performance
studies: the use of the two-dimensional print medium to discuss a
phenomenon which exists in four dimensions. An electronic medium which
permits moving images would be far more efficient and effective in
conveying Ley's analysis, and he acknowledges as much: "the "full
extent [of movement] . . . is something that silent and static diagrams
and drawings cannot do" (204). It is past time for performance studies
scholars to develop a medium which can more effectively communicate the
full range of our ideas.

The second chapter offers an extended discussion of non-dramatic choroi
and a brief one of dramatic choroi  (including, despite the book's
title, satyr play and comedy, as well as tragedy). Arguing that because
of its pitch accent ancient Greek is "already musical," Ley stresses
the prominence of music in Greek culture, "understood throughout Greek
antiquity as an emphatic and delightful manifestation of the rhythms of
words or physical movement" and doubts "whether any purely spoken
poetry existed in the archaic and classical periods" (134). He argues
for the close collocation of music and dance, suggesting that molpe may
mean both song and dance, pointing out that in Theogony the Muses both
dance and sing (121) and arguing that there is no reason to assume that
choroi of singers in the Homeric hymns did not dance (123). Noting the
absence of written notation, he argues that songs were composed and
transmitted orally and aurally, and that the Athenian dramatic choroi
were taught by ear (135). He stresses the importance of commissions
"from a community or those who were accepted as representing it" (128)
and thinks "when the compositions are for choroi they are undoubtedly
commissions" 129, but he does not consider the politics of song which
has been so effectively discussed by Kurke and others. At the end of
the chapter he returns to the dithyramb and calls it "the defining
choros of the democracy . . . [which] represented the new tribal
structure of Athens . . . authentically Dionysian . . .  [with] a
history stretching back before tragedy" (173).

In the very brief Conclusion, Ley characterizes his book as "a review
of different kinds of evidence" (206). The bibliography is extensive,
but not excessive. In the second chapter especially he offers
thoughtful and effective evaluations of other scholars' views about
ancient Greek music and dance, including scholars both well-known, such
as Calame, Scott, Webster, and Wiles, and lesser-known (at least to
me), such as Lillian Lawler and Germaine Prudhommeau. These discussions
bring up important general points, such as the late and questionable
sources on the "reversal" of choreography (172), and the problem pitch
accent offers to the question of strophe/antistrophe structure
("responsion"): getting "the accentual inflections in the words
corresponding consistently is a matter of extreme difficulty" (169). He
concludes the chapter with an overview of the role of the chorus in
satyr play, comedy, and tragedy. Here again he seeks general
answers--comic choruses involve themselves in aggression, tragic
choruses don't--while acknowledging the difficulty of finding such
answers: "no interesting descriptive statement . . . will apply without
exception to all eleven of Aristophanes' surviving comedies" (189).

This is an important and useful book. It raises important questions,
such as "How would a combination of movement and gesture (cheironomia)
of the indicative or semiotic kind be set in reverse, rather than
simply repeated? What exactly is the relation between movement and
gesture in Greek dance? Is there any distinction to be made between
combined movement and gesture in Greek terms and our own modern sense
of choreographic design?" (172-3). Its focus, however, is willfully,
almost perversely narrow. Ley avoids or barely mentions important
aspects of theatricality such as performers, costume, ritual, politics,
and audience (the drawings show an empty theatron!). Perhaps he chose
to do so because he discusses some of these in his introduction to
Greek theater,[[1]] but such a narrow focus limits the value of this
study. This narrowness is especially unfortunate given the author's
broad knowledge of drama beyond that of ancient Greece; he has
published two books on theater theory.[[2]]

Ley acknowledges our desire to experience the theatricality he evokes
("the sound we want to hear" [144]; tragic composition is "an art that
aims to realize exciting opportunities for singing and dancing" [203]
and "what we need . . . is an aesthetic sense of movement" [205]). He
hopes "that readers might feel able to draw their own conclusions . . .
, to disagree with mine, or feel encouraged to pursue their own
researches or practical explorations" (206).  Yet he focuses
relentlessly on limitations, uncertainty, lack: "the sad fact is that
we know very little of the music for tragedy" (147); "All of the
approaches face great difficulties, and it may not be possible to
extract much from them that encourages confidence" (205). Of course the
limitations on the ancient evidence are dismaying, but Ley disavows
several ways to enhance his readers' understanding. Only rarely does he
interpret what evidence there is; he rejects considering theatrical
traditions such as No and Kathakali which have certain analogies to
Greek drama; and there is not one reference to how later productions
stage the dramas he discusses, not even productions such as Ewans',
which are consciously trying to do research into ancient performance
conditions through practice. David Wiles' book, which makes use of all
three of these approaches, offers a far broader and more engaging
discussion of the theatricality of ancient Greek drama.[[3]]

Finally, I believe that Ley's insistence that "the theatricality of
Greek tragedy deserves to be appreciated on its own terms" (206) is
wrongheaded both theoretically and practically. There is no way a
twenty-first century person--no matter how learned, no matter how
earnestly trying to be "objective"--can understand a phenomenon from an
earlier time "on its own terms." In an important passage illustrated by
examples from the ancient Mediterranean world, Fredric Jameson argues
that our understanding of history is always dialectic, oscillating
between Identity and Difference: "If we choose to affirm the Identity
of the alien object with ourselves--if we decide that it is more or
less directly or intuitively accessible to us--then we have presupposed
what was to have been demonstrated, and our apparent 'comprehension' of
these alien texts must be haunted by the nagging suspicion that we have
all the while remained locked in our own present. . . . Yet if we
decide to reverse this initial stance, and to affirm the radical
Difference of the alien object from ourselves, then at once the doors
of comprehension begin to swing closed and we find ourselves separated
from the whole density of our own culture from objects of cultures thus
initially defined as Other from ourselves and thus as irremediably
inaccessible."[[4]] Therefore we cannot, he believes, "conclude that a
'value-free' and henceforth 'scientific' historiography is capable of
freeing us from the binary opposition of Identity and Difference, and
of piercing such ideological representations in order to replace them
with an 'objective' account of the realities of the ancient world.
Perhaps, on the contrary, we need to take into account the possibility
that our contact with the past will always pass through the imaginary
and through its ideologies." In insisting on the absolute Difference of
Athenian tragedy in performance Ley has rendered it inaccessible to the
great majority of readers.


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Notes:


1.   Graham Ley, A Short Introduction to Ancient Greek Theater, revised
edition, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007.

2.   Graham Ley, From Mimesis to Interculturalism: Readings of
Theatrical Theory Before and after 'Modernism', Exeter: University of
Exeter Press, 1999; Jane Milling and Graham Ley, Modern Theories of
Performance, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave, 2001.

3.   David Wiles, Greek Theatre Performance: an Introduction.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

4.   Fredric Jameson,  "Marxism and Historicism," The Ideologies of
Theory, vol. 2 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988):
148-77.