L.'s discussion of satyr play is ambitious and wide-ranging. The book falls into three sections: (1) an interpretation of the poetics of satyr play, with much supplementary and explanatory material; (2) individual studies of the Cyclops and plays represented by extensive fragments; and (3) studies of typical motifs and themes. The book ends with an extensive and useful bibliography and an index locorum. There is no subject index.
The starting points for her interpretation of satyr play's poetics are, first, the constant juxtaposition of satyr plays with tragic trilogies, in the final position of what is assumed to be a unified tetralogy, and, second, what is for her their most essential characteristic, the presence of a chorus of satyrs and Silenus, in a form of drama defined by its place in a festival in honour of Dionysus. For L., satyr play has a symbiotic relationship with tragedy and is defined in large part by the chorus and Silenus, as they embody and enact the ethos of Dionysian ritual.
The premise that satyr plays were integral to their performative and compositional context is intriguing. For L., satyr play is another form of tragedy, sharing (to a large extent) the same production team, playwright, diction, etc., but with the constant presence of a Dionysian chorus, along with their father. Each satyr play was composed so as to be in a complementary tension with the preceding three tragedies; the poets set up a comic space for reflective play with tragedy's creative preoccupations. In particular, satyr play allowed tragedy to play with its tendency to forget or push to one side Dionysus and the Dionysian. Satyr play brings back this exclusion in parodic and comic form. In doing so, it re-enacts tragedy's exclusion of Dionysus and his worship from its festival context. More than this, because satyr play often brings this problem to our attention, what is excluded is, in effect, included; we feel a marked absence, even when, as often, the mythical content of satyr play is not overtly about Dionysus or Dionysian myth.
L. is most convincing, in fact, when she discusses the recurring plot pattern that involves the satyrs' separation from Dionysus, often as the servants of a new master and in an alien mythical context. They are diverted from their natures as his servants and choreutai. And we are reminded of this when the satyrs and other characters pronounce on their new and unnatural job descriptions or, more often, when the satyrs fail in those new roles. Similarly, she argues that we are made conscious often of the kind of dance and song they are not performing. Dionysus and the Dionysian ethos re-enter with the idea that the satyrs will be restored to their proper master and their original role as his chorus. The audience is thus reminded that the god, and all that flows from his rituals, cannot be shut out.
This interpretation is sophisticated and well-grounded. It also allows us to define a wider range of comic patterns in Greek drama; the trajectory of satyr play achieves a culturally specific celebratory effect. On the other hand, it has its limits. If each satyr play was integral to its tetralogy and was oriented in a self-consciously metapoetic direction, how might specific themes and concerns within a given trilogy be re-played in a comic mode? Because we have no extant tetralogies, only one tragic trilogy and only one complete satyr play, L.'s approach is very hard to develop further.
L.'s second premise, that the satyrs and Silenus enact and embody the ethos of Dionysian ritual, also has its limitations. Of course, she does not claim that her approach precludes other interpretations of the thematics and/or general function of satyr play. But, L. concentrates the reader's attention on what is for her the primary concern of satyr play, to reintegrate Dionysus into the dramatic action of the tragic stage. (Compare the summary of other views, pp. 93–8, especially her n. 3, with her own programmatic statement, p. 99.) In this first part of the book, the discussion is concerned primarily with her interpretation of metapoetic effects and particular, even if essential, aspects of the chorus and Silenus' characterisation. Consequently, some of the ‘play’ seems to been taken out of satyr play; the situational variety, the various ways in which satyrs enabled imaginative play with cultural norms – these features of satyr play seem to have slipped out of focus. (It is worth reading at the same time F. Lissarrague's discussion of satyrs in vase painting: La cité des satyres. Une anthropologie ludique [2013].) Inherent limitations of evidence compound this problem. Because so little is left, and some fragments are hard to contextualise in terms of plot and situation, it is easy to concentrate on textual evidence, particularly on details that survive in exiguous fragments or only in testimonia, that seems to fit within a general argumentative project. If more complete plays survived, thematic variety and differences in thematic emphasis would be more evident.
An argument like this, then, seems plausible as a genetic, historical explanation for plot patterns, but the poets must have developed the genre's range of themes over time. The nature of the tragic competition provided constant incentives for creative appropriation and experimentation. As Seidensticker implies, the Cyclops, our most important single piece of evidence, may be a result of just that kind of development; he argues that it is so sophisticated dramatically and intellectually that it should not be used as a reference point in reconstructing the plays of Euripides' predecessors (see R. Krumeich, N. Pechstein and B. Seidensticker, Das griechische Satyrspiel [1999], pp. 2–3 and 9–10).
L., however, sees the genre as shaped in essential ways by serial repetition, as a continuing series of satyr adventures attached to tragic trilogies. This in part results from, and is congruent with, the constant identity and characteristics of the chorus and Silenus as she defines them. She also argues that satyr play very often repeats the same mythic pattern. A powerful villain directs his aggression against a series of foreigners and travellers, and is then challenged and defeated by a hero, usually Heracles or Theseus. Satyr play is thus again defined by a metapoetic function. It comments on its tragic trilogy when it breaks off a series of tragic events, often murders (actual or intended), by bringing to an end an analogous series. In effect, this is a gesture of superiority and again implies, by a different means, the reassertion of the Dionysian and its ethos.
The second section is introduced with the premise that interpretations of the Cyclops and four plays represented by extensive fragments (Dictyulci, Isthmiastae, Ichneutae and Inachus) will be used to ground L.'s arguments about the genre's poetics. The discussion of each section, however, covers transmission, myth, locale, plot and characters, before moving on to commentary. And the commentary, at times, as in the bulk of the discussion of the Cyclops, seems to be meant to follow out additional, interpretative arguments. In the final section, the listing of motifs and themes is meant to be comprehensive, but L. discusses only those themes that allow her to develop further some of her own ideas, or to discuss bits of evidence for plays that have not been treated earlier in the book. As in the rest of the book, these sections show impressive command of the secondary literature and an intimate knowledge of the primary evidence, but they can have the feel of a handbook or a somewhat diffuse compendium of contributions to current scholarship.
