For the greater part of October, Monday and Thursday afternoons see a cast of first-year King’s students spilling onto the quad and congregating around the library steps. Lacing up their Docs and dusting off their vintage coats, they are all here for one very important reason — the making of the KTS’s annual production of Classics in the Quad.

Naza Amyoony and Chloe Van Kessel, the fearless directors of this grand endeavour, have been working tirelessly to bring to life The Ill-Tempered Man — the very first of Menander’s plays to be put on at King’s. This performance will also, excitingly, be the first Classics in the Quad production to incorporate the ingenious technique of giving its actors microphones. This is a very big deal. If you have ever gone to one yourself, you will know that one of the biggest struggles of watching a Greek play on the King’s library steps is that you will invariably spend half your time trying to figure out what the hell these thespians are even saying. 

The play itself was chosen for its relevance to today’s audience. When the two directors, both classics majors, read this text written before 400 BCE for the first time, it seemed to spell out to them a striking commentary on what modernity has coined “the male loneliness epidemic”.

“It’s that online idea that … you don’t owe anyone anything and you can do it all yourself,” explains Van Kessel. “The show really has that idea of like, everyone wants a village but no one wants to be a villager.”

Beginning a show starring first-years right at the start of the school year, the co-directors say, means starting out with a cast more quiet and meek than what we’ll see on stage. 

“It’s very, very interesting to see them come out of their shells a little bit more,” Amyoony says, pride clear in her voice. 

“The best parameter that you’ve got a good cast and that you’ve been a good director is that … during breaks and stuff, they don’t just all go in their own corner and sit on their phone or work through the scripts,” Van Kessel says. “They’re talking to each other and they’re friends.” 

To watch the rehearsals of a play in its fledgling stages like this, stumbling and sketching out the edges of intentionality, is a voyeuristic endeavour — especially if, like me, you spend the majority of it lurking in the bushes with a camera like a creep. The cast, however, seem used to it. They are, after all, doing this in full view of any and everyone walking through the quad. There’s real courage to be found in making a fool of yourself in front of random passersby.

This rehearsal takes place on a cold day in mid-October, and the wind rustling through the open space of the quad makes it feel ten degrees colder than the forecast. But despite a quick break to don some heavier coats, the chill in the air doesn’t slow the cast or its directors down. Laughter carries across campus as they block scenes, the energy in the air tangible. 

It’s clear that despite the ostensive dignity of performing an Ancient Greek comedy, the cast and crew are not afraid to have fun with it all. 

“A lot of people who come to see ancient shows probably expect it to be kind of unrelatable and far away because it’s hundreds and hundreds of years old,” says Van Kessel. “[But] the most fun part about watching an ancient show is laughing at it and realizing that you’re laughing at something that’s hundreds of years old.”

She adds that while studying ancient texts people tend to “get lost in the sauce of it being poetry and verse.” 

“It’s like, no, this is funny. You can laugh,” says Van Kessel.

The Ill-Tempered Man is the most complete of Menander’s plays to survive to the present day. It tells the story of a misanthropic grump and his disapproval of his daughter’s suitor, as well as his eventual forced socialization. The main message of the comedy, Van Kessel tells me, is “don’t be an asshole.” 

“Don’t be mean,” Amyoony adds, regarding the message of the play. “Don’t hate on people’s whimsy.” She tacks on a comment about falling down a well that both directors chuckle at, clearly an inside joke that us outsiders won’t understand until watching the play in its entirety.

When asked what they most want the audience to take away from their production, Amyoony says it’s that “classics is not as serious as everyone thinks it is.”

Van Kessel adds that at King’s, where there tends to be “reverence for antiquated things,” it’s valuable to know that classics “doesn’t have to be all that scary and serious and this big academic endeavor. It can also be a piece of art to enjoy and laugh at.”

So don’t take it all so seriously. Ancient comedy is there for us to study, yes, but it’s also there for us to laugh about. As Van Kessel puts it, “we’ve found the same things funny for 2000 years.”

“It’s hilarious,” Amyoony says. “Ancient comedy is hilarious.”