School For Scandal
It's good to know that the religious right has always had it in for the bleeding hearts and the artists. Molière encountered a nasty little backlash when 'School For Wives' was first produced in 1662. Critics accused Molière of everything from debasing the sacrament of marriage to bad grammar. Either way, Molière was bent but not broken and he persevered; "School For Wives" came to be considered one of his finest works and the clamor soon died down.
Perhaps the notion of a middle aged man grooming an adolescent for marriage seemed the bounds of impropriety...and perhaps it still does. On its face, the idea is grotesque, yet comical. In other words, the perfect recipe for farce. 2nd Story's Ed Shea takes to the stage himself for this one, so the expectations are high. More Teeth returns to Warren to see if this cast has what it takes to live up to centuries of reputation. We hope to be duly offended...
November 20, 2010
We're told everything we need to know about 'School for Wives' in the first two minutes: Arnolphe, wealthy and privileged, has one bee in his bonnet: cuckoldry and how to avoid it. He's known for tearing into the menfolk in town for their weakness and inability to control their wives' dalliances. He is upbraided by the mildly pious Chrysalde not to be the first to cast stones lest he grow himself a pair of fine horns and be subject to an exponentially worse karmic backlash.
This is as scripted. Co-directors Ed Shea and Pat Hegnauer, however, have chosen to start with a furiously clever opening sequence in which the Punch and Judy servants Alain and Georgette (played with a wonderfully manic insouciance by Tom Roberts and Paula Faber, respectively) deliver the standard audience instructions in rhyming verse. In ghostly pancake and rouge, they serve as chorus and jester at once - servile yet rebellious. Today, Molière...yesterday, Shakespeare...it's all the same as long as they get paid. Following this brilliant prologue, we're greeted by the ethereally beautiful Agnes, chirping the achingly familiar melody of "Plaisir d'amour" from her balcony in the moonlight. It's a foregone conclusion before the play proper has even started that she can't help falling in love with love itself and Arnolphe's paranoia is to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The overwhelming success of 2nd Story's treatment is in not succumbing to incessant business and slapstick to either supplement the verse or mask an inability to embrace it. There is more than enough physicality, all of it perfectly choreographed, but never at the expense of the text. Molière has created enough business with the words alone. The job of this cast is to get out of the way of the script and let it work for them. Indeed, the first scene of interplay is part speechifying, part goading and while Rendueles Villalba's Chrysalde plays his twofold part somewhat on the simple side, Ed Shea's masterful turn as a Bronx-toned Chaplin carries the burden for the both of them. Shea spends the lion's share of two hours chewing on generous mouthfuls of couplets and spewing them back out as something else entirely. Contemporary, yet classic, his treatment of Arnolphe dives in and out of two worlds. He knows the rules well enough to be able to break them at will just long enough to call attention to the fact that we are listening to 17th Century poetry, not outtakes from the Bowery Boys. And we're only ever pulled into serious flights of fancy long enough for Shea to burst the bubble with an unscripted aside both profane and perfect.
As the ingénues of the piece, Gabby Sherba's Agnes and Jeff Church's Horace seem drawn to order. Church, in particular, displays a physical and verbal dexterity that belies his youth. Sherba, especially, sets us up to believe she may actually be as simple as her master would wish only to revolt when pushed past the breaking point, reducing Arnolphe into the quivering jellyfish he publicly excoriates. Worth mentioning also is William Oakes who burns fast and bright as the pedantic Notary, drawn into service long enough by Arnolphe to be annoyed to distraction as we delight in wondering which of the two is more oblivious of the other.
Trevor Elliot's utilitarian set showcases the revolving chain of events in literal fashion. The almost bleak, shadowy stonework spins and shifts to quickly take everyone either inside or out in the blink of an eye. There is a dark underbelly to all of this playful jesting and the set captures the undercurrent perfectly. While we laugh with Arnolphe just as often as we laugh at him, we're reminded of cruelty that he brushes aside as inconsequential - kicked cats, willful subjection of his dependents and deliberate withholding of education - all to serve his own ends or as effects of his temper. And it is testament to Molières crafting of his protagonist and Shea's forceful possession that we dare to pity Arnolphe from time to time. We nod in agreement with the cries of his victims, but cheer along with him whenever fate gives Arnolphe just enough rope to hang himself.
We are manipulated by the players and the play into uncomfortable laughter more often than we should be ok with. The twisted, seeming corpse of Horace is almost horrible (in a 'Family Guy' sort of way) yet we check our discomfort in knowing that it came as the result of a beating delivered via the wildly clever device of a strobe-lit Silent Movie pantomime (used to great effect throughout - the sound of old movie reels helping to trick the mind into seeing live action as grainy dual dimension). The perfectly imperfect costumes of Alain and Georgette along with their haunted visages keep us wondering what horrors they endure daily, yet partake of just as willingly. The doomed denizens of Castle Frank N Furter would seem natural extensions in the centuries to come.
It's tempting to respond to it all in verse, yet underneath the frivolity, is indeed some nasty business. It takes a rather dull sense of humor to be truly offended by any of Molières thinly veiled attacks on current sensibilities, but one look at a Waldorf school or an Amish community will remind us that there are those who hold steadfast to the belief that simplicity is still a high virtue.
And indeed it is, especially when the twisted and complex iniquities of mankind can be distilled into the purest, simplest form of all - laughter. Ed Shea and company have managed to take all of the complicated elements and make it seem so simple. But beware of who and what you're laughing at. It just may turn out to be you.
2nd Story Theatre presents 'The School for Wives' by Molière, translated by Richard Wilbur. November 12 - December 12, 2010. Thursdays at 7:00pm, Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00pm and Sundays at 3:00pm. 28 Market St., Warren, RI. Regular ticket price is $27. For tickets, visit the Box Office, call 401-247-4200 or email: boxoffice_2ndStoryTheatre.com . For more info, visit the website at www.2ndStoryTheatre.com . Restaurant and fully stocked bar on the first floor, so arrive early and stay late. Popcorn and beverages allowed into the theater during the show.
