Baudy and hilarious period piece still holds true today
If Moliére were alive today, he'd be a prime-time headliner on Comedy Central. Though he wrote in the 17th Century, he is considered by many to be the comic master of modern drama. Seattle Shakespeare's current production of "The Miser" proves the point.
That's not to say that this play is exactly "The Miser" Moliere presented. Whereas Moliére produced satire that was barbed but subtle, Seattle Shakespeare offers us exuberant farce laced with buffoonery. Moliére sought the stylish laugh, this production goes for the guffaw. It uses a translation by David Chambers enriched with au courant references. With those tools, director Robert Currier has crafted a sidesplitting romp for modern audiences.
Traditionalists will find it a tad over the top and become irritated with its out-of-sync references such as the one to Marie Antoinette who wasn't even born at the time the play was written. And this production certainly doesn't have the power to influence social behavior, as did Moliére's cutting satire. But we moderns, who are used to in-your-face humor, will find much to like here.
Harpagon, the miser at the center of the story is a penny-pinching hoarder who is psychotically greedy. Acquisition of money is his raison d'être. (Get used to French. You'll hear a lot of familiar phrases in the play.) His only love is money, though he's capable of lecherous fantasies as long as they contribute to his bottom line.
As played by Todd Jefferson Moore, this Harpagon is as good at pratfalls as he is salivating over gold. He's as avaricious as a hedge fund manager and as grasping as Gollum. He can toss off asides like Bob Hope and orate like Cicero. Dressed in rags, his stringy grey-black hair falling below his shoulders, he's a lot of fun to watch but he's no one you'd want to associate with.
Pity, then, the poor son Cleante (Brian Claudio Smith) and daughter Elise (Jennifer Sue Johnson) he intends to use as collateral in his own brand of venture capital. Pity too the sweet young thing Marianne (Shanna Allman) he's arranged to marry for the monetary advantages that such an alliance could bring. Add the facts that Cleante also loves Marianne, and Elise's passions lie elsewhere than in the bed of the dowry-laden old geezer her father has selected for her. Stir it all together, add witty lines, double entendres and some cleverly executed physical comedy, and you have a good evening in the theatre.
Of the many hilarious scenes, my favorite is that between Harpagon and Frosine (Leslie Law). Frosine is a shady lady, a courtier of elegant dress and sexual innuendo. She's a scheming matchmaker who, with consummate skill, twists Harpagon round her little finger as she lays out scenarios to quell any doubts he might have about marrying the sweet Marianne.
"What if she thinks I'm too old?" he asks. Frosine responds that young men nauseate Marianne. With panache and confidence she tells him how frugal Marianne is, a woman who eats only crusts of bread, who wants no rings except ones made from the hairs of cats. She almost, but not quite, convinces him that the 12,000 francs he'll save by this woman's frugality will be equal to the 12,000-franc dowry he won't get. Frosine has, however, awakened his lechery and sealed the deal.
Law's Frosine struts around the stage with style. She is a wonder, a sly coquette, a confidant, an ally, a manipulator, a drama queen, a comic and most of all the consummate flatterer. She's got something for every mood and the wherewithal to deliver it.
The entire cast is solid. Jennifer Sue Johnson's Elise and Shanna Allan's Marianne are wonderful contrasts. Marianne's sweet innocence is a nice counterpart to Elise's feisty heat.
Brian Claudio Smith as Cleante, dressed in foppish finery, carries off his role with élan. Green knickers, red garters, red bows on his shoes and flouncey jacket don't quite make the man, but stick a bright orange wig à la Clarabelle the Clown on his head, and he's a vision. What's more, despite the outlandish gear, he's able to infuse the character with real emotion. Daniel Brockley as Valere, Elise's lover, moves from raw animal lust to obsequious servitude in a matter of minutes as he meets the demands of Elise and then Harpagon who mistakenly thinks Valere is his most loyal servant.
Kudos also to Darragh Kennan who, with adroit costuming by Deane Middleton, and his own body language and vocal scope transforms himself into three personifications of Jacques, the sly but vindictive man of all trades.
So it's hijinks in the miser's dilapidated homestead. Maybe not quite as Moliére would have it, but hijinks nonetheless, all centered on a rancid fool and his money.
"The Miser"
plays at the Center House Theatre in Seattle Center Thursdays through Sundays until April 6.
Tickets $20 -$34 can be ordered by calling 733-8222 or online at www.seattleshakespeare.org