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  October 25, 2008 - Cutler Majestic Theatre, Emerson College, Boston, MA. January 29, 2009 - University of North Denton, TX
"...Tartuffe is a joy...a cornucopia of physical gags and played to hilarious perfection." - The San Francisco Chronicle
Molière’s satiric masterpiece in the commedia dell’arte style. This daring adaptation blends mask, music, and slapstick into a spectacular theatrical feast. This classic tale of a devious religious fanatic who weasels his way into a wealthy family is full of intrigue, romance, and mistaken identities, forbidden love, and a host of over-the-top characters. Part farce, part political satire, and part musical, this boisterous and lavish comedy is a hit for audiences everywhere.  |  Tartuffe in Boston | The Boston Edge | Oct. 26, 2008 | If you got over to the Cutler Majestic Theatre Saturday night, October 25, for the Dell’Arte Company’s rendition of Tartuffe, then you one the lucky ones who can tell everyone else all about it.
In the version taken on tour by the California-based Dell’Arte Company, Moliere’s 1664 masterpiece--still biting, still timely, and still a little dangerous after nearly three and a half centuries--is trimmed down to its essentials, and tarted up with topical references that glaze the Louis XIV period setting with a tart crispness.
Tartuffe (Dell’Arte’s producing artistic director Michael Fields) is a religious sham who dictates morality to others while reserving appetite for himself. So completely has Tartuffe enchanted French nobleman Orgon (Adrian C. Mejia) that the old man is ready to surrender home, hearth, and wealth to him; even all of that is not enough, as Orgon prepares to offer Tartuffe the hand of his daughter, Mariane (Jacqueline Dandeneau), to the religious hypocrite, breaking off Mariane’s engagement to the fussy Valere (David Ferney) in the process.
But Tartuffe has another prize in mind: he sets about attempting to seduce Orgon’s wife, Elmire (Deborah Taylor Barrera), a shocking liberty that still is not sufficient to dislodge Tartuffe from the family’s dwelling, or from Orgon’s affections, simply because Orgon does not believe that it happened.
In order to convince her husband of Tartuffe’s malevolent intentions, Elmire is forced to set in motion a new attempt at seduction, while her husband watches from under a table, leading to a hilarious roundelay of physical comedy that crowns an hour and a half of non-stop, often fairly acrobatic, fun.
The cast get a workout here in a succession of impressively executed choreographies that make the Three Stooges look like doddering amateurs. Adrian C. Mejia does double duty as both Orgon and the liveried monkey servant of Madame Pernell (Barbara Geary), Orgon’s mother, who is just a much in thrall to Tartuffe as her son. In the role of Flipotte, the monkey, Mejia rolls, leaps, tumbles, and chitters, giving his simian character a balletic grace; that same dancing style characterizes Orgon’s stumbling and wheezing exertions as the old man attempts to whip the family in line with a few strokes of his cane.
One target of Orgon’s wrath is Dorine, Mariane’s maid, who cracks wise and shows herself to be wiser than her high-born employers; the only one who might get Orgon to listen to reason is his brother-in-law, Cleante (Andrew Phoenix). After all, if you won’t listen to the guy with whom you burst into renditions of U2 songs, to whom are you going to listen?
Unfortunately, in this case, the answer to that is Tartuffe, who, as Dorine notes with disdain and despair, is a past master at a nasty brand of fake and rancid piety: "How well he knows the trick of cloaking himself with what we most revere," she cries.
The Jesuits put the kibosh on the play when it was first premiered, but Moliere could not be stopped; as Fields explained during the post-play talk-back, the playwright and his troupe read the play aloud in fashionable salons of the day.
If the politics and the religious culture of 17th century France were corrupt enough to warrant a play this sharp and satirical, how much more telling that in today’s climate the centuries-old play seems written for our times. In part, it was: this version is not quite the original, being half as long and retrofitted with gags that skewer everything from the Iraq war to the financial meltdown to Sarah Palin.
Watching the blend of past and present, Italian commedia (with lots of half-masks), and classic French theater (everyone is in white face with elaborate wigs, showers of lace, and spots of red on their cheeks; and that’s just the men), one finds another French farce comes to mind--namely, Les Liaisons dangereuses, or at least the 1988 Stephen Frears film version, Dangerous Liaisons, based on the 1782 novel by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos. "The only thing that might surprise one about all of this," sighs the aunt of main character and louche lady-killer the Vicomte de Valmont, "is how little things change."
Happily, that includes the ability to laugh at the very scoundrels who make life difficult by selling out virtue and dressing up vice.
Tartuffe played on Saturday, October 25, at The Cutler Majestic Theatre in Boston.
Kilian Melloy reviews media, conducts interviews, and writes commentary for EDGEBoston, where he also serves as Assistant Arts Editor.
| | Kilian Melloy - |
| | 'Tartuffe' creates a higher top to go over | Eureka Times-Standard | June 28, 2007 | Dell'Arte's production of “Tartuffe” at the Rooney Amphitheatre in Blue Lake is way over the top. You have to stand in awe. Many did at the curtain of Saturday night's performance. Others were standing to see whether their butts had unhinged as a result of the chilly evening and cold ground.
You'll remember that the Rooney Amphitheatre, even with a huge, elegant set, more nearly resembles a tiny, grassy knoll than, say, a Greek amphitheatre. Those in the know -- and most theater lovers are -- arrive for the 8 p.m. curtain bundled up and blanket bearing. They have seen enough “Thin Man” movies to know the value of a discreet pocket flask or a sip of wine at the intermission. Otherwise, after the sun goes down, you'll wish you were sitting on a jug of Prestone antifreeze.
Audiences have been loving “Tartuffe” for more than 300 years because this beautifully written comedy satirizes the hypocrisy, religious cant, arrogance, and warped close-mindedness. And wouldn't you know it? No matter how much sharp satire has been aimed at these human failings over the centuries, these ugly foibles still proliferate. In fact, we could well be living in the Golden Age of human hypocrisy.
The story, peopled with stereotypical characters -- as readily identifiable today as they were to 17th century audiences -- is simple.
When the scene opens, Orgon's mother, Madame Pernelle -- she of the large nose and snooty voice -- is berating the household for not embracing the seemingly righteous boarder, Tartuffe.
After all, old man Orgon has fallen under the spell of Tartuffe. He wants his daughter Mariane to marry Tartuffe rather than Valere, her true love. As various members of the household argue, we learn that Tartuffe's religious zeal may be dubious. He may be nothing more than a con man, a skilled, high-class wretch.
By the time Tartuffe enters we feel like we know him. Damis, Orgon's son (who wants to marry Mariane's sister) hides and overhears Tartuffe making suggestive remarks to Orgon's wife, the eminently seductive but level-headed Elmire. (Tartuffe's spurious rationale for a reverent man's seduction of a married woman seems politically familiar.)
When confronted, Tartuffe chooses a disarming tact. In pious tones, he confesses to everything and says he should be tossed out of the house. Orgon is taken in by this bogus confession and to the surprise and not to mention disappointment of Damis and everyone else, Orgon bequeaths everything he has to Tartuffe.
To set things straight and return rational thought to the household, Dorine and Elmire plot to entrap Tartuffe and reveal his hypocrisy as the play moves toward the inevitable happy ending.
Moliere's “Tartuffe” is a grand match for DellArte's commedia mindset. Theirs is an attitude that brings extraordinary versatility to the stage by trusting their musical skills -- both vocal and instrumental -- to set and change tone. The splashy opening feels like a hodgepodge of Las Vegas Lounge and The Red Radish, just perfect for something a “little risqué, a little romancy.”
The music is crazily eclectic: from Juan Luis Guerra to Los Van Van to Buster Poindexter to Leonard Cohen with Mozart and the Buena Vista Social Club thrown in and with some ironic, trenchant, trashy, hip and hilarious alternate lyrics by Tim Randles. Barbara Geary has just the pipes for both Mme. Pernelle and “Hot,Hot,Hot!”
What emotion might be communicated in ordinary theater by facial expression is covered by Bruce Marrs' insightful masks fixed in a single emotion. But each character (especially Michael field's Tartuffe and Adrian Mejia's Orgon) combines the mask with physical gesture and posture to find fresh expression. Wonderful! Some might say all the physicality slows the show, but the added energy and inventiveness constantly renews intrigue and enriches the emotional perspective. When David Ferney's character Valere comes foppishly mincing in with his arms upraised as if there's either a gun at his back or he's saying “Hold everything! I'm here! And I think I'm important!” It's the perfect choice of physical business.
Nobody is more physically adept, engagingly comic than Mejia. His Orgon is a stooped, spindly spider, a demented insect, tiny, but all legs, who moves here and there with aging caution leg by leg and in sudden bursts skitters across the stage.
The Dell'Arte imprint of imagination, invention and intimacy is in countless little and larger bits: the synchronized chairs, the sudden tumbling, the beautifully conceived and timed playback sound scene, the (in)famous table scene, the bouncy appearance of Corona the chimp and then, later, as if to top that, a tiny Corinna pops in (or is it Corinna and then Corona?) The cast interacts with the band, with the audience and each other.
Sudden sneaky references like Ralph Kramden, or Gandhi, Mother Theresa and Bono, together again, or “I need to go lie down and re-align my chakras.”) pull us into the here and now. And it's easy to spot Bush and his bunch's shadow lurking through the centuries.
Dell'Arte's production, directed by Giulio Cesare Perrone, decides to everywhere and anywhere, for the joke or the poignancy, go for the flamboyant. From the weirdly tweaked costumes and wigs to the extravagant encore it's all serious fun. It's Dell'Arte. Bring a blanket. The show's run ends Sunday.
Barry Blake bakes cookies, and likes a good avocado. Contact him at northernlights@times-standard.com | | Barry Blake - |
| | Commedia heavy weight for 'Tartuffe' | San Francisco Chronicle | Nov. 17, 2006 | Tartuffe doesn't show up often enough in "Tartuffe." That's the way Molière wrote his immortal comedy about religious hypocrisy, gullibility and greed. But it isn't usually as big a problem as it is in the Dell'Arte Company's "Tartuffe" that opened Wednesday at Marin Theatre Company.
That's partly because Kevin Michael Fields' Tartuffe raises the comedy and connection with the audience so much when his sanctimonious reprobate finally appears after the intermission. But it's also a result of director, adapter and designer Giulio Cesare Perrone's attempt to combine Molière's play with the older commedia dell'arte techniques that inspired so much of his work. The result plays more like an illustrated dissertation than a comedy.
It's often quite funny. It's Molière writing at the top of his form, after all, and commedia is a wellspring of artful physical comedy. But, though the three decades-old Dell'Arte runs the nation's leading physical theater school -- at Blue Lake in Humboldt County -- most of the commedia isn't effectively executed in this show. More to the point, it blends with "Tartuffe" as well as oil and water.
Perrone creates brightly conceived stage pictures that promise more comic punch than they contain. His mock-17th century Parisian costumes are cleverly exaggerated concoctions of broad-hipped and bustled gowns, deep cleavage, lacy cuffs, ridiculous wigs and a silly monkey suit. His set is a lovely lampoon of wealth with high, gilt-trimmed, pale-purple walls looking as if they'd been powdered like a court lady.
"Tartuffe" opens with a party, glimpsed through a hazy scrim as a maiden pokes her head through it to partake in the serenade of her suitor, in a moderately droll "Cyrano de Bergerac" lampoon. The party is a melange of dance, slapstick and stilt-walking antics -- to sound designer Tim Gray's mix of French baroque, Italian opera and modern salsa melodies -- but the physical gags don't build or cohere to any obvious purpose.
The house is the mansion of Orgon (Adrian C. Mejia), a rich man who, having passed his lustier younger years, has turned hyper-religious, falling under the sway of the strategically sanctified con man Tartuffe. As the play opens, Orgon's exceptionally self-righteous mother (Barbara Geary) is berating his family for its looseness and refusal to acknowledge Tartuffe's superior morals.
Elmire (Deborah Taylor-Barrera), Tartuffe's younger wife, knows a hypocrite when she sees one -- especially one who's been making passes at her. She, Cleante (Dimiter D. Marinov), her brother, and the feisty maid Dorine (Keight Gleason) are the chief voices of sanity in the household, as Orgon's Tartuffe-besotted tyranny threatens, first, the marital futures of his son Damis (Matthew Graham Smith), daughter Mariane (Jacqueline Dandeneau) and her foppish fiance, Valere (David Ferney) -- then his entire fortune (Tartuffe thinks big).
Perrone reduces every character to its commedia prototype, played for broad effect in white-face or classically comic masks (by Bruce Marrs). The idea sounds better than it works. Though the actors offer textbook examples of basic commedia caricatures and bits of business, Perrone's slow, deliberate pacing undermines the gags. The exaggerated, stylized deliveries smother the sharp comedy of his stripped-down adaptation and even his interpolated pokes at sanctimonious hypocrisy in the White House.
More damaging is the portrayal of Orgon as a stock commedia Pantalone, the standard lecherous and/or avaricious old fool. Mejia plays the stooped, doddering, tongue-lolling prototype very well. But the middle-aged, duped, would-be holy Orgon is no Pantalone. The humorous tension of his delusion gets lost. His only really funny scene is his disillusion, staged by Perrone as a cornucopia of physical gags and played to hilarious perfection by Mejia, Taylor-Barrera and Fields.
The endlessly opportunistic Tartuffe is in many ways the most commedia-like character in the play. Fields, Dell'Arte's co-founder and producing artistic director, is a past master of the form, playing each gag with gestural precision, expert timing and resonant vocal versatility. When he's onstage, "Tartuffe" is a joy. But that isn't often enough.
E-mail Robert Hurwitt at rhurwitt@sfchronicle.com.
| | Robert Hurwitt - |
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