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The Misanthrope
Moliere  (Jean Baptiste Poquelin)

    Alceste, the central character of Moliere's celebrated comedy The Misanthrope, is a man with a problem: he is not willing to compromise his standards of truth and honesty. In the world of the 17th century French court which Alceste inhabits, appearances are what matter most. Early in the play he declares, "We are living on the brink of total falsehood" and proceeds to excoriate the courtiers who pursue the woman he loves. Thus he brings trouble upon himself and loses his love as well.
    The excellent essays provided in American Conservatory Theater's program booklet recall the circumstances surrounding the first performance of the play in 1666. Moliere, then 44, took the role of Alceste and his younger (by some 20 years) wife took the role of Celimene, the woman pursued by Alceste. Because Moliere was a celebrity and was known to be having marital troubles, there was lively gossip that the play was really about Moliere's own marital relations. It is more likely that Moliere, who usually wrote about the new, rising bourgeoisie, chose to make his central character a dogmatic and unlikable courtier in order to ridicule the decadent ways of the court without seeming to do so.
    It is difficult to imagine the obstacles faced by a writer in the mid-seventeenth century. The scrutiny of the church as well as civil authorities forced writers into self-imposed censorship if they wanted to see their work produced. Moliere chose to walk a tightrope, pressing the boundaries of what was deemed proper and acceptable, taking risks throughout his career. He was the director of his own troupe, which he helped found in 1643 at age 21. It gained royal favor and became known as "the King's players" even before it received the official patronage of King Louis XIV in 1665. Moliere's company was to become the national theatre of France, the Comedie Française, that continues to play in a theatre referred to as "the house of Moliere" in the Palais Royal complex in Paris as it has since it first appeared there in 1662.
    Rather than treat mythical subjects, as was the custom of the time, Moliere usually selected the emerging bourgeoisie  as his targets, thus largely avoiding official wrath because the aristocracy could laugh safely at the ambitions of people beneath them. The year before writing The Misanthrope, however, he came to grief with one of his greatest creations, Tartuffe. The church objected to the central character, a pious hypocrite, and succeeded in keeping the play from being performed for five years despite Moliere's constant lobbying in royal circles. Although scandal surrounded some of his trenchant comedies, The Misanthrope was largely well received when it was first produced and was, even then, regarded as a masterpiece. It is ironic that his satire of courtiers was accepted and attests to his skill as a writer.
    Nearly 350 years after his creative genius flourished, Moliere remains France's greatest playwright, having set the standard for writing comedy, a standard that remains unrivalled today. He understood the complexity of human nature and was able to satirize types of people without reducing them to one-dimensional targets. Despite the passage of time and changes of fashion, the characters he invented are still recognizable. We know these people and can respond to Moliere's treatment of them. His best creations transcend time--their names may sound funny and some of their circumstances may seem foreign or contrived, but when a pompous ass gets his comeuppance we all laugh heartily in appreciation.
    Carey Perloff, ACT's artistic director, has directed this production with style. The new version she has used (by Constance Congdon, working from a translation by Virginia Scott) is excellent, retaining a rhymed couplet scheme that avoids an artificial sound. Designer Beaver Bauer has used vivid colors to clothe the courtiers, while the sleek scenic design of Kate Edmunds and the effective lighting of Rui Rita keep the focus on the actors.
    The courtiers, like their colorful costumes, are lively and relish the big gesture. No wonder the audience enjoys their antics. The insidious Arsinoe, so understated in her pearl grey gown (the only courtier wearing muted tones--perhaps implying she is different in status from the rest), is malevolent duplicity personified in Kimberly King's effective performance. Her bitch fight with Celimene is a highlight. The cast is accomplished, overcoming the difficulty many American actors have with period comedy of manners. It takes skill to play effete characters without slipping into ludicrous exaggeration.
    The heart of the play (no pun intended) is more difficult to grasp. The challenge is to inject some soul into Alceste and Celimene so that the audience will care about them. In this, the production falls short. While it is entertaining, the tricky task of generating some real feeling for either of these conflicted lovers is not accomplished. Perloff has added a pantomime introduction that harkens back to Moliere's commedia dell'arte roots. It underscores the litigious nature of those times (so parallel to the present--just one of a number of surprisingly contemporary aspects of this play) but seems extraneous despite its reference to an aspect of the plot. The choice of music is also peculiar. Why Handel when there is so much French music of the period to use?
    This Misanthrope is a diverting evening of theater, but its aspirations to plumb the deeper aspects of the play have not been fully realized.

October 22, 2000                                                                         - Larry Campbell