Pleased to meet me

Molière’s tale of polite politics buoys PSC’s efforts to stay afloat

By Katherine Joyce

The Misanthrope shows at Portland Stage Company through Oct. 21. Call (207) 774-0465.

GLOBAL WARMING: Jennifer Curtis, Kevin P. Brown, Ellen Emerson, Tony Correia, and Susan Beem charm your pants off.

Imagine a world of gossip, intrigue, scandal and sycophancy; a place where every move you make is watched and judged, and the smallest indiscretion could end your entire political and social life. Imagine spending entire days entertaining an endless stream of visitors to your home, spending entire fortunes on extensive wardrobes of exquisite clothing, and spending all your energies on effusively flattering those whom, the moment they depart, you are quick to defame and scandalize.” Portland Stage Company uses these words to describe social life in the court of King Louis XIV; it is in this world of false flattery and cruel gossip that Molière’s Misanthrope is set.

Young Alceste despises the insincerity he finds in the court of Louis XIV. He is enraged by the hypocrisy around him. In spite of the guidance of his congenial friend Philinte, Alceste feels morally bound to be truthful to those he meets in society, in spite of the ramifications. Alceste’s longing for frankness is only subverted by his passionate love for gossip-monger Célimène. Unfortunately, he is not her only suitor, and she appears to enjoy stringing along poor Alceste, and all the rest of them. Then there’s the fact that Célimène’s cousin Éliante admires and loves Alceste, and Philinte adores Éliante. Did you follow that?

All of this in a world where no one says what he means, or means what he says. The characters are constantly readjusting their positions based on the actions of the others, and, more often than not, create tangled webs of witty discourse to obscure their true feelings about one another. It is not hard to see how young Alceste could become frustrated with such carrying on, and begin to proclaim the moral necessity of frankness. Alceste is the misanthrope: one who hates humankind.

Entitling the play Misanthrope has turned out to be a wonderful irony, considering that humankind seems to love Molière’s Misanthrope. According to Portland Stage Company’s artistic director Anita Stewart, Misanthrope is exactly what Portland audiences want to see. When she put a number of classics to consider for this season on the table, it was Molière’s masterpiece that met with the most enthusiasm.

It is, perhaps, the subject matter that attracts the attention of audiences. Set in the court of Louis XIV, famous for his efforts to control the social life of his subjects, the play examines the politics of being polite. There is posturing, flattery, insults flung through polite smiles, insults accepted through pretty teeth, and excessive vanity from all corners. As Stewart notes, it is not at all dissimilar from the political world of America (think the last election). And, of course, it is funny. This battle of words and wit has made audiences laugh (sometimes at themselves) since Molière himself played the role of Alceste in 1666.

Such refined taste is not uncommon for Portland audiences, according to Stewart. When asked how the Portland Stage Company’s constant financial troubles have affected her ability to choose a good mix of interesting plays and crowd-pleasers, she replies confidently that, in Portland, those two categories are generally one and the same.

Lucky for PSC, whose reputation is staked on the quality of both the production and the scripts they choose. Using this reputation, PSC is constantly trying to attract audiences without compromising its artistic vision; the budget is a thorn in the company’s side as they frequently must redouble efforts to stay on their feet. When former executive director Joel Thayer was asked why he left earlier this summer, he replied that he didn’t think PSC would be around in six months.

Stewart’s response to such an inflammatory statement? “People have been saying that ever since I got here, five years ago.” Theaters are often forced to operate hand to mouth, as producing theater is expensive and labor-intensive. The best way to ensure that her job will be around in six months is to balance budgetary constraints and meet the demand for high-quality theater in the community as well as humanly possible.

That job is not an easy one. It is difficult to predict the reaction of audiences. For example, the most commercial show that PSC has ever produced was last season’s Compleat Wrks of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged). It did well, as was expected, but Gaslight — an exploration of the 19th-century criminal mind, hardly a knee-slapper like Complete Wrks — did much better. In fact, last season’s Gaslight was PSC’s largest selling show ever, says Stewart.

And in Maine, a stiff snowstorm can always keep away the throngs.

Nonetheless, PSC takes every precaution to ensure the quality of its productions. In this case, Stewart took great pains choosing which translation to use. The significant inconsistencies in the translations peaked her interest in what Molière had actually written. She arranged for a literal translation by John Stewart, and was pleased to discover rich language that had been obscured in other versions by attempts to maintain the form of the rhyming couplet. This translation does not use rhyming couplets, and flows smoothly in English. The language is richly descriptive and full of sharp wit, giving the actors a dense text into which they sink their teeth.

The audience enters to a fabulous vision. On a black stage, a wide gray floor rises at an angle. It begins at the edge of the outcropping, and recedes in perspective — growing narrow towards a tall, narrow door: a point in the distance.

A woman is on stage. Behind a transparent screen, she applies makeup while admiring herself in the mirror. The dust from her powder rises above her head in a plume, lit brightly by harsh white lights. Above her is a chandelier, covered in gauze, and to her right is a chair, also draped in gauze. She is dressed in whites and creams, and is clearly enchanted with the effect. She disappears before the house lights go down.

With a burst of energy, Alceste and Philinte enter. Alceste, played by Quentin Maré, is a bundle of nervous energy. Maré’s portrayal of Alceste is raw and technically imprecise. His hands are constantly fidgeting, his walk is defiant and mocking. This is a perfect portrayal of Alceste: the enormity of his energy leaves him totally unable to perform the physical tableaux and posturing required by polite society.

His anger, however, is made comic and insincere by his impetuous delivery. He steals his own thunder by using pouts and whines to telegraph the comic nature of his own hypocrisy, rather than letting the audience independently appreciate the comedy that exists when his hypocrisy is played in earnest. Maré’s most compelling moments are in the second act, when he reduces his high drama to a clear and focused conviction of Alceste’s righteousness. If that texture had been added to the first act, Alceste’s dramatic nature would have been more natural, and the comedy would have revealed itself more clearly through the language and observations of other characters, rather than having Maré consistently reveal the ridiculousness of Alceste’s behavior for us. Nonetheless, Maré’s performance is interesting and funny, and his second act performance is, at times, superb.

Oronte, played by JD Merritt, arrives to gives us a taste of the very behavior Alceste detests. He enters with great flourish and flounce, fully enjoying the peacock-like prancing and posturing required of him by society. He is all flattery and fuss, and Merritt’s performance is outrageously funny. The perfectly performed huffing and puffing clarifies the source of Alceste’s frustration and lets the audience see for itself why one might feel misanthropic in such a society.

Oronte, Alceste, and two insanely comic Marquises comprise the bevy of suitors clamoring for Célimène’s love. When I say insanely comic, I do mean it. Matthew Coyle plays the “small” Marquis with a ridiculous flamboyant flair so common to the time period. His high-pitched giggle, and sensuous enthusiasm are an absolute riot. In the complementary role of the “tall” Marquis, James Noel Hoban is more understated than his counterpart. Hoban and Coyle make a fabulous team, raising the dramatic stakes, and providing truly hilarious comic relief.

They make great efforts to charm young Célimène, played by Ashley West. She enjoys a good laugh with them (who wouldn’t), but never suggests that a choice between her many suitors is imminent (although Alceste would beg to differ). West plays Célimène with great spunk, but when onstage with Maré tends to match his impetuous and over-dramatic nature with her own. In contrast, when playing against Moira Driscoll (who plays a slightly older acquaintance), she matches Driscoll’s superb delivery and timing with her own.

In the most consistently excellent performance of the evening, Tim McGeever’s Philinte is executed with extraordinary control and precision. His physicality is absolutely dead-on, from his foot placement to how he holds his hands. His humor is sharp and crisp, just like his delivery of dialogue. The honesty and authenticity of his emotional presence make his the sympathetic and lovable character he was written to be.

The palette of the show is whites and creams with gray accents. All of the costumes, from the simple to the ornate are variations on white. The effect is quite pleasing, as it allows appreciation for ornamentation without distracting from the dialogue by being excessively ostentatious. The gray of the floor contrasts so brightly with the blackened areas of the stage that the world exists entirely in that one room. The only set flaw is the narrowness of the stage, forcing actors to upstage (yes, literally and figuratively) one another.

However, it is entirely possible that such an effect is intended to address the very issue the text considers.

Katherine Joyce can be reached at ingliskat@aol.com.