Reviews 2000
Reviews 2000
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by Pierre Carlet de Marivaux, translated and directed by John Van Burek
Pleiades Theatre, Artword Theatre, Toronto
May 5-28, 2000
“A Fine Introduction to Marivaux”
Toronto is especially lucky this year to be able to see works by all of the so-called “three M’s” of French comedy: Molière, Marivaux and Musset. The Théâtre français de Toronto gave us two plays by Musset last month, and the Soulpepper Theatre Company will be bringing us Molière’s “School for Wives” later this summer. This month Pleiades Theatre brings us the 18th-century playwright Marivaux’s most famous play, “The Game of Love and Chance” (“Le Jeu de l’amour et du hasard”) of 1730 in a new translation by John Van Burek, directed by the translator.
Marivaux has come into vogue in France and the rest of Europe only in the last several years. The mystery is why it has taken us so long to understand what these wonderfully subtle plays are about. While Molière usually presents us with a monomaniac of some kind--be it a miser, a misanthrope, a hypocrite--whose whims work confusion on people from the outside, Marivaux places his conflict within his characters--between what they think and what they feel, between head and heart. Marivaux is, thus, one of the first writers of a purely psychological comedy where the humour derives from the dilemmas caused by the characters’ own patterns of thinking.
John Van Burek’s new translation is a delight, encompassing both the formality required for the upper class characters and the incipient lewdness of those in the lower class. It abounds in numerous laugh-out-loud turns of phrase, particularly from the mouth of the valet Harlequin as he strives hopelessly to express himself in a higher style. Andjelija Djuric has provided a set and costumes as at odds with each other as reason and passion are within the characters. The background set seven openings and six stylized box trees are all in white as is the backdrop behind them leading one to think this might be a modern-dress production. But on come the actors in vivid, beautifully detailed 18th-century attire, much as one might expect at an Opera Atelier production. (Indeed, the choreographer, Luciana Calvet, is a member of that group.) Given this contrast, Paul Mathiesen’s lighting plays a crucial role in harmonizing the costumes with the white set, often using patterns of swirls or starbursts to great effect.
Marivaux’s ingenious plot concerns Silvia (Amy Price-Francis), who has been betrothed to the son of the best friend of her father (Oliver Dennis), a man neither has ever seen. Her father, unlike the fathers of so much classical comedy, wants his daughter to marry the boy only if she feels she can love him. To that end she decides to trade places with her maid Lisette (Colombe Demers), the better to observe her betrothed objectively. Unbeknownst to the two women, the father knows that his friend’s son Dorante (Graeme Somerville) and his valet Harlequin (Alex Poch-Goldin), have decided to switch places for exactly the same reason. Any possibility of objective observation is thus destroyed since none of the four is really who he or she claims to be. Only emotion, not reason, will be able to sort out which pair belongs together. For the servants masquerading as their betters, each thinks the beginnings of love will lead to a higher station. For the higher born, the beginnings of love bring on much greater trials as their prejudices come in conflict with their mutual attraction. It is one of the cleverest plots in Western dramatic comedy and it is a delight to see how the situation gradually resolves itself since the solution lies the characters coming to terms as much with themselves as with each other.
Since there is so much that is good about the production, I am unhappy to report that it is flawed. While all the other characters speak with varied pace and inflection and do justice to the witty translation, Amy Price-Francis, fresh from the National Theatre School, rushes through virtually all of her lines until very near the end so that she throws away all the sense of nuance and subtlety so crucial to her role and to the play as a whole. While the play naturally requires that the four main characters become more agitated and confused as the action progresses, Price-Francis has Silvia begin the play in such a state of hyperactivity that there is no room for her to develop and thus for the humour of her situation to grow.
Otherwise, the cast is very fine. Colombe Demers, cast against type as the maid, gives one of her better performances, making much of the innuendo in her lines. Still, she and Price-Francis are not as instantly distinguishable as master and servant as they should be and as their male counterparts are. Alex Poch-Goldin is hilarious in every one of his scenes, fully capturing the self-delusion in the valet’s inept attempts to play the master. Graeme Somerville is equally excellent as the master overcome by the awkwardness of the subservient role he has chosen to play. Again and again, it is his intensity and concentration that carry off his scenes with the hyperactive Price-Francis. While Scott Nichol as Silvia’s brother, Mario, is only adequate, Oliver Dennis makes Orgon, the father, into a kind of Prospero, an author within the play, encouraging the events to go on because he has already divined their conclusion.
As director, John Van Burek encourages a certain amount of needless rushing about as if the complex psychological humour alone weren’t enough, but in general his blocking around the patterns of moveable box trees consistently underscores and reflects the varying conflicts faced by the characters. I first saw this play at the Comédie Française in 1988 and it had nowhere near the liveliness, freshness and fun of this production. Despite the single flaw in casting, this production convinces us that this play is a classic so witty and finely crafted that it ought to be standard repertoire.
©Christopher Hoile
Photo: Amy Price-Francis and Graeme Somerville. ©2000 Andjelja Djuric.
2000-05-25
The Game of Love and Chance