Alceste, furiously mixing the spaghettis and the chocolate*.At one point in the play, in a (post-modern?) emphatic gesture Alceste, the excessive and constantly irritated main character climbs on the lunch table and pours the entire meal over his head (spaghettis, ketchup, chocolate and whatever he comes across) before inserting a sausage in his pants. This moment qualifies as one of “the many arguably freakish, undeniably stimulating liberties put forth by Ivo Van Hove in his provocative gloss on The Misanthrope [Eric Grode in the NY Sun]. The characters make frequent use of their cell phones, play Second Life on their laptop and are being filmed at the same time –so far, nothing unacceptable.
What is interesting is how a 17th century play can still make perfect sense right now, in a different context. The problem is that The Misanthrope is built upon a fairly complex argument (which made as much sense when it was written as it does now) supported by equally complex characters. And the NY Sun article rightly quotes the following (from 1965) : "Molière's comedy, because it is so thoroughly ‘written,' resists the overextension of any thesis".
The NY Theatre Workshop is showing a new, modern translation (by Tony Harrison). There is nothing wrong with desacrilizing a text or an author, as long at its meaning is somewhat retained: but Harrison’s text strikes me as a bad modern translation (combined with Van Hove’s direction, it is even worse). “Mr. Van Hove's gut renovations of the classics” (like Hedda Gabler) doesn’t really work this time because the mise en scene doesn’t work with a text that is already weaker than the original. However exciting it may be (a modern Misanthrope!), the whole experience turns out to be pretty frustrating. The fact that the actors are trapped in a transparent loft, all wearing the same suits and all seemingly alienated by corporate culture grossly simplifies the meaning of the text. “Where’s the friction between substance and surface?” asks Ben Brantley in the Times. The argument of the play seems reduced to a stupid debate between silly people (should one always speak his mind / or should one compromise and lie for the sake of social peace?). Moliere’s play isn’t prescriptive, whether you should hate everybody or not is not the point. But except for Alceste (Bill Kamp), everyone else in Van Hove’s play is equally superficial and self-centered and indeed it makes you want to pour ketchup on yourself. It also makes you wonder why you should care for this play if it’s nothing else than empty –poorly written- chatting ("bavardage").
*He's the misanthrope.
2 comments:
It sounds like this performance fell into the "experimental" trap. I recently saw a play called "MedEia" at P.S. 122, a reworking of Euripides' Medea in abstract, postmodern terms and from the perspective of the Greek chorus, by Dutch theater collective Dood Paard. Using what they call "Euro-English," a dialect full of cliches and pilfered song lyrics, a sparse set and costumes that practically screamed "artsy," and seemingly unrelated slide shows, they too managed to strip the original of any substance. Our era may have its new complexities, but that doesn't mean a work can (or should) be modernized simply by injecting weirdness.
I would much prefer to see him eat the spagetti with the choclate... now THATS New York Theater!
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