TRUMPERS GOTTA TRUMP
Reimagined Stratford production of Tartuffe tackles power, hypocrisy and spin-doctoring — with a modern twist,
Tartuffe
(out of 4) By Molière, translated by Ranjit Bolt, directed by Chris Abraham. Until Oct. 13 at the Festival Theatre, 55 Queen St., Stratford. stratfordfestival.ca or 1-800567-1600 “Are you ready to laugh your head off?” one beautifully groomed patron asked another on their way into the Festival Theatre. Word was already out in Stratford that Chris Abraham’s production of Molière’s 17th-century satirical comedy is a big fat hit.
And if “17th-century satirical comedy” doesn’t sound particularly pertinent, think again. Abraham’s production is set in the here and now: the script locates the action in Paris, but the sleek interiors of Orgon’s household, as designed brilliantly by Julie Fox, could be 2017 elite-class anywhere.
Ranjit Bolt’s translation, first produced in London 15 years ago, already managed the remarkable task of retaining the rhyming verse of Molière’s original while updating vocabulary and references so that it feels very contemporary. And, presumably with Bolt’s blessing, the Stratford company has updated it even further, down to Taylor Swift references (“haters gonna hate”) and yes, “covfefe.”
For this is a play about power, hypocrisy and spin-doctoring, and well, Trumpers gotta Trump.
Orgon (Graham Abbey) is a privileged businessman with a trophy second wife, Elmire (Maev Beaty), two iPhone-toting young adult offspring (Mercedes Morris as Mariane; Emilio Vieira as Damis), and a big man-crush on Tartuffe (Tom Rooney), a pseudopious, impoverished huckster who’s now living in their home. Everyone from his silken brother-in-law Cleante (Michael Blake) to the super-sassy maid Dorine (Anusree Roy) sees that Tartuffe’s a posturing charlatan, but Orgon is a blind-eyed devotee.
The satire lies in the question of who’s got the upper hand in this pow- er relationship and it’s Abbey, not Rooney, who starts making very recognizable finger-jabs as everyone piles up against him.
Rooney is the star casting and he’s every bit as sly, unctuous and hilarious as you might expect. But Molière makes us wait for it: his title character doesn’t turn up until the third of five acts. Good thing then that Abraham has stacked his cast with great talent all the way down to smaller parts and evidently worked long and hard with them to find the comic truth in their characters and exchanges.
The genius of Molière’s play is that he wraps up a potent critique — about how even the most sacred societal institutions (here, the Church) can be hijacked by opportunists skilled at manipulating those in pow- er — in a seeming bunch of fluff. But despite the surface lightness, at two and a half hours a production’s going to drag unless it really means something to the characters inhabiting it.
As Madame Pernelle, Rosemary Dunsmore’s command of the opening scene as she rains down disdain on her decadent younger family sets the evening up for success. Oh, how maddeningly convincing is Abbey as a master of the universe, whose selfcongratulation and lifestyle rituals (in what must surely be a Stratford first, a smoothie is NutriBulleted live onstage) help him keep reality at bay.
Beaty finds feminist bite in Elmire’s cunning deception of Tartuffe; she uses her sexuality and allure against the predator who only values her for those qualities. Roy is on fire as Dorine, dropping truth bombs with electric wit.
Rooney, characteristically, plays by stealth, oozing onstage with a slow hair flip, flanked by a henchman (Gordon S. Miller) who proves his loyalty to a gross-out extent in a wine-tasting scene. Rooney never plays less than full conviction of his righteous goodness, which heightens the comic stakes and success.
Pacing is superb: scenes slowly build to well-choreographed climaxes including a beautifully staged pillow battle (fight direction by John Stead) that ends with Rooney flagellating himself with a bouquet of flowers, and Beaty and Rooney pounding out a weird tribal love dance on the furniture.
That sly fox Rooney rarely shows his cards, but the huge grin on his face as he led the curtain call said it all: this production is clearly bringing as much joy to its performers as it is to its audiences.