Molière got into a lot of trouble because of Tartuffe.
Although he insisted that the play lambasted only a small group of hypocritical religious figures, many spectators in 17th-century France thought his work aimed at piety itself, and convinced King Louis XIV to ban the play from the stage. Still, five years after its premiere — and the scandal it caused — Molière's third version of Tartuffe (1669) was finally accepted by the king, and one of Western drama's great classics began its centuries of success.
And why not? The title character is wonderfully wicked and a lot of fun to despise, and his main victim, Orgon, is a stand-in for all adults who have ever been taken in by a fraud, religious or secular. The scene in which Orgon hides under a table and watches Tartuffe nearly rape his wife is vintage dramatic irony, and the plot of a daughter condemned by a parent to an unwanted marriage has been a comic staple for about 2,300 years. Finally, Richard Wilbur's English version, with its zinging rhymed couplets, is a masterpiece of translation, and an attraction all its own. In other words, there are a lot of good reasons why a contemporary audience should enjoy this show.
Unfortunately, the TRT2 production currently at the Silver Meteor Gallery has too many weaknesses to be enjoyable. TRT2, according to the program, is the new Tampa Repertory Theatre's second company, created to "provide young actors, designers, and directors an opportunity to develop, experiment and grow." But the key performers in this Tartuffe aren't particularly young, and there's nothing terribly experimental about Matthew Frankel and Matthew Ray's direction. Most importantly, the role of Tartuffe is played poorly by Rick Stutzel, who seems unsure of his lines, painfully hesitant and strange, surely not the polished charlatan who has Monsieur Orgon and his mother bamboozled.
A few of the other actors are more convincing — April Bender is a finely sanctimonious Madame Pernelle, Jessy Quinones is terrific as the spunky maidservant Dorine, and David Barrow is precise as Orgon's son Damis. But the other half-dozen performers are only adequate, and Landon Green as Valère is given such artificial ways of expressing himself (is this the "experimental" directing?) that he seems to come from another production altogether.
There's no set to speak of, the uncredited costumes date from at least three different time periods, and it's never explained why a woman, Betty-Jane Parks, plays the bailiff who comes to boot Orgon off his property. In other words, this is not the production to see if you want to understand why Tartuffe has held the stage for 350 years (including 2,000 performances at the Comédie Française between 1680 and 1900). A production like this makes a classic look bad.
And Tartuffe is anything but that. From the Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker scandals to the John Edwards and Eliot Spitzer brouhahas, we've all been witnesses to the unmasking of notably impious pious persons. And that's what Tartuffe is: a sexual adventurer and financial schemer who uses his position to gain women and lucre. When the play starts, he's already captivated the faith of Orgon (Greg Milton) and his mother, and Orgon has already promised him the hand of his daughter Mariane (Colleen Cherry). But that's not enough for our irreligious schemer: he also wants an adulterous affair with Orgon's wife Elmire (Danielle Calderone), and the gift of Orgon's property.
Standing in Tartuffe's way are two persons: Dorine, who knows what's best for her mistress even if the latter doesn't, and Elmire, who tries desperately to convince her husband of Tartuffe's advances, and finally forces him to witness the villain's moves with his own eyes. Even unmasked, Tartuffe is notoriously slippery — and only a great king can put the perp in prison. Call it a deus ex machina or an act of clever sycophancy, the ending of Tartuffe is the play’s only flaw. Aside from that (and, again, in the great Wilbur translation), it is — or should be — pure pleasure.
Oh well — let's guess that things will improve. Tampa Repertory Theatre began its existence with a regrettable Alcestis, but then moved on to an entirely professional Cold Storage. So too may this second company learn from its errors. My one word of advice: casting is destiny. No play, however great, can survive bad acting. And a truly gifted actor can make even a mediocre play worth watching.
Hang in there, TRT2.
The Bay area needs more theaters. And will wait for you patiently.
This article appears in Mar 8-14, 2012.
