'The Misanthrope': Actors need to let it rip
The cast of the New Rep's new production of "The Misanthrope" has mastered all the exquisite poetry of Moliere's play. And that's not easy. With its rhyming couplets, it can sound more like a poetry recital than a play. And with its gorgeous costumes and charming set, it looks great, too.
Now it's time for the actors to let it rip.
This "Misanthrope" feels more like a British drawing room comedy than a French farce. It's too polite. The show, which plays through Feb. 10 at the Arsenal Center for the Arts in Watertown, would benefit from running about 25 percent faster and bumping up the performances. Allow all the actors to be about twice as confounded, hysterical, manipulative and loud as they currently are. It may be an exercise for rehearsal only, but blast through the thing. See what happens. I think the production would find the moments that need to be heightened, sped up, or maybe just plain sillier.
Our misanthrope is Alceste (James Lloyd Reynolds), a man who hates the duplicity and fakeness he sees in all mankind. When asked to critique someone's new sonnet, Alceste is the kind of guy who thinks he's supposed to tell the poor poet the truth. His moral high ground is more important to him than the feelings of the people around him. But Alceste's puffy indignation gets deflated in the company of Celimene (Amy Russ), the sly beauty who makes him a weak-kneed sap, despite the fact that she possesses many of the qualities that he claims to detest. That's funny.
But Reynolds makes a crucial decision early in his performance of Alceste, and it's a decision that dogs him for the rest of the night - he plays Alceste as simply angry. The result is the poor man is never lovable. His furrowed brow keeps us at an emotional arm's length. And, worst of all, we don't really care whether he and the girl can triumph above their flaws.
It's too bad, because there seems to be so many other ways to play the role. Alceste doesn't need to be always angry. In fact, you could argue that he's actually hopelessly optimistic - he sees the divine potential of humans, and then he's crushed by the fact that they all fall so short. Including himself. Instead of always angry, Reynolds could play Alceste as perplexed by people, or disappointed, depressed and confounded by them. Better yet, he could have all these reactions at various points in the play. And all of these choices would make him more likable, more accessible, and most important of all, funnier. Instead, Reynolds' Alceste is oddly humorless.
Amy Russ is a keeper. Charming and seductive, she makes Alcestes of us all. We're putty in her hands. We know she's flawed, but when you look at her, impeccably dressed in designer Rafael Jean's gorgeous costumes, and you watch her playful banter and easy smile, you have a hard time remembering why. And Russ' performance runs far deeper than just her beauty. When Celimene gets her comeuppance near the end of Act Two, Russ breaks your heart. She doesn't say a word, but her pain is written in her eyes, brow and mouth. That's acting.
Billy Meleady, who's never bad onstage, seems miscast in this show. Meleady comes from the Marlon Brando school of acting. His visceral, honest performances have made him one of my favorite actors on the Boston scene. But he feels stifled - all trussed with no place to go - in this pompy comedy of manners.
Zillah Glory gets a lot out of the smaller role of Eliante. She nearly stops the show in Act One when she delivers a gorgeous speech about how lovers look at each other with kind and gentle eyes. You can feel a hush come over the audience as she delivers it. It's one of Moliere's most beautiful and observant passages in "The Misanthrope," and she nails it.
Glory is about the only one who wouldn't benefit from at least trying some amped-up speed-throughs of the play. Then, I think, all the pieces that director Adam Zahler has assembled so carefully and effectively - first and foremost, his whole cast's mastery of the poetry that could easily foil lesser actors - would suddenly fall into place. As we gathered our coats to go, the people behind me in the audience described the show as "enjoyable." It was meant as a compliment, but it sounded as though something was lacking. "Enjoyable" is fine, but Zahler and his cast feel on the cusp of giving us something more.
"The Misanthrope"
New Repertory Theatre