"Tartuffe" review for The Ark

Tartuffe Cute, Not Tough
Commedia dell’arte is an old form of theatre that dates from the Renaissance, with some parts going back to Roman times. It was especially popular in Italy, and its original form employed traveling troupes and stock characters, all identifiable from their masks. The plots were basic, often bawdy, and the shows were famous for humorous interruptions and athletic bits of physical stage business.

Moliere’s Tartuffe, now at the Marin Theatre Company, is being produced and staged in its original commedia style by the Dell’Arte Company. This French-Italian hybrid is explained in the program notes, stating that the playwright’s French troupe shared performance space with one of the traveling Italian troupes, and Moliere was greatly influenced by their work.

His 1664 Tartuffe began as three acts, later expanded to five. The story goes that King Louis XIV thought it was pretty funny, but – probably under pressure from the Church -- didn’t allow it to be seen in public for five years. ( Our home’s French dictionary defines tartufe as “a sanctimonious hypocrite.”) The playwright’s motives are made even clearer his preface to the play, “’Tis a mighty stroke at any vice to make it the laughing stock of everybody, for men will easily suffer reproof, but they can by no means endure mockery.”

In this comedy, mockery is widespread, but is especially directed to Tartuffe, the sanctimonious hypocrite who has taken over a rich man’s household. This character, does not show up until the second act. Instead, we meet the objects of his scheming, both masked and made up, who occupy the home of the rich and doddering Orgon (Adrian C. Mejia.) Dell’Arte introduces grand excesses of the time through the veil of a scrim with a splendor of fireworks, music, crowd sounds, dancers, acrobats, costumes and wigs.

Then Orgon’s masked mother enters (Barbara Geary,) chiding her granddaughter for appearing without her wig: “No wig, no ruling class!” scolds grandma. Nearby, a naughty monkey disappears under the ladies’ voluminous skirts, while the old lady declares that she hates her whole family, but admires Tartuffe, “a holy man.”

Then her son returns from a trip, and, ignoring news of his wife’s recent illness, inquires only after the welfare of Tartuffe. Orgon’s struggles with his cane yield much of the show’s physical comedy – think Three Stooges with a ladder – as the old man determines to marry off his now-wigged daughter, Mariane (Jacqueline Dandeneau,) to Tartuffe.

Only the maidservant, Dorine (Keight Gleasaon, works tirelessly to expose the imposter and to unite the would-be lovers, Mariane and her suitor, the mincing Valere (David Ferney.)

Eventually, a masked Tartuffe (Kevin Michael Fields) makes his entrance in a fine bit of staging by director Giulio Cesare Perrone. Accompanied by fanfares and monkey, Tartuffe presents himself under his own personal canopy, so curtained and removed that only one grasping hand protrudes. By now, he has gained so much power in the household that no one in it, including himself, believes his wicked attempts to seduce Orgon’s wife, Elmire. “Secret sinning is not a sin at all,” says the usurper.

Tartuffe is, as the program notes state, “a comedy with teeth,” but much of its bite has been adapted away with theatrical attempts to pull it out of its time. The lovers, for instance, croon a Mozart duet, not available in 1664. The family’s celebration calls forth salsa dancing. And this two-act play is lengthened swith a long, gymnastic curtain call.

This is a lavish, large-cast production. Cesare Perrone’s set and costumes are delightful to look at; Tim Gray’s music and sound are a pleasure to hear. But as for teeth, this Tartuffe doesn’t bite.

Moliere’s Tartuffe will be at the Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller Avenue in Mill Valley, through December 10. For information about times, prices, and special events associated with this production, see www.marintheatre.org or call 388-5208.