Picture it: An obsequious throng seeks to curry favor from the higher-ups. The ambitious and the career-obsessed unflinchingly spout false compliments in order to get ahead. And anyone who rejects this system of self-serving superficiality and farce, but instead feels compelled to always speak the truth, is reviled as an aberration. Sounds like the recent Career Fair at Georgetown University, you say? True, but this scene is also the pretext for Moli?re’s classic satire The Misanthrope, showing now at Arena Stage in the southwestern shadow of the Capitol, that ultimate monument to the brown nose.
In a departure from his usual focus on his own class, the urban bourgeoisie, Moli?re turns a critical lens to the personal politics of court life in 17th-century France. He tells the story of Alceste, a misanthrope—literally a hater of humankind—who despises the rampant hypocrisy he sees in all the flattery at court. “Esteem,” he laments, “is worthless if so cheaply bought.” His big mouth gets him into trouble, though, when he tells a fellow courtier of slightly higher rank, Oronte, that his poetry is horrendous and he should never write again. Alceste struggles to appease Oronte and court society more generally without rescinding his steadfast and sometimes brutal honesty.
The utter irony here is that Moli?re himself was employed by and answered to no less than King Louis XIV (of “L’?tat, c’est moi” fame). Therefore, not only was Moli?re in a precarious position by critiquing, albeit wryly, the extended entourage of an absolute monarch, he also had to balance his desire to be true to his art against a need to carefully maintain the favor and support of the king. In a sense, then, The Misanthrope is vaguely autobiographical, reflecting the playwright’s own struggle in a pre-modern incarnation of the selling-out dilemma.
Michael Emerson is satisfactory in the role of Alceste, capturing both the lovable and contemptible sides of the misanthrope. He has developed a clear and effective physicality for his character, with comically exaggerated backwards leaning and high steps. Unfortunately, he partially succumbs to the danger of acting in an arena setting by directing some of his lines and gestures towards the audience, at times even grandstanding for maximum audience response. As a result, his character portrayal loses credibility and believability. Fans of Emerson’s Emmy Award-winning performance as serial killer Willie Hinks on ABC’s The Practice may be slightly disappointed.
Alceste’s rebellious and self-righteous attitude toward the court culture of flattery and hypocrisy would hardly be complete without the requisite love interest. Enter C?lim?ne, the most beautiful and desired woman at court, who indulges the attention of many men (read: she gets around) but of course falls in love with the only man who treats her like crap: Alceste. Though repulsed by her constant gossiping and superficial friendships, and later suspicious that she has cheated on him, Alceste cannot help but love her in return. As he explains, “I feel an urge to hate you, it’s acute / Trouble is my heart won’t follow suit.”
Although many of her gestures are awkward and her voice tends to unnaturally climb in pitch, Nance Williamson offers a sophisticated rendering of C?lim?ne. Particularly in the final scene, when C?lim?ne is apologizing to Alceste and trying to make things right, Williamson adeptly exposes a vulnerable and very human C?lim?ne, contrasting nicely with her formerly composed, light-hearted, superficial self. This more nuanced interpretation is unmatched by her partner on stage, Emerson.
Undoubtedly the best performance in this show, however, is found in the more subdued role of C?lim?ne’s friend Eliante. Heather Robison brings her own natural voice to the part, a refreshing change from the exaggerated and strained vocal tones assumed by the other actors. In fact, her entire presentation is much more naturalistic, a quality necessary to a modern rendering of Moli?re yet undervalued by this cast. Naomi Jacobson is also delightful as the brisk, manipulative Arsino?, with her excellent sense of pace and crisp, effective gestures. Her synchronized fan gesticulating with C?lim?ne is fabulously executed.
While Ranjit Bolt’s new English adaptation is impressive in its accessibility, two-and-a-half hours of rhyming verse is difficult for anyone to stomach without a generous serving of champagne. Moli?re’s hyper-analysis of one character can be equally ingratiating in its third persistent hour. All told, The Misanthrope is nonetheless a delightful satire, and here in the most pretentious circles of Washington, the play’s subject continues to be ridiculously ? propos.
The Misanthrope is playing in the Fichandler Theater at Arena Stage through Nov. 3. Tickets start at $34, student and day-of-show discounts are available.
