The Misanthrope

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

A luscious bed engulfing the stage, a 17th Century play set in early 19th Century, delicious costumes, a playwright stuffing his own torrential experiences into correct and accepted form, a stellar cast, a visionary director, and the Denver Center Theatre Company transforms the Stage Theatre into a double-edged, forked-tongue brimming with hilarious situations, bumbling characters, barbed wire wit, and magnificent execution.

(Left to Right)David Ivers as Clitandre, Ruth Eglsaer as Celimene and Sam Gregory as Acaste in the Denver Center Theatre Company’s season-opening production of The Misanthrope. Photo by Terry Shapiro

When structure demands, clipped words stand tall in requirement, and body language becomes an exclamation point for words rendered, no one does it better than Jamie Horton.

In the Denver Center Theatre Company’s magically timed production of Molière’s The Misanthrope, Horton wraps himself in the tangled barbed words of master social critic, Alceste. His pointed, pithy comments center on a highflying party from which he desires isolation. He makes no bones about telling his best friend, Philinte, to leave him be. Philinte, engulfed by Steven Cole Hughes, laps up Alceste’s words, tries vainly to stand up to him, plays verbal one-ups-man tag, turns his back on him when Alceste demands, but refuses to leave. Alceste rips into the false, hollow social graces surrounding him. “To honor all men is to honor none,” he spits.

Translated into English verse by Richard Wilbur, the 1666 play directed by Nagle Jackson has been set in early 19th Century. Strange, isn’t it, the more things change, the more they stay the same? Moliere fits comfortably in our go for broke society. Wrought with wry wit, the cunning translation fits neatly into Horton’s pocket.

Even behind the stunned biting words, lies the sense there is something more to this social critic who sets himself apart from the human race.

Ah, yes, frustrated, sexual tension, confused desires, blind love, dog-eared infatuation for a younger woman, Celimene, (Ruth Eglsaer) who declares her love for Alceste, while feeding her princess ego with juicy flirtations. A dichotomy in his own skin, Alceste throws away keen observation on the human race, to a blind puppy love game.

Moliere understood human nature, maybe even more than he realized. The dichotomy of Alceste maintains life and breath to this very day.

Eglsaer is indeed a younger woman, 23 to be exact, and this is her first Equity production. Commanding the stage even when she is in the background, she is indeed a match for Horton’s Alceste. Beautiful, talented, Eglsaer has grabbed Celimene by the lily-white throat in ownership.

Emphasizing the sexual tension behind Alceste, set designer Vicki Smith engulfs the stage with an elaborate boudoir with immense tapestries and cherubs by the score and a bed everyone drools over. In a brilliant directional move, most of the action takes place around and on the bed. Nearly becoming the stage itself, a good part of the cast can easily flaunt their verbal wares comfortably in the plush bedding.

Bill Christ gives an amazing, hysterical performance as Oronte; a wannabe poet who pines for Alceste’s approval on his newly written sonnet entitled “Hope.” A classical comedic moment, and Christ rides it to the hilt. The momentum of his would-be sonnet carries him into a not soon to be forgotten performance.

Sam Gregory and David Ivers ride the wiles of the two Marquis, Alceste and Clitandre as Siamese twins entwined with the same energy, obviously having the time of their lives. Silly, ridiculous clowns greeted with horrified distain from Alceste, Celimene eggs them on, basking in their flirtatious attention, even when it focuses on each other rather than her.

Elizabeth Rainer molds Eliante; Celimene’s cousin, into a shy, soft-spoken second fiddle member of the entourage who would like half the attention Celimene gleans, but really wants someone to love. She thinks she wants Alceste, Rainer gives Eliante a subtly coyness in opposition to the craziness surrounding her.

A knock-out performance comes from Robynn Rodriguez as Arsinoe who bravely takes on Celimene and Alceste, wanting to put them both in their place for her own self assuming ways.

Technically part of the extraordinary set, the cabinet takes on a laughable character in its own right hiding, revealing the unexpected.

Infectious lighting designed by Peter Maradudin stuns poignantly in the last scene speaking volumes to the absurdity of the comic inter-play dancing so fervently throughout this farce. Stark white lighting shines truth on that which strikes the funny bone to convulsions.