Advertisement

Laughter: The Best Medicine

By John Quinn

The Hilberry Theatre presents A Doctor in Spite of Himself in rotating repertory through Feb. 8. Photo: Hilberry Theatre

The beauty of an academic arts program is how well it educates artist and audience alike. It is especially fascinating when the project forces artists out of their comfort zone, challenging them to toss out everything they've learned about "Building a Character" and "Creating a Role." Frankly, reality is over rated. Thus the Hilberry Theatre, having plumbed the depths of epic theater last season with "Marat/Sade," explores the origins of slapstick comedy with Moliere's 1666 satire, "A Doctor in Spite of Himself."
Like Madonna, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin became a one-name celebrity, "Moliere." He wrote, directed and starred in a string of successful comedies before dying of tuberculosis shortly after a performance as the title character of, of all things, "The Imaginary Invalid." His rapier wit and cynical eye have placed him among the heavyweights of the theater. But can comedy that brought down the house during the reign of Louis XIV resonate in 21st century America? Well, if you've been following the comedy of errors surrounding the Affordable Care Act, the answer is, "Oh, yes, indeed."
"Le Medecin Malgre Lui" was translated and directed by Arne Zaslove, who has successfully updated Moliere's sensibilities by preserving the master's blend of sophisticated French comedy with the older – and cruder – genre of commedia dell'arte. Rather than translating 17th century French into 17th century English, Zaslove has produced a script rich in modern idioms but rather timeless in its delivery. Moliere's characters are not original; they are recognizable Commedia archetypes. Their lines are formally declaimed; audience and cast alike are constantly aware that this is a play. By dispensing with any hint of reality, the cast is free to milk the comedy for all it's worth. The results are zany – not unexpected; that word derives from the name of a classic commedia clown, Zanni.
Sganarelle (Brandon Grantz) is a lazy, drunken wood cutter; who if asked, "When did you stop beating your wife?" would answer "Not yet." His dabbling in petty domestic violence infuriates his long-suffering wife, Martine (Sarah Hawkins Moan), who plots revenge. She overhears two servants, Valere (Topher Payne) and Lucas (David Sterritt), complain that their master, Geronte (Brandy Joe Plambeck), is searching for a great physician. Martine passes her ignorant but wily husband off as a miracle worker so convincingly that the clowns are eager to convince Sganarelle of his prowess – even if they have to beat the notion into him.
The patient, though, is not Geronte but his daughter, Lucinde (Danielle Cochrane), who is passive-aggressively feigning muteness because Daddy demands she marry the wealthy Horace (Scott Wilding) rather than Leandre (Alec Barbour). Yes, it's all rather boilerplate, but the superficial plot doesn't slow down the madcap comedy. It's rude; bawdy but never vulgar, and quite literally slapstick. (The slapstick is a paddle that has a business end composed of two hinged pieces of wood. The stick doesn't have to hit a body to produce a satisfying "crack." It ritualizes the violence, and never fails to evoke a laugh.)
Moliere's intent was to poke fun at the supercilious, avaricious doctors of his day, who clouded communication with sonorous Latin and considered themselves a cut above the hoi polloi. One of his most devastating lines is, "Whether you do good or bad, you get paid just the same." Brandon Grantz has the character down pat. But he's ably aided and abetted by the awesome physical and vocal talents of Topher Payne, as the hapless Valere and Bevin Bell-Hall as Valere's bosomy, coquette of a wife, Jacqueline. Her seduction by Sganarelle right under her husband's nose, largely played in pantomime, is a highlight of the evening.
John Woodland's costumes give more than a passing nod to conventions of the commedia, particularly in the repetitive use of diamond patterns, stripes and "little poof balls." Yet like Zaslove's script, the costumes are really timeless, and we can readily play along with the gag of a "doctor" and "apothecary" dressed for the 1930s instead of the 1660s. While the choice was the director's subtle homage to the Marx Brothers comedies, "A Doctor in Spite of Himself" is so surreal, their appearance seems "normal."
As I wrote above, reality is overrated.

REVIEW:
'A Doctor in Spite of Himself'
Hilberry Theatre, 4743 Cass Ave., Detroit. 8 p.m. Nov. 16, 22, 23, Jan. 23, 24, 25, Feb. 6, 7 & 8; and 2 p.m. Nov. 20 & Jan. 25. 1 hour, 20 minutes; no intermission. $12-30. 313-577-2972. http://www.Hilberry.com

Advertisement
Advertisement

From the Pride Source Marketplace

Go to the Marketplace
Directory default
I have over 30 years experience working with adults and adolescents who have issues with depression…
Learn More
Directory default
Providing direct primary care to the LGBTQ, as well as the and Corktown community.
Learn More
Directory default
Offering full-service banking and lending expertise. Flagstar is Michigan's largest mortgage…
Learn More
Advertisement