Wild verses, costumes, sets make 'The School for Lies' work
By Mark Hughes Cobb, Entertainment Editor, The Tuscaloosa News
Published: Thursday, November 21, 2013
David Ives’ “The School for Lies” tracks Moliere’s “The Misanthrope,” the satirical comedy/drama — partly depending on how one perceives the title character — on which it is based, in a fashion similar to Tom Stoppard’s riffs on Shakespeare. As in “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” and “Shakespeare in Love,” the contemporary writer both mocks and pays homage to his source, building from deep love and understanding.
Where the Alceste of “Misanthrope” can be seen as either admirable truth-teller or deluded fool for love lies in the production, but the Frank (and frank-speaking) misanthrope of “School for Lies” craves it all. He wishes to remain the piercer of pretension and pomposity even as he softens enough to hook up with the woman he sees as his intellectual equal, Celimene. Though she is weighted by the trappings of society, Frank suggests, together they will slip those bonds.
But there’s no doubt everyone in the University of Alabama’s production of “School for Lies,” adeptly directed by Gavin Cameron-Webb, is on stage for your entertainment, even as the dark Frank (played with fierce conviction by Samuel Hardy) delivers cruel and yet correct, honest criticism. It’s apparent from the wry opening, in which Philinte (Michael Witherell), the lukewarm water between Celimene’s fire and Frank’s ice, eases us into the proceedings with a friendly “Masterpiece Theatre”-meets-Monty
Python-ish opening.If the leering, reeling performances, sparkling highbrow-to-lowbrow wit — Ives’ work is written in verse, though the rhyme schemes are sometimes tweaked, for clarity’s sake — and silly last-act contrivances didn’t provide enough clues, Donna Meester’s subtle-as-a-mallet costume design should do the trick. The parade of towering wigs, glowing knee breeches and ribbons, pimped-out sneakers and stockings on display suggest the worst nightmares of Elton John meeting ’80s Mick Jagger at a Cirque du Soleil knockoff.That’s meant as a compliment.
The lurid design, including Andy Fitch’s overly lush parlor and Cassie Kay Hoppas’ extravagant hair and makeup, complements and supports fast-talking, fast-moving, ultimately winning comedy action.
Ives has more in mind than simply updating Moliere, because he returns the setting to 1666 France while under-lining parallels with modern society — the more things change... — in pink and purple and orange airbrush. Modern references drop in like, well, F-bombs, as do occasional breaks in the rhythm of the delivery, some less effective than others — forcing rap into a classical setting worked in “Compleat Wrks of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged)” due to novelty, but it may be about time to retire the white-kid-doing-lame-hip-hop bit — but all with a throw-it-against-the-wall-and-see-what-shticks energy that glosses over rough spots.
Hardy shines, given 70 percent of the best lines and much of the attitude, and he clearly revels in the snap and bite of the words, turning his body into the whip that cracks them out. His revulsion at the upper crust would be apparent even were he mute. But this production enjoys a wealth of riches in its cast, with Witherell winning hearts and laughs from his earnest good-guy joy, and the clownish trio of suitors — Oronte (William Rowland), Clitander (Jay Jurden) and Acaste (Drey Mitchell) — nicely dividing up the bits, from horrible poet to screaming gossip to blithering idiot. Sarah Jean Peters plays Celimene’s quirks with a nervous energy that is often beguiling, though sometimes distracting; she finishes strong with a streak of heartbreak. Carrie Poh lights up the stage as Eliante, who in the Moliere was something of Philinte’s modest other half, but in “School for Lies,” Poh makes her a torch ready to be set aflame. Her turns from lust to love to perplexity and back to kindness are delightful, seamless. Elizabeth Bernhardt finds some of the laughs in the mostly thankless role of the moralizing Arsinoe, and Jordan DeWitt hams it up big time — again, in this show, that’s a compliment — in dual roles as a pair of beleaguered servants.
About the worst thing you can say about this production is that the verse, piling witticism upon pun upon pop-culture reference, almost doesn’t have room to breathe. Director Cameron-Webb, as noted above, has directed the pace to ebb and flow at moments, in order to let lines hit more directly, which is clearly the right choice. But some bits still verge on unintelligibility.
There’ll be more quiet snickers than belly laughs in a show like this, partly because the audience will be holding it in, not wanting to take a chance on missing a word.
Read the original article at The Tuscaloosa News
Published: Thursday, November 21, 2013
David Ives’ “The School for Lies” tracks Moliere’s “The Misanthrope,” the satirical comedy/drama — partly depending on how one perceives the title character — on which it is based, in a fashion similar to Tom Stoppard’s riffs on Shakespeare. As in “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” and “Shakespeare in Love,” the contemporary writer both mocks and pays homage to his source, building from deep love and understanding.
Where the Alceste of “Misanthrope” can be seen as either admirable truth-teller or deluded fool for love lies in the production, but the Frank (and frank-speaking) misanthrope of “School for Lies” craves it all. He wishes to remain the piercer of pretension and pomposity even as he softens enough to hook up with the woman he sees as his intellectual equal, Celimene. Though she is weighted by the trappings of society, Frank suggests, together they will slip those bonds.
But there’s no doubt everyone in the University of Alabama’s production of “School for Lies,” adeptly directed by Gavin Cameron-Webb, is on stage for your entertainment, even as the dark Frank (played with fierce conviction by Samuel Hardy) delivers cruel and yet correct, honest criticism. It’s apparent from the wry opening, in which Philinte (Michael Witherell), the lukewarm water between Celimene’s fire and Frank’s ice, eases us into the proceedings with a friendly “Masterpiece Theatre”-meets-Monty
Python-ish opening.If the leering, reeling performances, sparkling highbrow-to-lowbrow wit — Ives’ work is written in verse, though the rhyme schemes are sometimes tweaked, for clarity’s sake — and silly last-act contrivances didn’t provide enough clues, Donna Meester’s subtle-as-a-mallet costume design should do the trick. The parade of towering wigs, glowing knee breeches and ribbons, pimped-out sneakers and stockings on display suggest the worst nightmares of Elton John meeting ’80s Mick Jagger at a Cirque du Soleil knockoff.That’s meant as a compliment.
The lurid design, including Andy Fitch’s overly lush parlor and Cassie Kay Hoppas’ extravagant hair and makeup, complements and supports fast-talking, fast-moving, ultimately winning comedy action.
Ives has more in mind than simply updating Moliere, because he returns the setting to 1666 France while under-lining parallels with modern society — the more things change... — in pink and purple and orange airbrush. Modern references drop in like, well, F-bombs, as do occasional breaks in the rhythm of the delivery, some less effective than others — forcing rap into a classical setting worked in “Compleat Wrks of Wllm Shkspr (Abridged)” due to novelty, but it may be about time to retire the white-kid-doing-lame-hip-hop bit — but all with a throw-it-against-the-wall-and-see-what-shticks energy that glosses over rough spots.
Hardy shines, given 70 percent of the best lines and much of the attitude, and he clearly revels in the snap and bite of the words, turning his body into the whip that cracks them out. His revulsion at the upper crust would be apparent even were he mute. But this production enjoys a wealth of riches in its cast, with Witherell winning hearts and laughs from his earnest good-guy joy, and the clownish trio of suitors — Oronte (William Rowland), Clitander (Jay Jurden) and Acaste (Drey Mitchell) — nicely dividing up the bits, from horrible poet to screaming gossip to blithering idiot. Sarah Jean Peters plays Celimene’s quirks with a nervous energy that is often beguiling, though sometimes distracting; she finishes strong with a streak of heartbreak. Carrie Poh lights up the stage as Eliante, who in the Moliere was something of Philinte’s modest other half, but in “School for Lies,” Poh makes her a torch ready to be set aflame. Her turns from lust to love to perplexity and back to kindness are delightful, seamless. Elizabeth Bernhardt finds some of the laughs in the mostly thankless role of the moralizing Arsinoe, and Jordan DeWitt hams it up big time — again, in this show, that’s a compliment — in dual roles as a pair of beleaguered servants.
About the worst thing you can say about this production is that the verse, piling witticism upon pun upon pop-culture reference, almost doesn’t have room to breathe. Director Cameron-Webb, as noted above, has directed the pace to ebb and flow at moments, in order to let lines hit more directly, which is clearly the right choice. But some bits still verge on unintelligibility.
There’ll be more quiet snickers than belly laughs in a show like this, partly because the audience will be holding it in, not wanting to take a chance on missing a word.
Read the original article at The Tuscaloosa News
