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'love' hits all the right notes |
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boston herald (sept. 12, 1997) |
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"The Game of Love and Chance," presented by the Huntington Theatre Company, through Oct. 5. A ravishing rhapsody is being played on the Huntington Theatre Company stage. It's Stephen Wadsworth's exquisite production of an 18th century French comedy, "The Game of Love and Chance." Forget any preconceptions you might have about seeing a "costume drama" or a "classic." Wadsworth's adaptation and direction make this "Game" an intoxicating blend of superb slapstick and stylish substance. Marivaux's simple plot line is easy enough to follow. The parents of Sylvia and Dorante have arranged a marriage between the two. But in order to get to know their future spouse's true nature, both Sylvia and Dorante exchange places with their servants. Marivaux takes full advantage of all the comic complications that arise from the impersonations. Without the sure hand of Wadsworth, this Marivaux masterpiece could veer easily into farce. But Wadsworth confidently balances the laughter with the darker depths of the situations. Suddenly, the master learns what it's like to be treated as a servant, and the servant discovers there is more to life than a despairing acceptance of his lot. Through all of the raucousness and revelations, the contest between reason and love also emerges. These characters gain an understanding of the purity and classlessness of true love, and what sacrifices people are willing to make for it. All the schemes and games and tricks, it seems, are but a means of finding a person's sincere heart. Wadsworth plays his translation of the Marivaux script like a beautiful instrument. He sounds the appropriate emotional note in every scene, but his direction is always delicate, never overbearing. Perhaps the most delicious of Wadsworth's touches are his pauses. Like a rest in a musical score, he uses them to emphasize a point, provide a comic punch or even deflate an ego. At play's end, when the topsy-turvy world has righted itself again, Wadsworth points out the subtle ways in which this world has changed forever with a silent coda. Those carefully choreographed moments are worth a thousand words. But direction alone would not be enough. "The Game of Love and Chance" has an outstanding ensemble cast that keeps Marivaux's score in perfect harmony. As Sylvia, Francesca Faridany is a wonder. In the first act her vain and spoiled brat may not win your sympathy, but by the second act, when she says "I am seething," look out. What follows are an amazing series of tantrums that occur when she realizes her game has spun completely out of her control. By the third act, Sylvia has grown and matured into a woman who knows what she wants and is willing to risk everything for it. Her polar opposite is the high-spirited Harlequin (Jared Reed) who has disguised himself as his master, Dorante. Harlequin's hijinks are hilarious, but Reed also manages to bring him sharply down to earth when he realizes he's in love. Margaret Welsh is delightfully straight-forward as Lisette, the chambermaid who impersonates her imperious mistress. Paul Anthony Stewart, as Dorante, seems stiff at first, but it is only his to-the-manor-born approach to the wealthy gentleman. It's wonderful to watch him melt in the heat of his love's gaze. Nicholas Kepros as Sylvia's father Orgon, and Michael Medico as Sylvia's brother Mario, are given the difficult tasks of playing straight men amid the comic proceedings. But Kepros, with his heavy-lidded eyes, gives his straight man unexpected depth, while Medico offers a surprising twinkle as the teasing brother. Adding to this production's entrancing effect are Peter Kaczorowski's soft and subtle lighting and Thomas Lynch's outdoor-indoor design, complete with a crunchy gravel path, a tree that is easily encircled, and a many-windowed mansion—all the better to eavesdrop on you, my dear. All in all, the Huntington's "Game of Love and Chance" is a theatrical symphony whose magnificent melodies will leave you breathless. — Terry Byrne |
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