Perhaps the Red Bull Theater Co., which specializes in Jacobean theater classics, offered a break from its usual bloodthirsty fare, in the form of The School for Scandal, which closed this weekend. But though bodies are
not stabbed, many a character's reputation lay murdered in the company’s revival of this
scathing 1777 comedy of manners by Richard Brinsley Sheridan.
At the end of a life in the rough-and-tumble worlds
of the theater and politics, this Anglo-Irish playwright lamented: “It is a
fact that I have scarcely ever in my life contradicted any one calumny against
me ... I have since on reflection ceased to approve my own conduct in these
respects. Were I to lead my life over again, I should act otherwise.” Sheridan
seemed well aware of the potential price he and others prominent in society
might pay, though, when he wrote this satire at age 26.
Toward the start of this sprightly production at the
Off-Broadway Lucille Lortel Theater on Christopher Street, music and sound
designer Greg Pliska made wickedly effective use of "I'm Gonna Sit Right
Down and Write Myself a Letter." It came just as the green-wigged Mr.
Snake was just about to fire off an innuendo-filled missive that will leave a
victim open to public ridicule. Truman Capote and Perez Hilton couldn’t have
plunged into the job with more gusto.
Snake is also on hand when his ally in calumny, Lady
Sneerwell, emerges from behind a screen after having just defecated. The
screen here foreshadows its more comic (and more famous) use later in the
play. But the scene was also a graphic signal to the audience that it was in
for some dirty business for the next two hours.
In her youth, Lady Sneerwell tells the toadying
Snake, she had been so wounded by “the envenomed tongue of slander” that
nothing now gives her more pleasure than “reducing others to the level of my
own injured reputation.” At the moment, she has an even more powerful motive for deadly
social skill: she wants to destroy the feelings of young, virginal Maria for
the wastrel Charles Surface—a man who, despite herself, she covets.
If any playwright can be regarded as the missing
link between Moliere and Wilde, it is Sheridan, who was heavily influenced by
Restoration Comedies of the late 17th century. Like his theater
forebears William Congreve and William Wycherley, he found
rich material in the sexual mores of the English aristocracy. Besides Snake and
Lake Sneerwell, these include the choleric, jealous Sir Peter Teazle; his
flighty, far younger wife, Lady Teazle; the hypocritical Joseph Surface and his
rakish but good-hearted brother Charles; the would-be poet Sir Benjamin
Backbite and his equally odious uncle Crabtree, both vicious gossips; and Mrs.
Candour, one of the deadliest in the entire “School,” with a kindly manner
concealing a vicious tongue.
The names of these and other characters are the kind
of broad clues that theatergoers used to receive about characters. Several of
these figures are, in fact, not much more than caricatures. In a play filled
with such characters and plot devices that are stock features of farce (e.g., an
aging city husband and his far younger country wife, a hiding place under
constant siege, etc.), much depends not only on original qualities that the
playwright can bring to the table, but also the talent and energy of the
director and cast reviving it.
Sheridan had a special talent for dialogue that
economically evokes character ("If you wanted authority over me, you
should have adopted me and not married me" is all we need to know about
how Lady Teazle saucily taunts her husband for their age difference), that
surprises and delights (“Now you’re going to be moral and forget you’re amongst
friends,” says Lady Sneerwell to Joseph), or that rises to the level of an
aphorism (“The world is so censorious that no character escapes,"
according to Mrs. Candour).
Among a uniformly fine cast, several actors stood
out. Mark Linn-Baker earned
widespread attention three decades ago for appearances on the big screen (My Favorite Year) and television (Perfect Strangers). But stage
aficionados have come to know him as one of the most versatile and dependable
character actors in New York, where he has appeared in You Can’t Take It With You and Twentieth
Century. The role of Sir Peter might not have been in as high-profile
productions as those, but Baker made the most of the opportunity to play this
querulous husband all too fearful that he has made a dreadful mistake in
marrying so late in life.
Two veteran actresses, Frances Barber and Dana Ivey,
brought consummate skill to their roles as particularly deadly female gossips, Lady
Sneerwell and Lady Candour, respectively. And Christian Conn brought dollops of shape-shifting, sometimes frantic
energy to the proceedings as Joseph Surface.
Marc Vietor directed with aplomb, never letting the
pace slip throughout.
The Red Bull Theater occupies a very special niche
among Off-Broadway venues, as I noted, for instance, in this review of its production of The Changeling, by Thomas
Middleton and William Rowley, a few months ago. Yet I have not been
disappointed yet in any of their shows, and The
School for Scandal is no exception to the rule.
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