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The
Imaginary Invalid
Imago
Theater,
17
SE 8th Ave., 231-9581. 7:30 pm Thursdays, 8 pm Fridays-Saturdays.
Opens Nov. 2. $16-$18.
The
Imaginary Invalid
Reed
College Theater, Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock Blvd.,
777-7284.
8 pm Thursdays-Saturdays. Opens Nov. 3. $3-$5.
"I suppose
there's no risk pretending to be dead."
--Argan in The Imaginary Invalid
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Twenty-two black-clad doctors brandishing enema tools circled
their newest initiate, Argan, the famous hypochondriac.
By the light of tallow candles in a Paris theater, Molière's
The Imaginary Invalid reached its hilarious conclusion
on the fourth night of its premiere in 1673.
After affirming his devotion to bloodletting, purges and
colonic intrusions, Argan--played by Molière himself--rose
from his chair to swear a mock-Latin oath. Suddenly, Molière
collapsed back in the chair with a moan. His fellow actors
froze in panic, not knowing how to respond, when the playwright
finally pulled himself up laughing and cried, "I swear."
Molière hemorrhaged to death in his bed that night,
without receiving any care from a physician. Though his
friends begged various doctors to come to the famous playwright's
aid, they refused. The Imaginary Invalid's creator
had turned the physicians' sacred profession into a
burlesque, and they made him pay for it.
The Imaginary Invalid is one of Molière's
strangest masterpieces, one of the writer's "comedy-ballets,"
a joyously mongrel art that grafted music, dance and street
commedia onto a comedy of manners. The basic plot
of Invalid concerns the hypochondriacal Argan and
the lengths he goes to seek injections and enemas to stave
off imagined ailments. The medical profession is packed
with quacks aching to bilk him for their services.
Argan hatches a scheme to marry his daughter Angelique
to the dull doctor son of Dr. Purgon, ensuring himself lifelong
medical care. But Angelique has plans of her own, which
she finally realizes with the assistance of the quirt-tongued
maid, Toinette. It all ends with a fake graduation program,
wherein a troupe of actors dressed as doctors convinces
Argan that he is now a doctor himself, what with his intimate
knowledge of tubes and knives. Interspersed within this
inspired madness are lovelorn shepherdesses, monkeys, Moorish
girls, obtrusive violinists, the god Pan and Punchinello
himself.
As excellent as the play is, Invalid is so surreal
that it is rarely performed. Now, though, Portland suddenly
has two rival productions to choose from.
Reed College theater professor Kathleen Worley planned
to direct a production of Molière's Tartuffe,
until her fellow professor of costume design, Cara Carr,
told her of an idea she had for making costumes out of an
ordinary industrial material.
"It was such a bizarre idea that I knew we had to do an
equally bizarre play, and Invalid came to mind,"
says Worley. This secret material (which I've been sworn
not to divulge) has been fashioned into some extraordinary
duds, and the stuff is quickly worming its way into the
set design. "We can't seem to stop using it," laughs Worley.
"It's a strange fixation."
Worley has made a few cuts to Mildred Marmur's translation.
"The shepherdess prologue is gone and, sadly, so are the
monkeys," she said. Worley has also commissioned a new score
from composer John Vergin to replace the original by Charpentier.
Molière laced in-jokes throughout the play--there's
an argument between Argan and his brother Berald on Molière's
worth as a playwright. In this spirit, Worley's production
ends with a mockery of Reed's graduation ceremony, and the
bevy of faux-doctors who bless Argan's doctorate will be
played by the college's dean and leading professors.
The in-jokes go further in Imago's wild adaptation, with
director Jerry Mouawad--who, dangerously enough, plays Argan--sending
up his Lebanese-American background. Set in contemporary
New York, this Invalid has its sights set on more
than just the medical establishment. "There's a lot of 'drama'
in a Lebanese household," says Mouawad, "and much of Molière's
madness seems fairly familiar to me." Unlike Worley, Mouawad
was adamant that the shepherdess prologue stay, though the
bucolic maid is now a love-drunk bar hostess crooning to
a portrait of Omar Sharif.
"I saw her as a Lebanese video singer," Mouawad admits.
Though Mouawad and fellow co-artistic director Carol Triffle
have long been devotees of commedia, they've decided
not to include the Punchinello interlude. But the clown's
manic energy will certainly invest Imago's piece with plenty
of lunacy, including a riotous procession of the doctors
capping the play. Imago's production also sports original
music by Katie Griesar and Halim Mouawad, the director's
father.
While a full diagnosis of this patient has never been accomplished,
it's likely that two doses of Molière will be quite
good for the health of Portland theater.
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