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The Misanthrope: University Drama. August 21—31. Directed by Anthony Taylor. Designed by Grant Tilly.

Reviewed by Martin Edmond.

One could feel sad, almost resentful, to think we no longer have such manners, such society; and therefore lack also comic satires on those manners. We abandon formality in our social and personal relations and in so doing lose the habit of argument within limits, of by pointing out the absurdity of convention by use of convention. At best, we cannot express our disenchantment as elegantly as Moliere. Nor is our analysis so exquisitely pointed, so bitchy and witty in so fine a way, such a glitter. Perhaps, after all, what we lack is not the manners but the Moliere.

Yet this production, unlike so much of this years University Drama, is not second-best, not a handy stand-in for the real thing. It gives rather more than a taste of the brilliance, more than simple glitter—the full authentic flavour, light but substantial, is in the offering. Not exactly food for thought—I think the programme overstates the 'contemporary reference' of the production—but excellent entertainment nevertheless. We are attracted, above all, by the sheer visual brilliance of the presentation. Grant Tilly's set, a charming blend of formal elegance and voluptuous conceit, is a perfect garden for the flutterings of various brightly coloured and costumed social butterflies. It is adequate to such extremes as Alceste's passionate misanthropy and the pretty malevolant twitterings of Celimene, Clitandre and Acaste. In fact, the set and the costumes, which are every bit as good, are such a moneyed splendour, it would be no surprise if the actors could not act up to them. There are a few doubtful moments, but by and large they manage it.

Some of the credit here must go to an already highly praised translation by Tony Harrison. As far as I could tell, the entire play is done in to rhyming couplets, remaining; throughout fairly close to iambic pentameter. Most actors betrayed their unfamiliarity with verse delivery by a tendency towards singsong. Yet the verse itself, because of its chattiness and colloquial ease, tends to force the speaker away from doggeral delivery; while it does not lose its formal configuration nor pass up any chance of a 'bon mot'.

The other criticism I would make of the acting generally is, that most characters adopt what is called a low profile, thereby passing up any number of comic opportunities. They are so concerned with getting the words out right, they forget how much of an act and a comedy is in those words. Yet Stuart Devenie as Alceste states his mordant position forcefully enough, provoking the audience to both sympathy and ridicule. And Gillian Skyrme is charming and accomplished as his gay deceiver, Celimene. Of the others John Sones, Clitandre and Anne Budd, the bitter and malicious Arsinoe, deserve particular mention. Both got inside their roles and gave some currency to the wealth of barbed invective in their words; and showed an ability to use their faces and their bodies in the act. Bruce Phillips (Philinte) was somewhat colourless in a fairly colourless role; Penelope Syrme did little enough well enough, apart from one fine speech, delivered with grace and authority.

It remains only to compliment Anthony Taylor's direction, smooth and competant, unobtrusive. And to complain of the unforgivable hiatus somewhere in the second half, when the stage was unaccountably empty of people and the house lights on. Part two is somewhat faster, of more intensity; it was not aided by interruption. Finally, inevitably, to comment again on the visual attractiveness of the show, a kind of sheen and screen to hold against and before the hopeless deceits and petty malice the plot lays open.