Recently my husband and I were invited to a reception to honor and meet Hillary Clinton; it was to be held Tuesday evening, September 21, 1999 in Westport. I sadly had to refuse this offer because of my obligation to review the first play of the Yale Repertory season, Moliere's The Imaginary Invalid, a comedie-ballet in three acts, with music by Marc-Antoine Charpentier. This production boasts a new translation/adaptation by James Magruder, direction by Mark Rucker, and original music and arrangements composed by Gina Leishman. Margruder translated Marivaux's The Triumph of Love and wrote the book for the musical of the same name that lasted a short while on Broadway.
Moliere's comedies, ribald, wry and robust, are delights. Magruder, like many a cook, translates with a heavy hand, coarsening the 18th Century The Imaginary Invalid, by using words like "crap." He adds an interval with music of the 20th Century, albeit performed with a quirky charm by Danny Scheie, that does not make any particular sense. The set design underscores this point of view, by placing a bathroom-outhouse as the only permanent piece of furniture on stage. (The design itself, bright yellow walls with large panels that open both ways, is fine.) It is only when the company is allowed to return to the original text that the play entertains with Moliere's elan.
Raye Birk is a substantial Argan, rolling around in his electric wheelchair, the greatest hypochondriac of all time. Argan's suffering, due to the great number of enemas, shots and pills he takes for bad blood, phlegm, yellow and black bile, prescribed by his doctor, Purgon (Paul Mullins), is all the more incredible, since Moliere, who had been accused of being a malingerer, was himself very ill when he wrote this play. Yet, he manages to poke fun at himself and doctors and medicine through this character. Veanne Cox is a feisty Toinette, the servant girl who controls a good deal of the action. She is especially effective in the role of the young male doctor, a device invented to jolt Argan out of his imaginary illnesses. Jennifer Brooke Riker as Angelique, his lovely daughter, and Susan Marie Brecht as Beline, his second wife, are fine. Jay Snyder as Cleante, Angelique's beau, and John Wojda as Argan's worried brother, Beralde, stay true to character.
But it is Brennan Brown, a third year student at the Yale Drama School, who, with expressive brown eyes and perfect timing, captures the truly comic spirit of Thomas Diafoirus, the idiotic young man, a graduate of medical school, who, much to Angelique's dismay, has been betrothed to her in an arranged match. Imagine the shock and surprise, when, at the end of the play, following a funny scene where Argan is given a fake medical degree administered in Pig Latin, the back of the stage opens and accompanied by the theme song from the film, "2001," Hillary Clinton in blond wig and a fluorescent pink pants suit appears out of the blue. Was it really Hillary? Of course not; she was being wined and dined by Paul and Joanne (Woodward). This was James Magruder's imagination gone amock.
Along with the phony Mrs. Rodham-Clinton were four pretty and scantily-clad young women, who acted out a sketch appropriate for "Saturday night Live." The only thing they didn't do was ask for donations.
In 1673, Moliere, who was playing the lead part of Argon in Invalid, fell ill during the fourth performance, and died soon after. If he had seen this production, I doubt he'd have made it through the first night! This is the kind of irresponsibility that has permeated the program under Stan Wojewodski, Jr.'s ninth year as artistic director.
