Moliere Makes Triumphant Return

            If you liked Dodgeball, look to Moliere's The Miser as a trailblazer in the abuse of deus ex machina. Directed by Dan Zisson, and playing in The Bouwerie Lane Theatre until March 15, this energetically, thoughtfully executed, High-Renaissance farce concerns itself, of course, with a pinch-penny and his childrens' plots to wrest something-anything-out of his dearly kept purse. Along the way, the miser wishes to marry his daughter to a rich, old widower, his son to a rich, old widow, and himself to a sweet-stepping young virgin; a fast-talking steward waxes honest, an honest cook-and-coachman trades his frankness for duplicity, and everyone (duh) lives happily ever after.

            The small theater complements the staging aptly, lavender ceiling and cracked murals of pastures and Hellenistic ruins. Like the miser, it is the very picture of frugal grace. On stage there are ramshackle partitions, rusty pipes, and handsome iron lawn-furniture. Often, the actors used the same back-entrance the audience had used, which makes sense when taken with the director's perhaps unwise choice to have the fourth wall taken out back and shot some time in the second act. Most of the miser's exits through that back door were to check on his money-as of a mother tending to a sleeping child-which he had buried in the yard (all of it) at the beginning of the first act.

            The acting, which painted the farce well, was either ridiculously understated (the miser's daughter, his young match and some of the servants) or ridiculously overblown (everyone else). Of particular interest were the miser himself, (Angus Hepburn), whose stoop-backed cantankerousness were reminiscent of a Max Bialystock, and the matchmaker (Lorinda Lisitza) who had an inexhaustible supply of handkerchiefs in her inexhaustible bosom. She played the game that underlies this play better than any, seeming really to choose between masks as the situation demanded. Most of the characters, as is often the case in a farce, were two-dimensional, so it is not fair to accuse the actors of lacking nuance. The steward (Albert Aeed) and the cook (Mickey Ryan), the most interesting of the supporting characters, did a good job of switching between trickery and honesty and vice versa, and the son (Seth Duerr) played his rouge-cheeked "oh, father I wish I were dead!" role with infectious energy.

            As with the anachronisms in otherwise period renditions of Shakespeare, the Cocteau's version of The Miser was riddled with modernisms designed to clash with the antique atmosphere. The music between sets added to this, a mix of The Beatles, funk, and many other 20th century styles, rather than the Lully which would have accompanied the action in its day. The real madness began when the miser staggered out into the audience, demanding his stolen money from the audience. And yet the fourth wall wasn't completely broken: an audience of children would have responded to his pleas, but here, none answered his questions except to laugh uproariously.

            The accents affected by the cast were all very dignified, a director's choice which had many effects. It placed the action in its proper old world setting, but also made the dialogue somewhat monotonous-sounding to the ear-particularly so because there were many different social classes on stage. As their wills clashed, so should their accents. In this, the voice of the miser was a reprieve: his cantankerous whine made music against the backdrop of the less-differentiated voices. And his coughing fits which proceded choking out the word "give" were a pleasure to watch.

            This production, which had no weak links either in the acting or the production, should come highly recommended. And the code for a 20% discount at Ticket Central (212-279-4200) is MIPC.