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Hello Readers! Student Forum’s back with critiques of the Department of Theatre and Dance’s production of Molière, courtesy of Neil Baldwin’s Play Script Interpretation Class. Here’s one from Ally Blumenfeld, with two more in tow by Gillian Holmes and Hillery Brotschol: read on!

-Sara Wintz

“It’s only theater,” proclaims young Armande, the lover of infamous playwright Molière, moments before he steps forward into the white spotlights and passionate applause.

How incredible it is that a play should toy with the very nature of theater and reality, and at the same time leave me thinking in the moment that the lights went up and the actors ended their enthusiastic curtain call, “This is why I love theater.” How incredible indeed — that a play better classified as a workshop, that made use of no elaborate sets or costumes, that consisted mostly of fervent, fiery, masterfully-delivered dialogue and chilling moments of silence heavy with the weight of significance — that a play such as Molière could be performed by actors-in-training at Montclair State University with such powerfulness and profundity that it left me so inspired I might have floated back to my residence hall.

From the first moment of the first act, as we watched the company spin around and spring to theatrical life, there was created a sort of electricity that ran vigorously but not unchecked until the final blackout. It is the hugely impressive and infinitely talented cast that perpetuated this current of excitement tangled with tension for the duration of the near-three-hour show. The best performances, although all of them noteworthy, were those of a stirring Philip Corso as Racine and an impeccable Dustin Fontaine as Molière. “Racine — gripping from the first moment!” I scrawled in the dark, without looking down at my notebook. Corso slipped seamlessly into Racine’s skin with every word, stutter and twitch. And the performance of Fontaine as the titular character was anything but forgettable. He could go from playful to heartbroken in one glance, in one moment, in one clench of the jaw. His strangled ferocity coupled with Corso’s vibrant energy created one of the most dynamic rivalries/friendships I’ve ever seen onstage.

The rest of the flawless cast included a hilarious Aaron Kaplan as King Louis XIV, whose smart timing offered fresh comic relief. Keri Costa was subtle and superb in an understated performance as Molière’s wife Madeleine. As the villainous Archbishop, David Marconi delivered a believable performance as the manipulative leader of the crusade to end Molière’s laughter. For the sake of brevity, I will not describe every performance, but let it be known that I was duly impressed with each and every actor. They demonstrated a great command and understanding of the script, which is, albeit, a rather involved examination of the substantial topic that is theatre.

Molière is playwright Sabina Berman’s attempt to bring to light the “enmity between Comedy and Tragedy,” as she is quoted in dramaturg Natalie Holmes’s program note. What I understood to be the overhanging theme of this production of Molière was the fluidity between theater and reality and the fine line between the two. “If only one could act truthfully in real life,” Racine remarks. Both Racine and Molière stage plays to reveal the certain truths; this metatheatrical display leaves us wondering about the truth of theater and the falsity of real life, all while we are watching a play showing us a truth of its own.

This production relied heavily on its actors to bring the story to life. The lack of scenery and minimality of the costumes and props was brilliantly pulled off by director Debbie Saivetz. What better way to convey the seamless nature of theater/life and truth/untruth by inviting the audience to conspire with the characters through demolishing the fourth wall? We forget where the stage ends and our seats begin, where Lully’s generator stops laughing and our own laughter begins, whether we share in Molière’s “frivolous optimism” or in Racine’s buffoonery, whether we ourselves are comedies or tragedies, or just observers of them. The choice to have the actors never leave the stage also had riveting effects: they became spectators as they sat and reacted like audience members. They mirrored us in this way, and even when they’d stand and walk right into character, we remain connected with them, we became them. We are what we see played out before us, and right there is the crux of the entire thing: contrary to the Archbishop’s skewed idea, theater truly depicts life as it is.

Only theater indeed.


Ally Blumenfeld is a sophomore creative writing major. This critique was written for Neil Baldwin’s Play Script Interpretation class.