Caught the Shakespeare Theatre’s staging of Molière’s Don Juan last night, in a new translation by the guest director, Stephen Wadsworth. From the liner notes, it seems Wadsworth thinks Don Juan’s paean to hypocrisy is “relevant” to American politics today, so I greatly feared the “translation” would include a lot of “updating” to bash the so-called religious right.
Fortunately, although it’s clear Wadsworth thinks the play is about the evils of Religion as such (I disagree), he’s a good enough director to let the play stand on its own, and there are no cheap shots. It’s gorgeously set and costumed in period style, and even the pre- and post-show “ballets” that were part of Molière’s theatre are included in a very respectable production.
Fortunately, although it’s clear Wadsworth thinks the play is about the evils of Religion as such (I disagree), he’s a good enough director to let the play stand on its own, and there are no cheap shots. It’s gorgeously set and costumed in period style, and even the pre- and post-show “ballets” that were part of Molière’s theatre are included in a very respectable production.
Jeremy Webb as Don Juan gives an adequate performance; he’s more effective delivering Don Juan’s cynical monologues defending his callous behavior than wooing women (a weakness of the show is that this Don Juan is not in the least bit charming). And Michael Milligan makes the interesting choice of playing Sganarelle (DJ’s servant) as knowing though uneducated, rather than as a fool. I’m not certain this interpretation finally works (half the play, Sganarelle is in costume as Dottore from commedia dell arte, and whoever heard of a wise Dottore?), but it was interesting and enjoyably played.
Two scenes stick out. In the first, fleeing the avenging brothers of a jilted lover, Don Juan and Sganarelle come upon a beggar in the forest. Don Juan, the complete cynic, who believes in nothing and lives entirely outside the law, decides to prove a point when the beggar promises to pray for him in exchange for alms. He offers the man a gold coin if he will curse God. Gold is a powerful incentive to a starving man, but he resists. When Don Juan gives him the coin anyway, he refuses it –the only person in the entire play whom Don Juan fails to either deceive or corrupt. (The beggar disproves the religion-is-bad thesis, but leave that be.)
At intermission, we were admiring how powerfully the scene had been played, and Mr. Wheat opined that if you had previously been charmed by Don Juan, the purpose of the scene was to show how truly wicked he is. “You can’t identify with him after that.” (Ah, but Mr. Wheat doesn’t know Washington, apparently. But let me not get ahead of myself).
In the second act, beset by creditors, hunted by avengers, haunted by a ghost, and about to be disinherited, Don Juan “repents.” Except he confesses to Sganarelle that he is going to feign repentance because he now sees the best way to live as he chooses is to pretend to be pious and censure everyone else. The monologue is a delicious repudiation of hypocrisy, but it is also deeply wicked –as his blood rises, Don Juan reveals more and more of his devious plans. I hated him more and more as he spoke.
To my horror, at the conclusion of this deliciously odious monologue, the audience burst into thunderous applause! Believe me, they were not merely applauding a fine performance; this was assent. I actually felt sickened. (Now that’s theater!)
I am still pondering whether this reaction reveals something uniquely corrupt about Washington, or the brilliance of Molière. By clapping at that monologue, the audience is signaling its disgust with hypocrites –“I’m not a hypocrite, and I hate people like that!” it says. (I have no doubt that in this crowd, the audience thought somehow it was rebuking someone. Bush? Pat Robertson?) Except: what could be more hypocritical than to claim virtue and allow Don Juan to be your spokesman? It’s like clapping for Jack the Ripper. It’s the height of irony that Molière tempts the audience to clap self-righteously for itself in response to a speech about the evils of the self-righteous.
Thereafter everyone comes to warn Don Juan that heaven will not tolerate his lifestyle much longer. His father. His wronged wife. The ghost of a man he murdered. A spirit. The Grim Reaper. You keep wondering why he doesn’t repent. But really, why should he? The audience, having also received all these warnings and seen his wickedness for itself, casts its lot with him through their applause.
And then Molière sends them in Don Juan’s person straight to hell at the play’s conclusion. You’d feel very bad leaving the theater if the play didn’t distract you from the implications of its ending with a hilarious last line.
So why does the audience, too, fall prey to Don Juan’s seduction? I don’t think they like Don Juan’s lifestyle. How does Molière get his way with us? Either Washington is especially corrupt; or, as I prefer to think, it simply means none of us especially likes looking too deeply at his own life, and there’s a special hatred in the human heart for anyone who tells us we can’t do exactly as we wish. I think Wadsworth is right, Don Juan is relevant to our times –but I suspect not for the reasons he thinks.
