A BONBON OF A PLAY
THE LIAR
Directed by David Greenham; written by Carlo Goldoni and adapted by David
Greenham and Bill Van Horn
With: Daniel Noel, Tommy Schoffler, Dustin Tucker, Gerald Browning, Jessica
Drizd, Kathryn Cleveland, Jeri Pitcher, Janis Stevens, Chuck Novatka, Andrew
Towler, Chris Powers, Dennis Price
In repertory at The Theater at Monmouth in Monmouth, Maine
From July 9 to August 21, 2004
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
Allow me, if you will, to begin this review with a slight digression. In one
way or another for the past two weeks, I have been caught up with The Maine
International Film Festival held in Waterville, Maine. I saw twenty-seven
movies in ten days and wrote about every single one of them as well as brief
descriptions of the goings-on at the festival. After that came the editing,
slow, tedious work that nevertheless requires sharp attention, a quality I
sorely lacked after the ten-day film marathon.
Coming on the heels of all this brouhaha were reservations to The Liar,
a play at The Theater At Monmouth. Thanking the gods that it wasn’t the
night for Antony & Cleopatra, I nevertheless prayed that The Liar
would be a bonbon of a play—light, sweet, and satisfying. As it turned out,
the gods were smiling on me that night, and my prayers were more than
answered. Not only was The Liar a bonbon of a play, but it was also
one of the funniest plays I have seen in a very long time, and the pace was
so brisk and rollicking that I didn’t look at my watch even once. In fact, I
was surprised by how soon the intermission seemed to come.
The Liar, written in the 1700s, is commedia dell’arte, which
the writer Jacques Barzun describes as a “slapstick comic play with
traditional characters, improvised on the stage, along predictable lines.”
In such a play, there is little doubt of a happy ending, and the pleasure is
in the journey rather than in the destination. Most of the characters are
asses, and it is great fun watching them get in and out of trouble.
In Monmouth’s production of The Liar, David Greenham and Bill Van
Horn, who adapted the play, apparently took “slapstick” to heart. Not only
did they ramp up the pacing, but they also blended old slapstick with new
slapstick, peppering the play with anachronisms ranging from Groucho Marx to
Kit-Kat chocolate bars to martinis. There are dangers in such a mix, which
can at times make a performance feel precious and contrived, but Greenham
and Van Horn rocketed past the dangers to create their own zany brand of
commedia dell’arte transplanted to the twenty-first century.
The chief asses in The Liar are Lelio Bisgnosi (Tommy Schoffler) and
his servant Arlecchino (Dustin Tucker). This master/servant pairing is a
standard device of such plays, a combination of high and low, with the
master not always coming out on top. Lelio is the titular liar whose
philosophy in life is “there’s no risk in spinning tales. Only benefits.” In
this production, Tommy Schoffler plays Lelio as an unrepentant flimflam man,
a “step right up” kind of guy who spins tales not only for benefit but also
for the sheer joy of it. He is a trickster at heart, and he will never
change. Arlecchino, his servant, is torn between admiration and dismay.
Sometimes he tries to put the skids on Lelio’s reckless lying; other times
he tries to imitate his master. However, there is only one Lelio, and
Arlecchino fails miserably when he tries to fabricate his own big fish
stories.
The play opens with Lelio and Arlecchino as they flee from a previous
misadventure involving a jilted lover and stolen money, and they return to
Venice, their hometown, so to speak. For anyone else, this would be
something of an ignominious retreat, but not so for Lelio, who sees a silver
lining in every lie. No sooner can you say “big trouble in Canal City” than
Lelio has landed on his feet and lied his way into the hearts of Rosaura
(Jessica Drizd) and Beatrice (Kathryn Cleveland), two sisters whose father
just so happens to be friends with Lelio’s father. However, Lelio has been
gone so long that few people in Venice recognize him. Because of this, Lelio
manages to convince the sisters that he is a Marquis on the hunt for a wife,
and they are all too willing to believe him.
Supporting asses in this play are Ottavio (Chuck Novatka), a bombastic but
educated gondolier who is in love with Beatrice; Florindo (Andrew Towler), a
nerdy student in love with Rosaura but who can’t get up enough courage to
even speak to her, much less tell her how he feels; Pantalone (Daniel Noel),
Lelio’s cheapskate father; and Dr. Balonzoni (Gerald Browning), Rosaura’s
and Beatrice’s dry but ambitious father. The characters collide, fight,
love, work at cross-purposes, and generally create an atmosphere of merry
anarchy as Lelio’s lies become a net that entangles them all. Because three
men compete for two women, not everyone is paired by the end of the play.
Not to worry. This is a comedy. Moralists might not be exactly satisfied
with the ending, but those who honor their inner trickster will like it just
fine.
With appropriate zest and enthusiasm, all the actors threw themselves into
this play. However three performances did stand out.
First was Dustin Tucker, who played the servant Arlecchino. Spoilsports
might say that Tucker, at times, overacted and went too far with the
grimaces and facial contortions. I suppose they have a point, although in a
play this broad and over-the-top, overacting is less of a sin than it might
be in a more subtle comedy. Overacting or not, Tucker completely redeemed
himself in one of the funniest scenes that I have ever had the pleasure to
watch in a play. Sitting at a café with a couple who had been recruited from
the audience, Tucker proceeded to steal food from their sandwiches—tomato,
onion, and lettuce. Upon dropping the tomato on the floor, Tucker retrieved
it, dunked the tomato in his glass of water, and then ate it. Into the water
went the rest of his food, and he washed it as fastidiously as a raccoon
does before eating. Tucker upstaged poor Pantalone, who was giving some sort
of speech (I was laughing so hard I didn’t hear a word of it). The man
behind me was laughing in such great snorts that I thought he was going to
choke. However, the laughter only seemed to be coming from our side of the
theater, and as the café was tucked on one edge of the stage, I suspect we
were the only ones who could really see what was going on. As my daughter
Shannon observed, the rest of the house must have thought we had lost our
minds. And, in a way, we had.
Second was Chuck Novatka, who played the oily, ardent Ottavio, the only
character who had an Italian accent. Novatka had such an intense presence
that my eye was drawn to him whenever he was onstage. To me, he seemed like
a comic combination of Fred Willard and Kevin Kline, clueless with an
accent. However, my daughter Shannon thinks this a little unfair, that he is
much better looking than either Willard or Kline. Perhaps, but there are
worse actors with which to be compared.
Finally, there was Tommy Schoffler. I have been coming to The Theater At
Monmouth long enough to observe that over the years, there is occasionally
an actor who has such spark and promise that it seems reasonable to suppose
that he or she will go on to bigger stages and brighter lights. Maryann
Plunkett, David Harbour, and David DelGrosso immediately come to mind, and I
expect that Tommy Schoffler is also such an actor. He slips into his roles
with such ease and grace that it hardly seems as though he is acting. To
make something hard look easy is one of the most difficult things in the
world, and it is something most good artists strive for. Schoffler has this
ability, and although it is no guarantee of success, it is most certainly a
valuable asset.
What a splendid evening! I entered the theater a tired woman and left
feeling refreshed and energized. Comedy did its job, and as a final treat,
there was even a guest appearance by Contessa the pug, who played Crabbe
last year in The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Who could ask for anything
more?
