Moliére meets Michael Jackson
Director Todd Salovey resurrects French comedy
Play Review
Issue date: 2/5/98 Section: Arts
If comedy is timing, then the San Diego Rep's production of the "Imaginary Invalid" is the funniest thing to hit San Diego since the Padres stadium proposal.
Monsieur Jean Baptiste Poquelin ‹ best known as Moliére, the father of modern comedy ‹ would be overjoyed with the Rep's rendition of his classic commentary on the medical profession and people's zany dependency on it. The set is bright and marvelous, the material updated, and best of all, the cast bounces magic off each other: They get spastic breakdowns and even have a Michael Jackson moonwalk down to perfect timing. And the crowd roars.
The hilarity is centered around Argan (Ron Campbell), a wealthy man who insists on his 20 enemas a month ‹ prescribed by his "credible" physician Dr. Purgon ‹ to "soften, moisten, refresh, flush, irrigate and scowl the bowels." He pops pills like candy and gets waited on hand and foot by his two dancing nurses (performed with fluidity and grace by Renee Larsen and Dana Perri of San Diego's Eveoke Dance Theatre).
The catch: There's nothing wrong with him. Argan is as healthy as his rambunctious daughters, Angelique and Louison.
Campbell is an authentic Argan ‹ he spits and sputters to uproarious proportions, checking his tongue for any sign of disease and tilting his rump in the air for his daily "irrigations," like an eager seal awaiting fish. Bravo to costume designer Brandin Baron who put him in hosiery braces, bloomers and an oversized, gaudy cigar robe.
Another noteworthy performance is Sandra Le Beauf's‹ as Beline ‹ Argan's young, money-hungry wife who's waiting for her husband to croak so she can roll around in his dough with her attorney (yet another defined, farcical character). Le Beauf's ticket is exaggerated, slapstick comedy. She executes this performance with more success than her 1996 San Diego Rep's "Streetcar Named Desire" performance as an overly gangly Stella.
Lamont D. Thompson plays dual parts as the enema master and Monsieur Fleurant; at one point Thompson steals the stage to deliver side-splitting evangelism, think Arsenio Hall introducing Sexual Chocolate in "Coming to America."
Monsieur Jean Baptiste Poquelin ‹ best known as Moliére, the father of modern comedy ‹ would be overjoyed with the Rep's rendition of his classic commentary on the medical profession and people's zany dependency on it. The set is bright and marvelous, the material updated, and best of all, the cast bounces magic off each other: They get spastic breakdowns and even have a Michael Jackson moonwalk down to perfect timing. And the crowd roars.
The hilarity is centered around Argan (Ron Campbell), a wealthy man who insists on his 20 enemas a month ‹ prescribed by his "credible" physician Dr. Purgon ‹ to "soften, moisten, refresh, flush, irrigate and scowl the bowels." He pops pills like candy and gets waited on hand and foot by his two dancing nurses (performed with fluidity and grace by Renee Larsen and Dana Perri of San Diego's Eveoke Dance Theatre).
The catch: There's nothing wrong with him. Argan is as healthy as his rambunctious daughters, Angelique and Louison.
Campbell is an authentic Argan ‹ he spits and sputters to uproarious proportions, checking his tongue for any sign of disease and tilting his rump in the air for his daily "irrigations," like an eager seal awaiting fish. Bravo to costume designer Brandin Baron who put him in hosiery braces, bloomers and an oversized, gaudy cigar robe.
Another noteworthy performance is Sandra Le Beauf's‹ as Beline ‹ Argan's young, money-hungry wife who's waiting for her husband to croak so she can roll around in his dough with her attorney (yet another defined, farcical character). Le Beauf's ticket is exaggerated, slapstick comedy. She executes this performance with more success than her 1996 San Diego Rep's "Streetcar Named Desire" performance as an overly gangly Stella.
Lamont D. Thompson plays dual parts as the enema master and Monsieur Fleurant; at one point Thompson steals the stage to deliver side-splitting evangelism, think Arsenio Hall introducing Sexual Chocolate in "Coming to America."
