“The Imaginary Invalid” at New World Stages (Photo: Carol Rosegg)
A laugh a minute is no exaggeration in Red Bull Theater’s The Imaginary Invalid, a vibrant new production of Molière’s farce that first thrilled audiences in 1673. In Jeffrey Hatcher’s deft adaptation, the play is shorter, broader, and possibly a good deal lewder than the original. The production is also stuffed full of side-splitting performances by a charming ensemble of actors. Taking acerbic aim at the medical profession, and hypochondria the play is as relevant and pointed today as when it first appeared. Furthermore, the modern “period” set and costumes bring a colorful blast to this play that is an instant pick-me-up for whatever ails you.
Broadway veteran Mark Linn-Baker brings a lovable twinkle to the role of Argan, the “Invalid” of the title, who is convinced he is at death’s door and has the medical bills to prove that, so far, no doctor has managed to cure his mysterious malaise. As the play opens, he is seated in a throne-like examination chair replete with gold ormolu pedestal, green velvet upholstery, and a variety of positions from upright to prone. The chair also swivels and is on wheels – details that will be used to hilarious effect throughout the play. He is dressed in voluminous, green-striped pajamas, natty nightcap, and pink velvet slippers. The colors and styles of all the costumes have a cheeky élan thanks to designer Tilly Grimes. In his hand is a sheaf of bills from his doctors, charging him outrageous sums for their services. As the appreciative groans from the audience indicate, some things never change.
But Argan has a plan to mitigate his medical costs: marry his daughter, Angelique, to a doctor. He explains this scheme to Toinette, his maid, played by a feisty Sarah Stiles dressed in cargo pants and corset, and frilly 17th century style collar – a costume that nimbly bridges the gap between period drama and the present. The backdrop has a similar edgy vibe. The scenic design by Beowulf Borritt, with its delicious clashing purple and pink rococo “panelling” pays homage to the original author with two portraits of Molière.
In true farce tradition, much of the action revolves around the rapid entrance and exit of a whirling cast of characters. Béline (an arch Emily Swallow) is Argan’s conniving new wife. She is plotting with her lover and lawyer, De Bonnefoi, to foil the nuptials of Argan’s daughter so that she can pocket his fortune. Manoel Feliciano is suitably oleaginous and lecherous by turns. However, Argan’s daughter, the winsome Emilie Kouatchou, has other plans. She has her sights set on Cleante (a mint-green-Converse-high-top-wearing John Yi), posing as her music teacher. The music “lesson” gives rise to some sidesplitting “improvised” songs when Argan suddenly asks the pair to perform for his guests. Cleante re-writes the lyrics of some famous Broadway classics on the fly with some absurd lyrics about goats leading to a show-stopping reinterpretation of an anthem from Les Misérables.
All of this plays out against the frequent doctors’ visits. A trio of quack physicians are treating Argan with ever more ludicrous prescriptions. Without spoiling the plot, the cures they administer for his worst symptom, an aching backside, lead to much slapstick humor. All three doctors are portrayed by the versatile Arnie Burton. As Dr Diafoirus, he is father to the budding surgeon Argan has chosen for his daughter’s hand. Perhaps the funniest moment in the play – and there are so many it is hard to be objective – is the entrance of Thomas Diafoirus. Russell Daniels is ideally cast as this giant of a man dressed in an age-inappropriate sailor’s suit. His medical credentials will soon be called into question as he squirms through his attempt at a diagnosis.
As farces should, the action ratchets up with more madcap medical moments and a good deal of mistaken identity, rampant implausibility, and fast opening and closing of doors. Jesse Berger’s direction is pitch perfect throughout. It all adds up to a happy ending and a joyful, cathartic romp that refreshes an old classic with style, sass, and jokes that have stood the test of time, proving that laughter is never out of fashion.