Les Liaisons Dangereuses
Austin Playhouse, through Feb. 24
Running time: 2 hrs, 45 mins
Christopher Hampton’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses, adapted from the novel of the same title, is a brilliantly written play – a tragedy masquerading as a comedy of manners. The language is delicious to hear, and the characters’ machinations are fun to watch. Underneath its shiny surface, this world is savage. In the end, every single character is destroyed in one dark way or another. Austin Playhouse’s lively production makes for a satisfying night at the theatre. The gorgeous costumes, the harpsichord intervals, and the smart set feed together into a world that exposes the cruelty of a mannered culture. Although some of the script’s nuances are lost, all the broad strokes are in place.
Set in Paris in the 1780s, the play centers around the relationship between the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte to Valmont, two born plotters. When we meet them, they are devising their next schemes. Merteuil hopes to get revenge on a former lover, while Valmont aspires to ruin a virtuous woman. Over the course of the play, their plots weave together, and they are both partners and opponents. One brilliant aspect of the script is the way it makes the audience complicit in the schemers’ crimes. In one scene, a young virgin is essentially raped by Valmont, leaving us horrified by him and by the scenario. In the very next scene, however, Merteuil convinces the girl (and the audience) that this is a good thing, that in the end she will find great freedom in the arts of lovemaking and deceit. We find ourselves accepting things that should not be accepted. Such is often the case when the hero and heroine of a play are also the villains. They take pleasure in the destruction of lives, scoring each new victory against their previous conquests. Ultimately, Valmont and Merteuil are not above the effects of their own games. In discovering his own capacity to love, Valmont sets in motion his eventual (and bizarrely sudden) death. Like a cockroach, Merteuil is one of the few creatures left standing after everything has been destroyed, but one gets the sense that she has not made herself happy.
The direction by Don and Lara Toner creates a cohesive world. The elaborate costumes by Buffy Manners match the set, which is sparse but well-employed. The few pieces of furniture and a changing backdrop serve to create many different settings. The result is a monochromatic mural of manners – little splashes of color here and there, but mostly one big cage. The cast is strong, and though there was some fumbling of the language on opening night, overall the actors live very comfortably and believably in this other world. Babs George plays Merteuil, and the production rests happily on her shoulders. She is so vibrant and ruthless, even in silence, that it is hard to take your eyes off her. As Valmont, Gray Haddock is improbably charming. His wig is a mess, and he is not confident in his posturing, but what Haddock lacks in physical prowess, he makes up for in verbal skill, being at total ease with the language. As the virtuous Tourvel, Janet Hurley Kimlicko is powerful in her piety. The minor roles in this play are well-cast and well-fulfilled. Jessie Tilton, who plays Cecile, the bubbly doomed virgin, is lovely in both her joy and her sadness. Danceny, played by David Gallagher, is breathlessly eager to be Cecile’s lover. In minor roles, Amber Dupuy is deft with the language, Ben Wolfe provides great comic relief, and Mary Agen Cox is an anchor of sobriety in this volatile world of whims.
The only shortcomings are in the nuances of the intricate script. Haddock nails the rakish aspects of Valmont, but the character lacks sincerity, and Valmont’s sincerity is a hinge for some major plot twists. Similarly, Hurley Kimlicko’s Tourvel is so extreme in her virtue as to be sexless, making it hard to buy her free fall into sin. However, Hampton’s script is strong enough to provide the total picture. There are some jaw-droppingly eloquent lines. In a fierce monologue about the role to which women are condemned in society, Merteuil says, “I learned how to look cheerful while under the table I stuck a fork into the back of my hand.” When breaking the heart of a victim, Valmont says, “I just can’t bring myself to regret leaving you.” There’s nothing like a well-phrased dagger to the heart. Austin Playhouse’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses provides a pleasurable escape from our world of straight talk and minimal etiquette. But what one finds is that etiquette is a most dangerous weapon.
This article appears in January 25 • 2008.