In 1664, Molière’s 'Tartuffe' was taboo because it exposed an inconvenient truth: pious men of the cloth were often hypocrites; public proponents of purity with privately pornographic predilections.
The original text is no longer a biting exposé of unspoken truth. We are a nation in which a Royal Commission is busily dissecting sexual abuse by the clergy. A modernisation of 'Tartuffe' was essential to shock and confront a public inoculated with over 300 years of Catholic Church scandals.
Phillip Kavanagh’s adaptation for the State Theatre Company and Brink Productions brings the shock and scandal with such heavy hands that the social commentary is almost entirely lost.
Image © Kate PardeyA playwright adapting 'Tartuffe' with the aim of replicating the impact of the original production upon 17th century France has two obvious options: identify and satirise unspoken and uncomfortable truths within the modern status-quo, or simply dial up the blasphemy and sexual lewdness to 11. Kavanagh attempts both options, but mainly the latter. He does none-too-subtly exposit the contemporary relevance of the play, in which Nathan O’Keefe (as Tartuffe and as himself), panders to the crowd with jibes about Donald Trump and the conga line of failed Australian Prime Ministers.
The playwright ultimately and joyously stumbles down the lower road, however, delivering chuckles aplenty with a humour that certainly would shock and offend the wowsers, but bores the rest once the novelty has worn off.
Image © Kate PardeyIt is undeniable that there is much humour within Kavanagh’s 'Tartuffe', but most of it is of the cheap and dirty variety; the type that can be obtained from a night watching a Charlie Sheen marathon in your housemate’s underpants. There is one gag repeated ad nauseam: the juxtaposition between the classic text and modern Australiana. The audience laughs, partly because of the incongruity. By delivering a patchwork of skits, though, the pathos of the work is almost entirely lost.
Jacqy Phillips’ Doreen is an amalgam of an inmate from ‘Prisoner’ and Irene from ‘Home and Away’. Her physicality and comic timing is a delight. The same can be said of Guy O’Grady’s interpretation of the naïve goofball Damis.
Image © Kate PardeyMuch of the cast shone in act one when the laughs were flying, but when the plane came in to land, it was revealed that all coherence had been jettisoned somewhere along the way.
Such treatment could perhaps be forgiven with an original work, as credit would be given for the devising of the premise. When riding upon the coattails of giants such as Molière, however, an audience is entitled to expect more.
