Tartuffe Education Pack

Education Pack to accompany The Watermill Theatre’s 2006 production of Molière’s Tartuffe at The Watermill Theatre and on tour. Contents

Page 2 Contents and Introduction Pages 3-4 About Molière – Robert Cohen Page 5 The Plays of Molière Page 6 Interview with Ranjit Bolt, translator and adaptor Page 7 French Resource: From Molière’s Preface to Tartuffe Page 8-9 Interview with Joseph Chance, Damis Pages 10-12 In the Shadow of the Sun King – Elaine Peake Pages 13-15 Interview with Jonathan Munby, director

Introduction

This education pack is designed to complement your trip to see our 2006 production of Tartuffe. All the text is designed to be easily photocopiable. You will find information and exercises aimed at students of Drama and French. If you have any comments on either the show or the education pack please email them to me at [email protected] .

Will Wollen Assistant Outreach Director The Watermill Theatre

2 About Molière

Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, known to the world as Molière, was born in 1622, the son of a wealthy tapestry merchant. He was educated by the Jesuits at the College de Clermont, studied under the great Epicurean philosopher and scientist Gassendi, and finally trained to be a lawyer.

He had little enthusiasm for his studies, preferring to spend his time visiting the theatre. His law career ended in 1642, when he met the actors Joseph and Madeleine Béjart, and the following year he rejected the position which his father had set up for him at court, changed his name to Molière and ran away with the Béjarts to form a theatre company, the Illustre Théâtre. His only success, though, was in an affair with Madeleine; his stage performances earned him nothing but bankruptcy and brief imprisonment for the company’s debts.

Undeterred, and bailed out by his father, Molière joined Charles Dufresne’s company. Under the patronage of the Duke of Epernon, he spent the next 12 years touring the south of France, building a reputation as a comic actor and eventually taking over the troupe. He had ambitions to be a great tragic actor, but provincial audiences demanded comedy, so it was during this period that he wrote his earliest surviving plays, three farces influenced by the Italian commedia dell’arte : The Blunderer , Lovers’ Quarrels and The Flying Doctor .

On 24 October 1658, the company performed Corneille’s Nicomède at the Louvre for the court of the young King Louis XIV. The audience was unimpressed, and in a bid to rescue the evening, Molière presented one of his own farces. The gamble worked: King Louis authorised the company’s establishment at the Théâtre du Petit-Bourbon in Paris, and his 18-year-old brother, the Duke of Anjou, became the company’s protector.

Public acclaim for Molière came with the premiere of The Affected Ladies, followed in 1660 by Sganarelle . The triumph of the latter was overshadowed, however, first by criticism that Molière’s works were too lightweight, and then by the sudden, unannounced closure and demolition of the Petit-Bourbon Theatre by the King’s chief architect. The King, though, quickly installed the company in his own theatre at the Palais-Royal. In 1661, Molière wrote a tragedy, Don Garcia of Navarre , which he considered his finest work, but its subsequent rejection by the public hurt him deeply and he never tackled the genre again.

Shortly afterwards, The School for Wives provoked a war of words and pamphlets from the actors of the rival Hôtel de Burgogne. The story—of an old bachelor who brings up his ward in complete seclusion, hoping to make her his own obedient wife—gave the anti-Molière faction priceless propaganda. The playwright had married a bride 20 years his junior, Armande Béjart, who was officially the sister of her husband’s old flame Madeleine, but rumour had it that the two women were actually mother and daughter. Some even went as far as to suggest that Molière was the father of his bride. Fortunately for him, the King seemed quite unperturbed by these stories, and, in 1663, expressed his approval of Molière’s work by granting him a pension, the first ever bestowed on an actor. The next January, he stood godfather to the happy couple’s first child, Louis.

But the year 1664, when Tartuffe received its royal premiere at Versailles, was not a good one. The play went down very nicely among the courtiers, but the Church’s leading hypocrites—notably the Jansenist sect—were not slow to recognise their reflections in this vicious satire on religious hypocrisy. Under their influence, the King reluctantly banned the play from public performance. Molière’s humiliation was quickly compounded by grief when, on 10 November 1664, the baby Louis died.

3 The following year brought another, though less serious, run in with the Church, this time over Don Juan . Although the play ends with its cynical, decadent hero being consigned to the flames of hell, the holy ones objected to some of his earlier speeches, which condemned others’ hypocrisy with a powerful and eloquent logic. However, the complainants failed to obtain a ban on this occasion, and Molière was free to take aim at another target: the medical profession.

Love’s the Best Doctor ridiculed the incompetence and quackery which (in the dramatist’s opinion) was all- pervasive among doctors of the time, and which they sought to cover up with their pompous attitudes and astronomical fees. It was a subject to which he would keep returning, notably in The Doctor Despite Himself and The Hypochondriac . In the meantime, the success of Love’s the Best Doctor was followed by a happy medical event for the playwright—the birth of a daughter, Esprit Madeleine—and an equally happy financial one, which saw the King bestow his personal protection on Molière’s company. “The King’s Troupe at the Palais-Royal” were now to receive 6,000 livres annual pension.

However, Molière’s fortunes continued to be frustratingly mixed. The Misanthrope and The Miser , today considered two of his greatest achievements, were both unsuccessful when first performed. The Misanthrope , which premiered at the Palais-Royal in June 1666, was hampered from the start by a lack of support from the King, who was mourning the recent death of his wife. Many of those who did see it, however, were unsatisfied by the tale of Alceste’s love for the coquettish young widow Célimène: there was felt to be too much philosophy and not enough action. What’s more, it failed despite the kind of sensational casting which today would ensure maximum publicity in the pages of the tabloids. Molière played Alceste to Armande’s Célimène, at a time when their off-stage marriage was on the rocks and they were living apart. Eliante was played by Catherine de Brie, the original Agnès in The School for Wives and currently the playwright’s mistress; and in the role of Arsinoe was Mlle du Parc, one of Molière’s unsuccessful conquests.

The following year, 1667, another chapter in the convoluted history of Tartuffe was opened and swiftly shut. A revised version was premiered on 5 August, and on 6 August the play was banned once more, this time by the Parliamentary President. For good measure, the Archbishop of Paris issued a decree against this “very dangerous” play, prohibiting all people in his diocese from presenting it, or “from reading it or hearing it read, either in public or in private, under whatever name or pretext, on pain of excommunication”.

It was to be another two years before the King worked up the courage to defy the Church, but finally, in 1669, a royal decree was issued, allowing for the resumption of Tartuffe . The re-opening at the Palais-Royal was triumphant, perhaps the crowning triumph of Molière’s career, for, not only was it a roaring success with the paying public, but it also represented a great victory over the powerful forces of the Church.

It was to be his last great victory. Although Molière continued to write and act with his usual vigour, and although he enjoyed successes with The Bourgeois Gentleman (1670—another attack on the pretensions of the middle classes) and The Learned Ladies (1672), his last few years brought him little happiness. His health was in decline, due to the effects of overwork on an already fragile constitution; his marriage was dealt another unwelcome blow when his third child was born in September 1672, only to die a few days later; and, as plebeian audiences began to dwindle, the King, one of the few constants in his life, decided to withdraw his support from “The King’s Troupe”.

Molière opened his final play, The Hypochondriac , on 10 February 1673. The subject of the play, being another attack on the medical profession, was highly appropriate, as he was clearly dying even as he acted. His persistent coughing added to the comic reality, and during the fourth performance of the run, he suffered a convulsion, which he disguised as a grimace. Professional to the last, he struggled through to the end of the performance, before being taken home. He died later that night on 17 February 1673.

As soon as the curtain had fallen on Molière’s life, the final act in his battle with the Church was acted out. Owing to a longstanding tradition which forbade the burial of actors in consecrated ground, the holy hypocrites very nearly had the last laugh. But they reckoned without the persistence of Armande, who pleaded with her husband’s old patron, the King, and got him to intervene personally with the Archbishop of Paris. As a result, four days after his last performance, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin de Molière was laid to rest in a Christian grave at Saint-Joseph in Montmartre. As a condition of the Archbishop’s grudging assent, the interment took place without ceremony, and after dark. However, Molière, as a man who did most of his favourite things after dark, would probably not have minded too much.

Robert Cohen © John Good

4 The Plays of Molière

Le Médecin Volant (The Flying Doctor, 1655) L'Etourdi (The Blusterer, 1655) Le Dépit Amoureux (Lovers' Quarrels, 1656) Les Précieuses Ridicules (The Affected Ladies, 1659) Sganarelle, ou Le Cocu Imaginaire (Sganarelle, or The Imaginary Cuckold, 1660) Dom Garcie de Navarre, ou Le Prince Jaloux (Don Garcia of Navarre, or The Jealous Prince, 1661) L’École des Maris (School for Husbands, 1661) Les Fâcheux (The Boorish Bores, 1661) L’École des Femmes (School for Wives, 1662) La Critique de L'École des Femmes (School for Wives Criticised, 1663) L'lmpromptu de Versailles (Versailles Impromptu, 1663) Le Mariage Forcé (The Forced Marriage, 1664) La Princesse d'Elide (The Princess of Elis, 1664) Tartuffe (1664) Dom Juan, ou le Festin de Pierre (Don Juan, or The Feast of the Statue, 1665) L'Amour Médecin (Love Is the Best Doctor, 1665) Le Misanthrope (The Misanthrope, 1666) Le Medécin Malgré Lui (The Doctor in Spite of Himself, 1666) La Pastorale Comique (Pastoral Comedy, 1666) Le Sicilien, ou L'Amour Peintre (The Sicilian, or Love the Painter, 1667) Amphitryon (1668) George Dandin, ou Le Mari Confondu (George Dandin, or The Baffled Husband, 1668) L'Avare (The Miser, 1668) Monsieur de Pourceaugnac (1669) Les Amants Magnifiques (The Magnificent Lovers, 1670) Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (The Would-Be Gentleman, 1670) Psyché (Psyche, 1671) Les Fourberies de Scapin (The Knaveries of Scapin, 1671) La Comtesse d'Escarbagnas (The Countess of Escarbagnas, 1671) Les Femmes Savantes (The Learned Ladies, 1672) Le Malade Imaginaire (The Hypochondriac, 1673)

5 Interview with Ranjit Bolt, translator and adaptor

What do you think the translator's job is?

The translator's job, as defined by Dryden, in his preface to his translations, is: (I quote from memory) "To make the work as charming as possibly he can while preserving the character of the original." You don't, in other words, do your author any favours by trying to be too accurate, or literal.

Are there any specific difficulties that you encounter in translating Moliere?

Moliere is not funny on a line by line basis. He is a situational writer. I try to "pep things up" by translating a couplet in a way that turns it into a joke. I'll even add jokes of my own here and there, as long as they're not completely gratuitous and out of place. A laugh is a laugh, when all's said and done, and the more of them there are - as long as they're not of the cheap kind that appeal to people's baser instincts - the better the show will be.

In English theatre we very seldom hear plays that rhyme. You've chosen to keep the rhymes - what do you think rhyme does for the actors and audience?

I think rhyme helps, particularly in English. French rhymes are often not really rhymes at all - not as an English reader or listener would understand the word. English rhymes tend to be stronger, quirkier, more "in yer face" if you will, and that adds a comic dimension that wasn't there in the French. I believe there is something inherently comic in English rhyme, or rather; there is enormous comic potential in the device in English. It's an extra theatrical weapon.

6 French Resource: From Molière’s Preface to Tartuffe

Voici une comédie dont on a fait beaucoup de bruit, qui a été longtemps persécutées; et les gens qu’elle joue ont bien fait voir qu’ils étaient plus puissants en France que tous ceux que j’ai jouées jusqu’ici. Les marquis, les précieuses, les cocus et les médecins ont souffert doucement qu’on les ait représentés, et ils ont fait semblant de se divertir, avec tout le monde, des peintures que l’on a faites How far can you agree with Molière’s critics’ contention d’eux ; mais les hypocrites n’ont point that “Tartuffe… est une entendu raillerie; ils se sont effarouchés pièce qui offense la piété”? d’abord, et ont trouvé étrange que j’eusse la hardiesse de jouer leurs grimaces, et de vouloir décrier un métier dont tant d’honnêtes gens se mêlent. C’est un crime qu’ils ne sauraient me pardonner; et ils se sont tous armés contre ma comédie avec une fureur épouvantable. Ils n’ont eu garde de l’attaquer par le côté qui les a blessés: ils sont trop politique pour cela et savent trop bien vivre pour découvrir le font de leur âme. Suivant leur louable coutume, ils ont couverts leurs intérêts de la cause de Dieu ; et le Tartuffe , dans leur bouche, est une pièce qui offense la piété. Elle est, d’un bout à l’autre, pleine d’abominations, et l’on n’y trouve rien qui ne mérite le feu. Toutes les syllabes en sont impies; les gestes mêmes y criminels; et le moindre coup d’œil, le moindre branlement de tête, le moindre pas à droit ou à gauche, y cache des mystères qu’ils trouvent moyen d’expliquer à mon désavantage. J’ai eu beau la soumettre aux lumières de mes amis, et à la censure de tout le monde: les corrections que j’y ai pu faire, le jugement du roi et de la reine, qui l’ont vue, l’approbation des grands princes et de messieurs les ministres, qui l’ont honorée publiquement de leur présence, le témoignage de gens de bien, qui l’ont trouvée profitable, tout cela n’a de rien servi. Ils n’en veulent point démordre; et, tous les jours encore, ils font crier en public des zélés indiscrets, qui me disent des injures pieusement et me damnent par charité.

7 Interview with Joseph Chance, Damis

Moliere’s theatre was very much influenced by Italian commedia dell’arte. How much has this influenced your approach to your role?

Commedia inspired work is usually highly physically stylised and a strong, dynamic choice for an actor. It cannot be imposed as a playing choice, but must develop from direction, design and the arc of a piece. From the outset we were working as a company to find a balance between the physical farce and the pschologically realistic elements of 'Tartuffe'. Moliere's vision as condensed into a modern, accessible translation by Ranjit Bolt, offers a chance to find what Cleante would call the 'middle way' between heightened farcical storytelling and strong dramatic truth. On a personal level, I had felt that I recognised Damis as a cross between the Innamorato, the lover, and Il Capitano, the blustering soldier who is a coward underneath. Increasingly I felt the bluster of Damis does have courage - it is social restriction that is the obstacle to his knocking Tartuffe's block off (his father, his Grandmother, society's rules...) - and so considered him a lover striving to be the heroic Scaramouche of sorts (only without the rogue elements). The lack of a clear archetype perhaps shows why I made no choices to investigate further down a Commedia line. I did however work on my text with an eye towards two physcial states inspired by Capitano like heroism and bluster, and the contrasting open, fluidity of the Innamorati. These were exaggerated excercises, not styles to impose on the final performance. I would take a beat of text ( a whole idea or through line of thought) and I would strut the whole thing, kicking my legs out in mock ballet style, sticking my chest out and blustering and roaring. Any thought of shock is magnified, any threat retalliated to. Then I would repeat the beat with the yearning front footed need of a lover, pleading, seducing, and enticing. This often stood at odds with the context of given moments fo Damis' journey, but was very usefulin regard to speaking to Elmire, convincing her of Tartuffe's ripeness for a fall in 3.3 and for convincing Orgon of Tartuffe's guilt in 3.4. These improvised and private moments were very helpful for giving a socially real, physical line to the boy Damis, adding to some Element work I did with him. Damis is all fire - edgy and spitting out, then dampening down a bit. The physical bravura of Il Capitano melting into a lover works quite well in sympathy with the element of fire.

What research have you done to help you play your character? Jonathan Munby (the director) and I discussed the connection of the young, fashionable characters of the play with Louis XIV and the majority of my historical research centred around the Sun King. Louis' court was interested in dynamic action - Louis himself was almost continually at war, he would lead his troops to the field (if not into battle itself... Il Capitano?) he was a great patron of the arts and a man of truly monomaniacal vision. This vision of Louis, a self possessed yet obsessive young man, with a tendency toward Monomania was very helpful and I am still looking at Nancy Mitford's biography of Louis, 'The Sun King'. Damis is blind in his rage and hatred - he thinks he is right, with an almost god given and royal certainty. Socially speaking of course Damis is not on this level and we have established Orgon's family are not nobility, but there was something to the aspirations of the bourgeoisie of the period that saw a measuring of oneself in relation to the king. Louis centralised everything about himself. All reflected him, needed him, wished to please him - and action was to be respected at court and beyond. Damis seems to have a connection to this. Again this work was led by the production, by the director's suggestion, rather than my bringing my own independent research to it.

What function do you think Damis fulfils in the play? It is always difficult for an actor to objectively see the reason for their character to exist. In some ways only certain kind of people ever know 'why they exist'. Most of us just 'are'. Damis himself is not one for self awareness. Yet in my seeing his blindness as the actor of him, seeing his rage at Tartuffe and his youthful over enthusiasm, it is possible to see his service to the plot and drama. Damis is very serious. There is a lot at stake for him - Love, respect, happiness, his personal wealth and his family's reputation. His purpose would seem to be to accelerate confrontation with such heightened stakes. He offers a level of absurd Pathos by being so blind that he both echoes his father Orgon's singular and blinkered vision, while standing as a dynamic and foolish opponent to him and Tartuffe. Damis is a person to push against and to hold back - a man winding himself up into action through blind and righteous anger. In a way he is there to make mistakes. Though of course he believes that he himself is doing absolutely the right thing...

What’s your favourite line?

I hate him, and because I do I say so, to thyself be true

9 In the Shadow of the Sun King

Louis XIV is the longest reigning monarch in European history, from the middle of the 17th century into the second decade of the 18th. He was, however, somewhat neglected as a child. A long civil war, known as the ‘Fronde’, began when he was nine and the subsequent poverty, fear, hunger and humiliation he suffered during the course of these uprisings left the young king with a healthy dislike and suspicion of the nobles, the common people and the city of Paris.

The uprising had been against the crown as represented by Cardinal He loved Jules Mazarin, who effectively ruled France while Louis was still a splendour, minor. Louis became Mazarin’s pupil and eventually renounced his love magnificence, for Mazarin’s niece, to do his duty in making a political marriage with and profusion Marie-Thérèse of Austria, the Infanta of Spain, in 1660. The following in all things, year, Mazarin died and Louis immediately announced, at the age of 22, and that he would now assume all responsibility for ruling the kingdom of encouraged France. His announcement caused great consternation as this was not similar tastes French tradition—Louis’ concept of dictatorship by virtue of divine in his Court… right was all his own. He regarded himself as God’s representative on earth and therefore considered all disobedience and rebellion against him to be sinful.

Eighteen million people lived in Louis’ France, of whom fifteen million were peasants, although 10% of these were rich enough to employ servants and enjoy small luxuries. Less than half a million of his subjects belonged to noble families, who nonetheless owned most of the land. Below the royal family were the noblesse d’épée , who had received their noble status by serving the king in battle. Then came the noblesse de robe , advisers and civil servants who had been more recently promoted. Throughout his long reign, Louis preferred to delegate the power to run France to the noblesse de robe , thereby ensuring their loyalty and eagerness to please him in order to get on in the world. His chief minister was Jean- Baptiste Colbert, the son of a draper (although he claimed knightly ancestry), who was principally in charge of the country’s finances, but also ran virtually every other government department except the army and foreign affairs. Colbert was unpopular in the country but very hardworking and, within ten years, he had turned France’s finances around and made her the strongest and most prosperous country in Europe.

He wrote in his own These policies inevitably encouraged the rise of a Mémoires : bourgeois class, who also enjoyed positive discrimination In my heart I pref er fame to monopolise trade and finance at the expense of the above all else, even life old aristocracy. Louis was also a great patron of the arts, itself…Love of glory has favouring bourgeois artists and intellectuals as well as the same subtleties as the judicials and senior state officials. most tender passions…In exercising a totally divine function here on earth, Having said that, the king disliked any criticism, and we must appear incapable anyone who spoke out or wrote against him was liable to of turmoils which could find themselves in jail; in fact, no one was allowed to debase it. print anything without Colbert’s consent (as Minister of Fine Arts). Louis was perhaps under some restraint, however voluntarily as, despite Tartuffe receiving its royal première at the court in Versailles, Louis reluctantly agreed to the banning of the play when the church protested at the satire directed against it. However, Louis went on to bestow his personal protection

10 and an annual pension on Molière’s company and it was a royal decree which finally allowed Tartuffe to be performed for the public.

While the bourgeoisie were coming into their own, the nobility were getting ever deeper in their debt, as they struggled to emulate the lavish lifestyle set by Louis as an example for them all to follow. Their income, apart from rents, came almost exclusively from the management of the land, which was now under the control of stewards responsible to Colbert, who were certainly not likely to favour the nobility, as the report of one of Colbert’s Intendants, Barentin, amply demonstrates:

My greatest passion is to maintain everybody in the submissiveness and respect due to his Majesty, and to make justice reign in the provinces where I pass by delivering the people from the oppression of the nobility that tyrannises and overwhelms them. One of the most detailed and reliable sources

At first the petit bourgeois were flattered for our knowledge of life at the court of Louis and even honoured to be the creditors of XIV are the writings of the Duc de Saint-Simon, who lived at Versailles for many years. Here great noblemen but, eventually, they had are some extracts from his account: to go to court against their prestigious Glory was his passion, but he also liked order clients to recover their losses. Louis moved and regularity in all things; he was naturally his main residence to his new palace at prudent, moderate, and reserved; always Versailles in 1682, after twenty years of master of his tongue and his emotions. Will it work which had created a sumptuous royal be believed? he was also naturally kind- court, unparalleled in Europe. Louis hearted and just. God had given him all that increased his power over the nobility, as was necessary for him to be a good King, their debts to the bourgeoisie made them perhaps also to be a fairly great one. finally grateful to come to Versailles where they were then beholden to the king and must participate in the complicated rules of precedence, behaviour and etiquette which prevailed there. Louis turned every aspect of his life into a ceremony in which his courtiers had to take part. It was considered a very great honour and mark of royal favour, for instance, to be chosen to hold the candle to light the king to bed, a choice made nightly after the king had said his prayers.

In the matter of religion, Louis held the simple view that the king controlled the Catholic Church and that the Church should do his bidding. According to the doctrine of the divine right of kings, Louis had to answer only to God and not to any earthly authority such as the pope—at this time popes were not prepared in any case to take on one of Europe’s most powerful monarchs.

Louis believed that the Roman Catholic Church was an essential tool to maintain control over the French people and employed drastic measures throughout his reign to ensure religious uniformity. When it came to making church appointments, Louis again bypassed the noblesse d’épée and went to the noblesse de robe , despite, or perhaps because, he knew the only vocations open to the sons of the nobility The Duc de Saint -Simon were the church or the army. The clergy thus recruited observed: could be relied upon not only to back Louis financially, But for the fear of the but also support him when he clashed with the pope in devil, which, by God’s Rome over the question of whether the king or the pope grace, never forsook him should control the Catholic Church in France. even in his wildest excesses, he would have Back at court, the person of the king himself was the caused himself to be object of a kind of religious worship, not discouraged by worshipped as a deity. He some courtier bishops. In chapel the courtiers habitually would not have lacked turned their backs on the officiating priest to kneel worshippers… facing the king, almost as if they were actually worshipping him rather than God.

Indeed, under Louis XIV, the monarchy became increasingly remote from the majority of the French people, as he rarely travelled around his kingdom. This isolation both physically

11 and in terms of lifestyle gradually accrued to Louis a mythic quality which he enhanced by his creation of himself as the Sun King. He chose the sun as his personal emblem because it was perceived as the centre of the universe and the source of all energy on earth. Louis of course, intended to be the centre and source of all power and energy in his own universe, the kingdom of France.

12 Interview with Jonathan Munby, director

This is your fourth piece of classical European theatre that you have directed for The Watermill Theatre. Does European theatre constitute a genre? If so, what is it that appeals to you about it? It’s difficult to class all European theatre as one genre. Within the European canon there are genres. What frustrates me in this country is that we don’t see enough of them, so when you do get to see it is clumped together in this other ‘non-English’ group, which is such a shame. The four pieces I have done for The Watermill have been so different. The closest to Molière is Marivaux’s The Triumph of Love [Watermill 2003] which was written later and borrows a lot from him. But even in that short time there’s a huge difference in what those writers were doing for their audience, and they’re a million miles away from the Spanish plays I’ve directed. It does frustrate me that these plays, which aren’t by known English writers, might be seen as a genre, because they are so fantastically different.

Why do you think we don’t see much of Molière’s work in English theatres? I think there’s a fear of the unknown in English audiences; they’re reluctant to see something that they haven’t heard of before, or can’t pronounce. They don’t want to take a risk. That’s frustrating for me because it’s a lot of these plays that I’m drawn to. Also, I think that finding a good translator, a writer, who is able to release these plays for a modern English audience but still retain the essence of the original, is very difficult because there aren’t many of them out there. We’re not developing these talents because we’re not supporting them economically. We don’t, in this country, support the arts, or theatre, enough anyway, and, within the financial constraints that there are, the money available to develop and support a translator is absolutely minute. We’re not developing new talents of people who have more than one language. They have to be not only translator, but playwright as well. Ranjit Bolt, who translated and adapted this script, is a writer in his own right. He understands the original complicitly. He understands the genre and the culture that those plays have come from, and

13 then finds a way of using their own skill as a writer to release them for a modern audience.

In Molière’s time a lot of the theatre was drawn from the Italian Commedia Dell’Arte. How much has that influenced your approach here? Molière certainly was writing with the stock Commedia types in mind, but I think that what he was doing was moving drama into a different area. He was allowing those types to become full, three-dimensional, psychological figures. Because I’ve studied a lot of commedia, I was able to see, within Molière’s world, where those threads are. But Molière was pushing for something else; he started with the stock type but what he wanted to do was create a much more fully rounded character. So in terms of the production we haven’t really gone down the Commedia route at all. It has informed some of the more physical moments, and certainly some of the energy that you need to perform Molière’s text comes directly from the Commedia school where the performers are needed to be very front-footed and energized. That energy has to spring out of the language and through the language. Those are the only two areas where we’ve drawn on Commedia. Molière’s doing something much deeper, more psychological, more interesting than relying on those Italian predecessors.

The play satirises religious hypocrisy - it was even banned for a period at the time it was written. How much have modern ideas of religion flavoured the company’s approach to the play? It’s certainly something we looked at. You can’t talk about religious hypocrisy and not mention certain examples that we’ve lived through in our own lifetimes. Examples as diverse as modern religious cults where the teaching and the practice are in opposition; priests in Ireland who preach one thing and perform another. We’ve lived through that hypocrisy. Even last week I noticed that the Catholic church is going to change their law to allow divorcees to be embraced fully by the church. How they can allow that and not condone homosexuality, for example, is extraordinary and ludicrous. We face hypocrisy on many different levels in the same way that Molière recognised it in his own lifetime. I have to say that the hypocrisy in the play starts with religious hypocrisy, but there is no character in the play

14 that is not satirised in some way. There’s hypocrisy of morals, political standing, social standing. No one of these characters is let off in this play. Molière’s skill is to satirise all of society, not just Tartuffe as a religious figure, but Orgon and his champagne socialism. He preaches one thing and does another. Mme Pernelle is a brilliant hypocrite in the play. The lovers give another example of hypocrisy. The satire runs through all of them, I think.

What is the director’s job? That’s a very good question! I’ve no idea! Beyond the practical issues of putting a show on, of taking a text to stage, an idea to reality, beyond taking the creative team through that process and nurturing that process, I see our job more as finding the truth of something. We question and reveal. I’m only interested in drama that somehow reflects the life that we live, and in order to do that I have to be rigorous in my process in terms of questioning what characters do in a play, why they make the choices that they make. Finding that truth and asking those questions is, I think, a much larger part of the job than people realise. It goes way beyond the tangible, practical aspects of the job.