Eventide’s ‘Miser’ Not Stingy With Laughs

by Heather Wysocki

            Jewels, a mansion and gifts to impress the eligible bachelorette down the street: 1,000 crowns. Cooks, servants and coachmen to cater to the lucky lady: 200 crowns. True love: priceless.

            At least it is for everyone but Harpagon, the crotchety titular character of Moliere’s “The Miser,” currently playing at Eventide Arts’ Gertrude Lawrence Stage in Dennis, whose price is decidedly much lower.

            Harpagon (played by an outstanding Cleo Zani) is the true definition of a Scrooge: his children have to beg for new clothes, he refuses a dowry to any of his daughter’s suitors, and the coach horses can’t be used because of a lack of food (too expensive). Luckily for Cape theatergoers, his skinflint tendencies translate into the perfect Moliere comedy.

            For the first few minutes, “Miser” is the typical boy-meets-girl story. Except, of course, that the boy’s father also meets the girl, and the boy’s father’s matchmaker has already schemed to put the second romance into action.

            Harpagon’s son Cleante (the boy) and Mariane (the girl) meet by chance and fall head over heels for each other.  Unbeknownst to the betrothed pair, old Harpagon’s decided to marry, too. In true Moliere style, it’s to young-enough-to-be-his-daughter Mariane, a bewitching and blustery blonde with a tendency to cringe whenever Harpagon comes near her.

            At the same time, Cleante’s sister Elise is in love with head servant Valere, a mysterious and mirthful man of unknown lineage.

            While Harpagon plans his few remaining years, the young lovers scheme to change his mind by stealing the one thing he loves: his casket full of money, buried under currant bushes in a garden no one ever visits.

            After a few mishaps (the money gets misplaced, characters thought long-dead return to the stage, and one really annoying servant causes a general commotion) later, the couples marry and Moliere’s comedy draws to its largely ridiculous close. In this case, though, ridiculous is a compliment rather than a curse.

            Harpagon’s children, the snooty Elise (River Lombardi) and flamboyant Cleante (Zachary Soule Philbrook) are overly zany, the precursors to the Bud and Kelly Bundy of “Married with Children.”  They pout, whine and yell at each other, but in the end they’re really on each others’ sides. Their loves (also siblings, but you don’t know that yet), Mariane and Valere, are equally charming.

            David McCarron is brilliant as Valere. He delivers zingers with a Groucho Marx smirk and despairs like Leo DiCaprio in “Titanic,” and he does both flawlessly.  Zani’s Harpagon, too, is a character to remember. He looks and acts like a North Pole elf with a chip on his shoulder; nothing really makes him happy except his money, which makes everyone else around him miserable.  Zani does such a great job that if you saw him on the street you’d expect to be snapped at for how expensive your clothes were or how you owed him a couple of francs. He plays the character through and through.

            Mariane, played by the irresistible Sophie Moeller, is like Marilyn Monroe’s much, much older sister, complete with the blonde bouffant and luscious red lips. Moeller is great – at her best – in a part that allows her to show off her considerable comedic talent (and ability to scrunch up her face like a pug at the distasteful antics of the aging Miser).

            Supporting cast members Cat Hallett (the scheming matchmaker Frosine) and Michael Ernst (an equally slimy servant) are the perfect, sort-of-rational balance to a household full of crazies.

            “The Miser” really only slows down during its exposition scenes, when the how and why of the various couples’ dilemmas are explained. Here, the action and humor slows to a grinding halt.  Expert direction by Daniel Fontneau and practiced acting by the players make those moments bearable, though.

            For such a small production (the Gertrude Lawrence Stage is at a church, behind a choir practice room and down a winding hallway), “The Miser” really is surprisingly good in all areas: casting is spot-on, lines are delivered with nary a blip, and costumes by Edie Hurlburt shine and swish with the glory of Edith Head’s period getups.

            “The Miser’s” title character may be as stingy as anything, but Eventide Arts’ production of it is more than generous with wit and humor.