#the hypochondriac

[pertatoe]

Inktober day 17: I'm not touching that with my hands...

[mostcursedofpastas]

Saw Molière's The Hypochondriac at a local theater today and they did some really interesting things with the production!

Things to know:

Molière was a 17th century French playwright whose primary patron was King Louis XIV.

The Hypochondriac's original form was a comedic ballet with music. It featured pastoral ballet sequences that were mostly there because the king liked them. He'd even participate sometimes. Most translations leave them out but not this one!

Molière collapsed on stage while playing the main character and died several hours later (he had tuberculosis).

So, while the original text of the play does not have someone playing the king, the king, as the primary patron, was very much a participant.

This production put the king back in the play. He joined the actors on stage for some of the interludes. The rest of the time he was sitting on a throne in the audience, reacting to the play (he especially enjoyed the bathroom humor), making the actors redo a part he found particularly funny, stopping the play in its tracks when one of the actors gestured in his general direction when talking about "the public," etc.

The actors were focused on the king, ready to appease him and cater to his every whim. It gave the play a whole extra dimension; commentary on what art looks like when it relies on a single despotic patron.

Partway through the actor playing the main character "collapsed" and had to be wheeled offstage by the visibly rattled costars. The remaining actors tried to tell the king that the play couldn't go on because they didn't have a backup, but the king decided that he would fill in for the main character. The king bumbled around on stage, opening a cooler to see what was in it and then insisting on cracking open all of the beers and handing them out. He walked behind some of the scenery and laughed at how the back wasn't painted. He struggled to read his lines from the copy of the script he was given.

The actor "Molière" was dying off stage but the show must go on, because the king commands it.

[thecannibalroyal]

I had the incredible opportunity to see Edward Hogg in The Hypochondriac tonight!! It was such a brilliant performance, and I feel immensely feral that I was sat only a metre away from him 😩😩😩

[moteldatura-blog]

Oscar Buimeyer’s mystery illness has gone on too, too long.  The floral smell, the visions of strange women, the unceasing sneezing, there must be some rational explanation for it.  Wrapped in the comforter up to his once-narrow nose, now swollen lightbulb size, he proceeds in penguin shuffle to the front office.  It must be the room, he says.  Since he moved into Seven he’s only gotten worse.  He demands to change room.  And, in fairness, the old grouch at the desk is more than helpful.  He installs Oscar in Two personally, and has the handyman bring down his luggage and ever-expanding pharmacopeia.  Yes, Oscar thinks to himself, the air is much clearer here.  He balls up in bed for a good night’s sleep on brand new sheets, leaving the windows open for the air to circulate.  The lingering paranoia, that the flowers will creep in at the window and suck the juice from his brain, he knows must only be a side-effect.  

Long and peaceful minutes after the staff all have left him alone, the closet giggles.  Oscar starts, bolt upright, tangled in the sheets, looking on in horror as the closet begins to hum the theme from The Odd Couple…

[moteldatura-blog]

The sneezing from Room Seven hardly stops anymore.  Oscar Buimeyer knows this illness can’t go on.  It can’t last forever.  Soon the fever will break.  The visions of the strange woman who comes in the night, who stands silent and at the foot of his bed and only watches, those will stop.  Next time he speaks to the cleaner he’ll hear what she’s actually saying and not just jumbled gibbering.  That poor woman must think Oscar is quite mad.  The headache stopped when that horrid hallucination, the days of endless buzzing, like a lawnmower that never cut out, that stopped.  The sneeze… Well, that will go with the rest of the flu, won’t it?  Or when he leaves her, leaves the room above the south corner of the back fence, above the creeping, sleeping datura, which he has only ever dreamt seeps into his room while he sleeps, filling his mouth and nostrils, stretching cautious tendrils down inside his ears.  He has only ever dreamt of curled up flowers being pushed inside to bloom unfurling, stroking gentle as a lover against his brain.

[louisestheatreramblings]

Review of The Hypochondriac at The Theatre Royal

The Hypochondriac

Despite some grotesque scenes, Richard Bean’s adaptation of Molière’s classic, The Hypochondriac, left the audience in rude health. Through laughter, embarrassment and farce the audience were left feeling content and red-faced from giggling.

The farce follows the life of Argan, a Hypochondriac, who finds his only satisfaction in life from believing he has many different ailments. The shelves surrounding him are full of specimen jars, which propel his disgusting fascination with his bowels even further. Argan, a penny-pinching businessman is anxious to marry off his daughter Angelique to a doctor in order to save on medical bills. Angelique is in love with one of her father’s apprentices, Cleante. Angelique’s stepmother, Beline, is determined to pack her off to a convent in order to inherit Argan’s fortune. With the help of his brother; Beralde, and maid; Toinette, Argan is forced to face up to his psychological problems and eventually learn the truth about those closest to him.

The scenes were broken up by musical numbers, such as ‘Blood in my poo’, sung by a gaggle of gown of wearing doctors, which fed the audiences natural fascination for toilet humour.  Modern adaptations were made, for example including ‘Ebola’ in the list of many illnesses in one of their songs. The songs were very successful in providing more humour to the show and kept the audience enticed, by wondering what grotesque medical ailment they were going to croon about next.

The whole play was set in what is assumed to be Argan’s living quarters. By keeping the set the same throughout it helped keep the audiences attention. Props such as Argan’s commode looked of the period, thus making the play more believable. When the gaggle of gown wearing doctors appeared, the curtain would come down and display a close up view of some cells.

Richard Bean has done a fantastic job, thrusting this play into the modern era, and keeping the audience giggling like school children from start to finish.

[a-patchwork-orange]

I'm back from New York and it's time for a long over-due final image for my book cover for Moliere's The Hypochondriac. I had so much fun with this project (as well as a little camera strife, but hey I'm still learning)

[a-patchwork-orange]

Book cover for The Hypochondriac almost done, here is my miniature bottle sized 'Argan' ready to go in his glass jar for the final photoshoot. he still reminds me of my grandad