Review: The School For Wives
A Noise Within, 234 South Brand Blvd., Glendale (818) 546-1924
by Wenzel Jones
A Noise Within, Glendale’s classical repertory theatre company, is performing The School For Wives in their space at Brand and Colorado, a theatre rather thrillingly located in an old Masonic Temple. But more on that later. It’s a show that made me quietly rejoice. Fussy acting, fussy costumes, endless posturing… God, but I love Molière. Judging from the audience in attendance the day I went, so do many others.
The School For Wives is perhaps alone among Molière’s plays in that it could play a Pussycat Theatre without a title change. Okay, so could The Learned Ladies, but that’s not the point. The point is that even though the play is French and involves interpersonal relationships, it is not a sex romp. Do not let this discourage you. Bring the kids. (The older ones.) The School For Wives is a study of all those qualities that make men so darn adorable—vanity, stupidity, and a maniacal need to control—along with a healthy dose of fluttering hearts, fluttering breasts, and, oh yes, slamming doors.
The show begins with Arnolphe (Joel Swetow) announcing that he will, at the age of 42, at last take a bride. This was back when 42 pretty much marked the beginning of the end and not, as today, the beginning of the end of adolescence. Rather than shop the open market and perhaps end up with a smart woman that will make a cuckold of him (infidelity being more a matter of pride than hygiene, and this before penicillin), Arnolphe plans to marry his young ward Agnes. To preserve her state of pristine innocence, Arnolphe has had Agnes reared in a convent, an education not unlike today’s public schooling in that the student is left knowing essentially nothing about practically everything and is thus equipped for little in life besides marriage or politics. This combination of blinding ignorance and tender youth is what makes her so perfect for him as a spouse. The desire of men over 40 for the human equivalent of veal is not a theme new to popular amusements. Now that Agnes is of marriageable age, Arnolphe has her (a creature so unsullied she asks if children are begotten through the ear—those nuns do good work) sequestered in his other townhouse, guarded by two servants, there to remain away from the influence of men and society until Arnolphe marries her.
Of course, things work out not necessarily to Arnolphe’s advantage.
Rather than recount the rest of the tale, let me just touch on a few aspects of what follows. (1) The servants charged with guarding Agnes are doltish and stupid. Unwise decisions are made. (2) The romantic male lead, Horace (I hope I’m not giving anything away here) is not prettier than his female counterpart. This is refreshing. (3) Agnes, though playing stupid, is a brunette. You may assume that since she is not blonde she will overcome her lack of formal education and show spunk and uncanny native wisdom before the final curtain. In many ways, theatre is not unlike TV. (4) At the end is a scene in which everything is explained clearly, both rapidly and in great detail so as to make clear all that has gone before. This will not present a problem to those of you familiar with television’s finer daytime dramas. (5) The set does not shake when doors are flung open and shut. This is very important to a show like this, and an admirable feat of construction.
Doesn’t this sound like a fine way to pass a couple of hours? Of course it does, and you would be wise to do so.
Attending the theatre at the old Masonic Temple is a bit like going to a show in the castle of one of Cinderella’s poorer relations on her husband’s side. Stairs wend their way up two floors to the performance space. The house lights are massive lamps dragged home from the last Crusade. Seating is on long (but sufficiently padded) pews. Fortunately, you are not required to yell “Wassail!” or “Ho, serving wench!” to make the experience work for you.
The show itself is just over two hours and it flies by. Except for the first five minutes. You fidget on your pew and softly curse; I’d no idea this play would be in verse!
This pleases. Once the exposition is out of the way it all starts to sound like, if not normal speech, at least speech.
The performances are so well done that it seems a shame to separate any particular actor out. Joel Swetow’s Arnolphe is a multi-layered creation of ego, bluster, insecurity, and self-delusion. You’ll know him. If you haven’t actually married him, you’ve almost certainly worked for him. Hisa Takakuwa’s Agnes, and Eric David Johnson as Horace, are such a testament to love’s first bloom that it just might make you believe all over again that, yes, people can live on romance and kisses. As the servants of Arnolphe and the caretakers of Agnes’ virtue, Jill Hill and Josiah Polhemus illustrate that good help has always been hard to find. The rest of the cast (Paul Bates, Dierk Torsek, and Steve Peterson) fill the remaining roles ably, neither tossing them off as small and of no consequence nor desperately grabbing for all the attention they can get during their brief moments on stage. The term “ensemble acting” gets bandied about quite a bit in reviews, but I don’t know that I’ve ever actually seen it done so well before.
If layers of clothing and acres of hair are your want, then you have yet another reason to attend this show. Fabric is to the costume designer, Kevin King, what meringue is to the pastry chef. There’s so… much of it. I imagined a room of tiny demons at work with needle and thread murmuring, “It’s not done ’til it’s overdone” as their mantra. Set your minimalist tastes aside and just enjoy the yards of visual stimulation as they parade in front of the pretty little townhouse exterior set.
This show is being performed in rotating repertory with All My Sons and All’s Well That Ends Well through May 15, so call now for tickets. The theatre is located at 234 South Brand Blvd. (just north of Colorado) and the phone number for ticket information is 818-546-1924. And because I couldn’t find anyplace to gracefully fit it in earlier, I think you should know that some very pretty music has been composed for this show by Ken Hauge. Now go. ♦