Review: LES LIAISONS DANGEREUSES HEATS UP THE STAGE at Schoolhouse Theater

If I had to settle on a single word that best captures the gestalt of slyly erotic (and exotic) stage drama Les Liaisons Dangereuses (aka Dangerous Liaisons in the 1988 Hollywood version), I can conjure no better choice than the word Elegant.

And yet all the elegant finery and furnishings and language of the play’s upper-classy mis en scene – brought to vivid and stylish life by director extraordinaire Owen Thompson – cannot camouflage the ugly intentions of the heartless beings lurking around each corner. This is where craven creatures like Le Marquise de Merteuil (Elizabeth S. Rodgers) and Le Vicomte de Valmont (Patrick Zeller) prowl and plot and pounce on their prey, be it a young man, a young virgin late of the convent, or a puritanical married woman who nurtures a fervid antipathy toward infidelity. Until she doesn’t.

Make no mistake – the gossamer delicacy of a tender moment notwithstanding, it is emotional brutality, betrayal, cruelty, avarice and malignant narcissism that nourishes the most dangerous among these folks – and which brings about their downfall. (That reversal of fortune is poignantly captured in a climactic, bone-chilling act of humiliation (executed with clever stagecraft) that leaves the villainess of the piece, de Merteuil, emotionally naked for all to see.) 

What first strikes you when taking in the stately set at Schoolhouse Theater – where the masterly Christopher Hampton play (adapted from an 18th Century novel by Choderlos de Laclos) runs through Sunday, Sept. 21 – is the visual splendor.

The set design by Tony Andrea effectively evokes the privileged world of the French nobility on the eve of that pesky little disturbance we know as the French Revolution. (While the nobility who populate the story may be blithely oblivious to the emergent uprising of the little people down below, the aristocracy’s delight in debased behavior is in itself revolting.)

The action takes place in 1788, as the program informs, “in various salons and bedrooms in hotels and chateaux around Paris.” The principals of the story make ceaseless use of those spaces to satisfy their voracious libidos.

At the white-hot center of the sexcapades are ex-lovers de Merteuil and Valmont. They are the play’s power-thirsty protagonists and each other’s ardent antagonist. They also are what one observer of the play aptly classified as “apex predators.”  To these two, toying with others’ emotions and sexual flowering (and deflowering) is a bloodsport at which they each believe themselves without equal. The plot pits them against each other and also in unison against others. There are high-stakes challenges they trade in that pivot on gamesmanship – sexual conquests and letters spirited in and out of private drawers as well as the performative mixing-and-matching of partners and paramours.

In Ms. Rodgers and Mr. Zeller, this production has two superlative actors who attack their meaty roles with unvarnished relish, and the audience is the beneficiary of their talents. The author has granted the best lines to de Merteuil, and Ms. Rodgers delivers the goods with optimal dryness and timing. In sum and substance, de Merteuil believes love is little more than a conceit, “something you use, not something you fall into.” (There’s plenty more bon mots where that came from.)

As the self-regarding, indefatigable playboy Valmont, the dashing Mr. Zeller seduces his veritable harem with a potent cocktail of devilish elan and smugness. He is, in a word, irresistible, both in character and in performance.

In the role of young music teacher Le Chevalier Danceny, in love with Cecile and the unwitting pawn of Valmont and de Mereuil, Max Murray turns in a delightful performance brimming with brio that injects welcome physical comic relief.

The appealing cast also features Ovi Vargas (Azolan, Valmont’s valet), Kate Day Magocsi (Cecile Volanges, young woman who left the convent), Lisa Ann Goldsmith (Mme de Volanges, mother of Cecile), Elizah Knight (Le Presidente de Tourvel, a married, religious woman), Brinton Parson (Mme de Rosemonde, aunt of Valmont), and Indiana Robinson-Dawes (Emilie, a courtesan).

Thanks to Mr. Andrea’s skillful use of the proscenium space, we at once are drawn into a seemingly palatial expanse of turquoise-papered walls, candle sconces, a white divan, and floor-to-ceiling curtains, punctuated by an atmospheric trompe l’oeil mural depicting a Parisian park. Elegant too is how the simple re-positioning of that one divan a few feet this way or that way, from scene to scene, is used as a marker to denote in which space the current action is taking place. 

Speaking of elegance, as orchestrated by Costume Designer Nancy Nichols, who does a splendid job, the haute couture ladies on stage are virutally floating on air in billowing hoopskirts and uplifting bodices. The men also are suitably dressed to the nines, in an ensemble of resplendent waistcoat, breeches and stockings. Sartorial formality (stiffness, really) is the byword while the sun is up. Casual wear – a nightshirt or lingerie – is reserved for intimate and deliciously naughty, nightly assignations, which is the coin of the realm in Les Liaisons Dangereuses. The constant couplings are hot and heavy enough that one wonders if flak jackets and hard hats would not be more practical – and physically safer.

As Liaisons director Owen Thompson eloquently writes, “It’s a glittering world of wit and temptation, where even the truth wears perfume—and every promise ends in a kiss you shouldn’t trust.”

Noteworthy as well in burnishing the sense of time and place of this Les Liaisons Dangereuses is the purposeful physicality of the actors, whose movements are articulated and carefully measured in a manner that bespeaks an upbringing to the manor born. Someone doesn’t merely sit; they alight, with elegant lightness.

A gentleman’s bow is due fight choreogapher Dan O’Driscoll, and to actors Zeller and Murray, for a smoothly staged duel between the two. Also performed impressively are the tightly directed seduction scenes (aided by intimacy director and cast member Lisa Ann Goldsmith), They are not mawkish or timid, just suggestive enough to work convincingly (and tasteful enough without pandering). The physical commingling keeps the audience on the edge of their seats, wondering just how far they might go. The answer is: just enough for it to work its theater magic.

Bram Lewis is producing director of Schoolhouse Theater. For Les Liaisons Dangereuses, lighting design is by Dennnis Parichy, sound design by Jessica Klee and Owen Thompson.