Scandalous Fun

AUDIENCES at English comedies written before 1800 usually spend the first act on the edge of their seats, so busy trying to follow the dialogue that relaxation is out of the question. In the hands of a good director, they will gradually catch the rhythm of stylized language, the trick of keeping the intricate plot in order without constantly consulting the program: only then can they be properly drawn into the dramatic illusion. But at the American Repertory Theater's production of The School for Scandal, written in 1777 by Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the audience is at ease long before the beautifully ornate sets twirl into the first scene change. Director Jonathan Miller, famed for his long comedy career and the directorship of the BBC Shakespeare television series, has the rhythm of this elegant Sheridan masterpiece down pat: the well-considered, well-balanced details of posture and diction and timing give an impression of perfect naturalness to a mode which, in all likelihood, was never natural for anyone. Producing such a stylized work without making it stilted, bringing another age's ideal behavior to life, is always risky. It is also precisely the kind of risky business that a talented, academically alert company like the ART should spend its time on.

Of all the bits of adoring trivia the ART press office has tossed out concerning guest director Miller, the most illuminating may be that he owns upward of 15,000 art postcards. The British director, known for his scrupulous historical presentations, credits this obsession in the program notes for his instincts concerning "an armature of things which are quite clearly to be seen in 18th-century paintings--the way gentlemen stood with their toes turned out, the way people's hands--rested lightly on the bosom." Reportedly, he worked unusually long and hard with his troupe to supply the stances, the facial expressions, the ties that would keep Sheridan's rococo dialogue from flagging. The results are impressive.

FOR SURELY no modern audience is often asked to expend the kind of mental effort that keeping up with The School for Scandal requires. The plot is spiderwebbed from the beginning: a "school" of conniving gossips with names like Benjamin Backbite. Lady Sneer-well, and Mr. Snake, whose greatest pleasure is to ruin the reputations of upright citizens through rumor. Lady Sneerwell (Shirley Wilber), it turns out, is also passing the time by angling for the heart of a young heir to-be-named Charles Surface (Stephen Rowe); her strategy is to connive with Charles's brother Joseph (Tony Shalhoub) in his attempts to win the heart of Charles's sweetheart Maria (Karen MacDonald). Matters become more complicated with the question of Charles and Joseph's inheritance from a rich uncle; the boys ward, a middle-aged curmudgeon bewildered by his pretty young wife, disagrees with the rich uncle as to which nephew is the more deserving; a game of mistaken identities is utilized to test the character of the young Surfaces; and several infidelities intervene. It all takes a bit more than three hours to unwind, and somehow, in the end, if all fits.

Barely discernible amid luscious curled wigs and ruffled pantaloons the ART regulars offer a particularly cohesive version of their usual fine teamwork. Miller's intelligent strategy is to differentiate the characters as sharply as possible, giving each a few eccentricities pronounced enough for easy reference. The servants in particular benefit from the chance to present more than awkward carbon copies of the principals: John Bottoms as Mr. Snake displays: diabolical shuffle and sneer, while the faithful retainer Rowley (Richard Spore) has been so sharply characterized--his hands, legs, voice and cane tremble constantly--that at times he is barely comprehensible.

OF THE PRINCIPALS, the most convincing and charming by far is Cherry Jones as Lady Teazle, the brash young wife of a cantankerous but adoring city nobleman (Alvin Epstein). Beset by the slimy advances of Joseph, the importunations of her husband, and the nattering and bickering of her circle of gossips, she nevertheless tends to hold the center of attention. The flock of reprobates around her project a great many varieties of competent villainy, from the goodnatured profligacy of Stephen Rowe as Charles to the simpering idiocy of Thomas Derrah as Benjamin Backbite. The ART also has lived up to its Faculty duties by casting several undergraduates, including Maggie Topkis '83 as a maidservant and Nick Wyse '84 as one of Charles's circle of drinking companions. Judging from the results, the ART can only benefit from more such collaborations.

Miller held a press conference at the Loeb last month to announce that Scandal would be his last show: after nearly a quarter of a century of direction, he intends to go to Canada to pursue the neuro-psychology which was his first love. If the ART is indeed housing his final dramatic effort, then the company has gleaned great good fortune from an otherwise very sad occasion.