Review: Revival of The Imaginary Invalid Is Terminally Short on Laughs

If France had universal health care back in the 17th century, Molière might never have written Le Malade imaginaire, his satirical takedown of the medical establishment. But the play’s self-centered hypochondriac, Argan, has plenty to complain about without the benefit of health insurance, what with the cost of enemas and all.

Enemas, for better or worse, make up much the dialogue and some of the sight gags in The Imaginary Invalid, now coughing up a lung at the Todd Haimes Theater. Legendary clown Bill Irwin has adapted the play (from Doug Skinner’s translation), and Brandon J. Dirden (Tony nominated for his Pozzo in Waiting for Godot) directs. But the two seem at odds from the outset, with Irwin’s cheekiness butting up against Dirden’s stiff pacing.

The story is straightforward enough. Argan (Irwin) is fed up with expensive treatments prescribed by the quack Dr. Purgon (Brooks Ashmanskas). To save money, he decides that his daughter, Angelique (Ava Lalezarzadeh), must marry a doctor, the silly medical student Thomas (Hiram Delgado). But Angelique is in love with the dashing Cleante (Daniel Croix Henderson), whose ignorance of enemas makes him an ineligible suitor. So Cleante poses as a music teacher and enlists the help of sassy maid Toinette (Rachel Bloom) and Argan’s brother, Beralde (Dylan Baker), to expose Thomas’s mental instability and reveal the treachery of Argan’s gold-digging wife, Beline (Crystal A. Dickinson).

Irwin, deeply versed in the history of comedy, asks us to see Invalid in the commedia dell’arte tradition with an unusual and captivating portrayal of the stock character Pantalone (an analogue for Argan) in the opening scene (John Gromada composed the enchanting music). One of the characteristics of that theatrical style was improvisation, with actors making up their own witty dialogue. Is that what’s store for us?

Alas, no. Once Beowulf Boritt’s gorgeous Louis XIV set magically assembles and presents us with Argan in a recliner going over medical bills for what feels like an eternity, the play ambles on without a hint of anything spontaneous.

That’s too bad, because Irwin’s adaptation might have easily lent itself to the style of a Carol Burnett skit if Dirden had loosened the reins and let the camp horses run. But there’s no cohesive comedic sensibility here to unite the actors in Molière’s loony world of lovers and charlatans. I would have given my left tonsil to see Ashmanskas break character with Delgado, à la Harvey Korman and Tim Conway.

Ironically, one of the biggest chuckles comes when Irwin delivers Argan’s commentary on Molière: “I mean, do people actually laugh when they pay their good money and go to those plays of his? I hear it is often very quiet in his theaters.” Talk about a self-administered jab.

When the jokes do land, they land well. Bloom is adept at snappy delivery, and Delgado nails all three of his roles, including the scheming notary Bonnefoy. Ashmanskas is funny just being himself in the ridiculously extravagant wigs designed by Nikiya Mathis, and Dickinson, though shrieky one time too many, plays the deceptive Beline with gusto.

Even though the laughs are hit-or-miss, at least the production looks amazing. Besides Boritt’s impressive set, Karen Perry’s costumes astound. Dickinson’s bosom-enhancing gown is all delicious black and red licorice threaded with shimmering silver; Lalezarzadeh’s is a peachy confection of frills; and Bloom’s haphazard dress looks like it was put together with scraps from the design-room floor. All are mini masterpieces of character.

It’s easy to understand why Roundabout chose to produce The Imaginary Invalid at this moment in America’s history. Our private-insurance system is too expensive. MAHA madness has taken hold of large swaths of our country. Backward-looking quacks like Molière’s Thomas are now in seats of power and are influencing public health policies. So yes, this Invalid’s heart is in the right place, but its funny bone is out of joint.