Moliere Finborough Theatre 3 December

**

Dull dull dull dull.  This play–which is supposed to represent Moliere’s status of endangered court favourite as a parallel to author Mikhail Bulgakov’s difficult position in relation to Stalin–completely failed to make any impression on me (but the audience members with loudly-expressed respiratory conditions did).

As Moliere, Justin Avoth was clearly the same age as the putative grand-daughter Armande (Antonia Kinlay) he was going to marry, even if he did limp a bit.  Nor was there any feeling of the demonic energy of  man who could do such a thing; and indeed write, rehearse and present a play in a fortnight.  And Gyuri Sarossy did not give any impression of an absolute monarch deigning to amuse himself with a dubiously-worthy subject for a moment or two.

A lot of care had been lavished on costumes and props, but the actors could or would not pronounce French titles properly, which made for a strange situation when King Louis expressed himself in the French of Stratford-atte-Bowe.

Ben Warwick was effective as the evil Archbishop, and so was Kett Turton as the disloyal Moirron.

*sigh*

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