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Wednesday 5 November 2014

RCS, 04/11/2014

Hector MacMillan (after Molière) : The Hypochondriak

Final year BA Acting - Class of 2014/15
Royal Conservatoire of Scotland

It's generally acknowledged that Molière translates with great difficulty into English.  Something about the language, unless very brilliantly handled, just seems to squash the humour flat.  On the other hand, it translates astonishingly successfully into Lowlands Scots.  I know of five specific examples, and this adaptation of Le malade imaginaire, by Hector MacMillan, dating from 1987, is the third one I've seen.

It's not that the Scots are more like the French than the English are - they're not.  It may, however, be a reflection of the Auld Alliance, the loose, on- and off-again mutual cooperation treaty between the two countries that lasted almost three centuries, and left its mark on Scotland in numerous ways including, notably, in the language.  The amount of French-derived words present in Auld Scots is very striking, and they are used to good effect in these translations of Molière.  However, where MacMillan's work differs substantially from the two Robert Kemp plays I already knew is that it is, principally, a pure translation, where Kemp offered adaptations.

MacMillan keeps all the character names, which have little or no significance in Scots/English, and there is no attempt to transpose the topical references into a Scottish context, whereas Kemp categorically located the action of his adaptations in 18th Century Edinburgh, and accordingly modified his translations to suit.  Although MacMillan's translation is wittily done, I missed the sheer ingenuity of what Kemp achieved.  Where the lack of acculturation really jarred was in Argan's constant refrain that he's going to put his daughter in a convent if she doesn't marry the man he has chosen for her.  Not only were convents not really a traditional aspect of either the Presbyterian or Episcopalian Churches of Scotland, but in setting the play around the turn of the 19th Century, the director Ali de Souza ignored or forgot that Catholicism was illegal in Scotland at that time.

That aside, however, this was a lively performance, delivered with zest by the Conservatoire's young students.  Phillip Laing had the title role, and kept it well balanced, so that Argan was both ridiculous (which he undoubtedly is), yet sympathetic.  You're not meant to dislike the character, despite his obstinacy, because he's a decent man at heart, but it can be easy to slip into something distinctly less congenial, and Laing managed to avoid that pitfall neatly.  Opposite him, as the epitome of sagacity, was Amy Conachan's Toinette, droll and practical, determined to knock some common sense into her deluded master one way or another.  Toinette is the mainstay of the household, a servant there for years, clearly present while the previous mistress was still alive, certainly while Angélique has been growing up, and before the installation of Argan's second wife, and Conachan is obviously too young to be able to give us that aspect of the character, but she did well enough in the more archetypal "bright servant to a duller master" side of the role.

Sara Clark Downe, as Angélique, was the actor I found the hardest to understand, and I thought she looked too happy during the whole presentation scene - if she was trying to pull off a fake or uncomfortable smile, it didn't quite work.  Katie Leung, on the other hand, as Béline, started out a little over-arch, but quickly steadied into a nicely insinuating mode as the gold-digging step-mother.  Andrew Barrett (the only name I knew, having seen him with the RSNO at the Cottier in June) was a personable Cléante, and the bogus singing lesson was hilariously excruciating.

Nebli Basani, doubling the roles of the slick lawyer Bonnefoy and the well-meaning brother Béralde, struck me as the most comfortable with the language, and made a good, clear impression in both parts, while Cody Gunn was a bit indistinct as Diafoirus, but went on to produce a splendidly furious Purgon.  Ryan Havelin handled Thomas very well indeed, more awkward than really stupid, with a suggestion that under different circumstances, there might actually have been someone tolerable beneath the affected surface.  So, good performances all round and crisp direction combined with a simple, but handsome set and costumes, made for an agreeably perky evening's diversion.

[Next : 6th November]

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