THEATER REVIEW : ‘Misanthrope’: Reach Exceeds Its Grasp, at Least for Now

The formation of a new theater company is always fraught with anticipation. You look at the composition of the group, the artistic leadership, the expressed goals of the unit and you form expectations.

This is the case with the new Onstage Company, headed by Tony Award-winning director Mel Shapiro, which recently took up residence at the LimeLight Playhouse in North Hollywood with a production of Moliere’s “The Misanthrope.” Press materials promised that the group would be strong on ensemble playing.

This presaged a company that would not only rely heavily on acting skills, but also on the actors’ comfort with one another--a company, as the literature pointed out, that would emulate the teamwork of Moliere’s own company.

These are welcome goals even if the “Misanthrope” now on the LimeLight boards falls considerably short of them. And it is not because Shapiro, who staged this benign spoof of intellectual snobbery that trips over its own highmindedness, decided to shrink the play, updating it into the daily workouts of a modern-day gym.

Not at all. Under ideal conditions, such a concept could work. The notion of moving the dishing that these characters love to do from the salon to the sauna is feasible. With a tad more imagination, and no more cost, the change of locale would be acceptable.

Less acceptable is to have these “friends” do their yakking while lifting weights or doing push-ups--enterprises that require concentration and breath. The result is that they begin to exercise, but don’t finish, and what gets dropped is more than the intent that brought them there. Exercise interruptus has a mollifying effect on conversation. Timing is out the window.

Which is a long way of saying that what stands in the way of this production’s concept is its own incompleteness and the unevenness of the acting, whose declared objectives have not fully been met.

The actors, particularly big James Shanta as the misanthropic Alceste, aim for the outrageous and manage only to make it seem out of place. His frustrated and repressed effusions come off as the apoplectic implosions of a big ninny.

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In this overblown atmosphere, Elizabeth Lavoie’s temperate Eliante and James Nardini’s level-headed Philinte seem boringly bland, no contest for the blustery self-assurance of Michael Hartson’s Oronte, the confident arrogance of Steve Owsley’s Acaste or the calculated insinuations of Lisa Stewart’s catty Arsinoe.

She is a perfect foil for Lynn Clark’s vivid Celimene, the elusive object of Alceste’s desires and the one performance that seems cogently developed. Clark is wholly at ease both in her skin, in the role of a woman who enjoys seduction for its own sake, and in the production’s contemporary setting. On the other hand, if Paul Ramirez’s thick Chicano accent as Clitandre was intended to amuse, it is a joke as heavy-handed as his speech.

And so it goes. Sometimes up, mostly down. Rarely ensemble or swift. It may all be due to company starting pains, but it’s hard to refute a sense of disappointment.

*”The Misanthrope,” LimeLight Playhouse, 10634 Magnolia Blvd., North Hollywood. Fridays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Ends June 27. $12; (213) 466-1767). Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.