Tart O.C.-Set ‘Tartuffe’

A holy man revealed as a slavering sexaholic, a prominent family shamed and a business empire in danger of being taken over.

This could be the story leading the 5 o’clock news, but it’s the 328-year-old tale told in Moliere’s satiric masterpiece, “Tartuffe.”

To ensure no one misses the parallels to today, those mischief-makers over at Stages have updated Moliere’s story to present-day Orange County, behind the scenes at a religious-broadcasting empire. This probably won’t win Stages any friends at O.C.’s powerful Trinity Broadcasting Network, but then, everything about this production seems calculated to push as many buttons and ruffle as many feathers as possible.

It’s great fun, in a wild, anarchic way--even though the amateur cast isn’t always up to the challenge.

Tartuffe is one of theater’s greatest creations, a bounder hiding behind a mask of piety. Oh, he worships all right, but not God. Upon becoming a rich family’s spiritual leader, he seeks union of a none too holy kind with the lady of the house--and with her husband’s fortune.

In this adaptation, envisioned by company members Joel Beers and Patrick Gwaltney and staged by Gwaltney, the rich husband, Orgon, is a man who has found God only after a life for which he was known as “the king of sleaze.” He began to amass a fortune in the porn business, then built a broadcasting empire specializing in violent dramas and confrontational talk shows. After meeting the evangelical Tartuffe, he abruptly switches to 24-hour religious programming.

Investigative television reports--seen on a screen in the family’s living room--probe Orgon’s surprising turnaround, questioning Tartuffe’s motives. This is one of the production’s smartest tweaks. Though badly lighted and hollowly miked, the reports cleverly help to propel and, ultimately, to resolve the story. That the investigation is as ethically compromised as the scandal it tracks provides an additional level of commentary.

Hypocrisy--in all its guises--gets thoroughly skewered. As Moliere intended.

As Tartuffe, Bradley A. Whitfield affects the twanging speech patterns of a Southern revivalist minister, only to let them drop the moment he thinks Orgon is out of hearing range.

Though he could play the part with a lot more verve, Whitfield’s characterization at least makes sense. Gavin Carlton invests Orgon with a lot of energy, but what’s he trying to achieve with his hunched shoulders, pouting lower lip and thick speech? Is he impersonating Orange County son Richard Milhous Nixon? Or Marlon Brando in “The Godfather”? Or, perhaps, Penthouse founder Larry Flynt?

Orgon’s household consists of his young wife, Elmire (Tracy Perdue, who’s flashy and tacky, yet sharp as a tack); his lovely, obedient daughter, Mariane (Mo Arii, dressed in a perky mall-hopping ensemble of short skirt and tight top); his grunged-out, martial-arts aficionado son, Damis (Nick Boicourt), and an outspoken, retro hippie maid, Dorine (Jennifer Bishton, dressed in a crocheted top and Army fatigue pants).

Typical of this production’s feisty spirit is the lover’s spat between Mariane and her preppy beau, Valere (Frank Tryon, in a Chapman University sweatshirt).

When Valere arrives for a visit, he and his beloved at first coo icky-sweet endearments at one another. Their encounter quickly devolves, however, when Valere feels Mariane isn’t showing adequate regret about her forced engagement to Tartuffe. Soon they’re acting like kindergartners, stomping about and working themselves into such a tizzy that they can only spit, “Fine” “Fine,” at one another.

Bishton, giving the show’s standout performance, parks them in chairs and instructs them to breathe deeply, while she climbs onto the table between them and tucks herself into lotus position.

BE THERE

* “Tartuffe,” Stages, 1188 N. Fountain Way, Suite E, Anaheim. Friday-Saturday, 8 p.m.; this Sunday only, 6 p.m. Ends Jan. 31. (714) 630-3059. $10. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes.