Jesse Berger does it again. Whenever this director gleefully tangles with a classic comedy, he turns it into what’s often praised as “a laugh riot,” which isn’t always the case but definitely is here. This time it’s Molière’s hilarity The Imaginary Invalid, or as originally dubbed Le Malade Imaginaire. (Molière himself was originally dubbed Jean-Baptiste Poquelin.)
It arrives as a Jeffrey Hatcher adaptation and might be considered by some as “a laugh-a-minute” outing. That would be inaccurate. The laughs come far more frequently than one a minute. Far more, although the minutes are far fewer that Molière used. His productions tended to lean toward pageants and included beaucoup de dancing and singing. (Did 18th-century French audiences have more time to spend in their seats than today’s audiences so often in a hurry to get home?)
In Hatcher’s 90-minutes or so version that isn’t rhymed as other Molière comedies, imaginary, invalid Argan (Mark-Linn Baker)—he’s dramatic literature’s foremost hypochondriac—rules over his daughter Angelique (Emilie Kouatchou) and new wife of six weeks Béline (Emily Swallow) but not maid Toinette (Sarah Stiles). His domination comes by way of illnesses that, among other treatments, require frequent enemas.
Claiming worsening health whenever challenged on his autocratic decisions, Argan’s primary concern throughout the carryings-on is marrying Angelique to the son of Dr. Diafoirus (Arnie Burton). The designated groom is Thomas Diafoirus (Russell Daniels), two days short of attaining full physician status and a burly ignoramus completely devoid of any learning whatsoever. But he’s available, Argan argues, as an eventual in-house medic.
Unfortunately. Angelique has fallen in love, after a six-day courtship, with Cléante (John Yi), an iterant musician. Commanded by Argan to forget about the unknown suitor, she introduces him to the household as her voice teacher. Others regularly coming and going include De Bonnefoi (Manoel Feliciano), Argan’s lawyer and Béline’s extra-marital affair. Dr. Purgon (Burton again) and Dr. Fleurant (Burton yet again) also make frequent house calls.
How it all comes out requires no spoiler alert. Molière knows his audiences expect his old(er) protagonists—so many Argan-alikes—to be foiled. Like Shakespeare’s aging men, they’re devoid of maturity. But whereas Lear learns too late, Argan may have wised up to some things at Toinette’s prompting, his complete makeover remains unresolved.
What’s certain is that director Berger has his usual firm casting grasp. To a man and woman these players have full commands of their parts, and more than simply inhabiting the roles, they radiate the kind of joy derived from playing them as an ensemble.
They all deserve to be singled out, Linn-Baker foremost as buffoonish Argan. He’s especially pleased with Argan’s enemas and regular posterior massaging events. Burton, playing his three parts and as the action proceeds having to make quick and then quicker changes, has the showiest assignment(s). His seen-it-all attitude as Dr. Purgon is particularly amusing. Daniels—dressed by costumer Tilly Grimes as what resembles Humpty Dumpty going to a birthday party for six-year-olds—gets giggles simply by standing still. Stiles’ knowing looks are attention-getters. Okay, safe to say they’re all outstanding.
Beowulf Boritt contributes his expectable, exceptional set. It’s only a single set to which he’s provided only two doors, one stage left and one stage right, fewer doors than are usually accorded farces. Nonetheless, they’re sufficient enough, surely for the across-set chase that ensues, during which each character appears to be chasing and chased at the same time. Boritt also decorates his Francophilic set with a framed Molière portrait, blessed be he.
Incidentally, the funniest prop currently on a Manhattan stage has to be the elaborate, late-revealed enema device provided by properties designer Laura Page Russell. Her adjustable, eventually menacing hospital chair is also a doozy.
In keeping with Molière’s partiality to musical interludes—too bad there was no such thing as recordings between his 1623-71 dates—Berger lays one in, choreographed by Tracy Bersley. It’s a fitting end to a terrifically fit Imaginary Invalid dust-off-highly-polished revival. As the French like to do, let’s all applaud in unison.
The Imaginary Invalid opened June 2, 2025, at New World Stages and runs through June 29. Tickets and information: redbulltheater.com
