In Prosperous Fools—MacArthur Fellow Taylor Mac’s spin on Molière’s Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme—the stage directions indicate that a character named $#@%$ (Jason O’Connell) is “a philanthropic billionaire.”
Note the dollar sign at both ends of the hyperbolic moniker, which is pronounced, stage directions require, “as if a censor buzzer has just gone off.” There you have the tip-off to what Mac, who also appears as “Artist,” aims at in this ferocious lunge at monied upstart arts benefactors. Mac is echoing Molière’s bourgeois gentleman brazenly hoping to better his social standing.
[Read Michael Sommers’s ★★☆☆☆ review here.]
That Mac is ribbing contemporary bourgeois gentleman Elon Musk (now out of White House favor, of course) is clear. $#@%$ is described as a “husk,” with O’Connell mimicking the grand Musk gestures (drug-induced, recent reports hint) and sporting a cap and a T-shirt with a fatuous slogan.
So then, what we definitely have here is Mac’s satire on underwriting the arts. But rather than dragging out the unfortunate news of the Fellow’s latest property, let’s just state outright that Prosperous Fools isn’t very good, not nearly as accomplished as Mac’s best work. Indeed, it’s no more than sophomoric, if that’s not an insult to sophomores.
The best approach to it is simply listing some of the details. Artist is an unrelenting campaigner supported by histrionic rich lady Philanthropoid (Jennifer Reagon). Surrounding them are Prometheus (Ian Francis Paget), frantic Intern (Kaliswa Brewster), Stage Manager (Jennifer Smith), and Muse #1 (Em Stockwell), Muse #2 (Megumi Iwama), and Muse #3 (Cara Seymour). The latter three represent the performers Molière always included for the pageantry he enjoyed and which his audience expected when basking in what he called a “comedy-ballet.”
Perhaps the most stage-grabbing Prosperous Fools character is ####-### (Sierra Boggess), a great lady of the stage, whose nailed-on smile betrays her insincerity. Swanning hither and thither in a glittery ball gown (Anita Yavich, the costumer), Boggess gives the unhappy production’s best performance, minimizing the eventual dramatic bore ####-### becomes as written. (Has Mac at all welcomed trimming suggestions expert director Darko Tresnjak and/or expert dramaturg Jonathan Kalb perhaps offered?)
Aside from Pot-Bellied Child (Aerina Park DeBoer), who only shows up a few times, there is another prominent figure eating up stage space. Why, if it isn’t playwright/actor Wallace Shawn, known throughout here as Wally. This Wally isn’t an actor but a puppet with floppy legs. Whenever he’s in the spotlight, the head of Mac-as-Artist is stuck in the puppet’s head. Et voila!
Evidently, Mac sees Shawn as a charity foundation favorite and therefore a handy synecdoche. On encountering Wally, $#@%$ says, “My philanthropoid told me, to seem cultured I need to hang out with cultured people, so you have to be Wally Shawn.”
What’s going on here comes across as a private rivalry aired publicly. The result would hardly be amusing to spectators with little or no knowledge of Shawn. (Is there an actual stand-off between Mac and Shawn of which Shawn may or may not be aware? Or the rest of us, for that matter?)
So, there are the first-act contents in brief, which prompts the thought that there is an unwritten theater rule that goes, “If the first act is bad, the second act is worse.” Rarely breached, it isn’t here. The second act, for which the word “superfluity” would merely begin to suggest what it achieves, fires in several gobsmacking directions, including a lengthy and jaw-dropping Musk tirade.
The speech, which could have used Musk’s foolishly wielded chainsaw, is triggered by the tiresome fellow’s receiving some sort of grateful donor award at the dance company gala he’s attending. Into its profuse musings Mac drops the phrase “flood the zone” so’s to remind dizzy-eyed spectators of just who’s so tediously blathering here.
When (at last) the second act ends, Mac indulges a bit of intrigue. Positioned alone downstage center in a jester’s cap, the author-actor delivers an epilogue. Consisting of 54 cleverly rhymed couplets, its purpose is mind-teasing. (Molière composed Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme in prose and included no envoi.)
Mac discusses the production’s imminent curtain call, admonishing patrons that leaving before or during the curtain call is rude—other than, that is, answering a call to the restrooms. Between the rhymed-couplet lines, however, is the strong hint that Mac knows how deficient this work is but chooses to blame the audience for its poor reception.
A final note: Everyone has a right to hits and misses. That pertains to geniuses, too. Here’s hoping that any MacArthur Fellow influencers in the Prosperous Fools crowds possibly having second thoughts about their previous decision remember that every Doge has his off day.
Prosperous Fools opened June 12, 2025, at the Polonsky Shakespeare Center and runs through June 29. Tickets and information: tfana.org
