Tartuffe by Moliere

 Tartuffe by Moliere

 

Reading a new book can change your perspective. Tartuffe made me look at Moliere from a very different angle.

For me, Moliere used to mean: light comedies, satire and some characters that will come off very badly- we will laugh at them and learn never to do the same, if we are to avoid public opprobrium.

Tartuffe begs to differ and made me see that this classification was, if not completely wrong, at least shortsighted.

The chance to see and appreciate Moliere much more was given by a production in French, which was a unique opportunity to appreciate the Beauty of the language.

Over time, I had the chance to see a play performed by the Comedie Francaise on a stage in Bucharest- for that matter; the British National Theater performed at …our National Theater.

I was not taken aback by the Comedy Francaise which gave a whiff of cabotinage, but the British were excellent, with a modern Richard III, with a Nazi twist.

The audio performance of Tartuffe was “Magnifique” and made me understand my rather grave error in underestimating Moliere…surely, I enjoyed his plays and even movie adaptations (especially those with Luis de Funes) but I did not esteem Moliere.

Now I am in awe and find the great writer inspiring…by the way, awe and inspiration are two of the ten positivity traits, as researched and explained in Positivity by Barbara Fredrickson.

What I also missed in some of the other Moliere plays was  the Grace, noblesse, gallantry, beauty, politeness which were traits of that Middle Age, French society.

After reading about the appalling state of the human body in even the highest circles the most noble aristocracy and the king himself, I was flabbergasted and…disgusted.

The lack of hygiene, the throwing of faeces through the window, down on the streets (which even now takes place in shanty towns in Africa and other poor places) and the lack of what today is basic care for the state of one’s body were terrifying. People of the future will be appalled by the fact that we do not have gadgets that control and keep at maximum levels the freshness of our breath, the perspiration on our body, probably even the cleanness of our thoughts and mind…

But the language used by Moliere reminds me that his was an age when people were gallant, polite, noble and graceful…noblesse oblige.

I may be a terrible snob, especially since (and/or because) I was born in a humble abode, but I have a penchant for nobility, aristocracy. Blue blood may sometimes be associated with genetic diseases caused by inbreeding, but for me a noble still has a je ne sais quoi.

Tartuffe made me also think of my soft spot for the French culture. My daughter has been studying at the Lycee Francais for the past eight (I think) years, including maternelle. I love Proust, Camus, Pere Goriot, Le Rouge et Le Noir, Flaubert, Monet, Degas, Manet, Renoir, but meeting real French people can be a challenge.

True, coming to Romania is life changing event and adapting to the ways of a sometimes semi-barbaric society can be traumatizing.

And yet…I cannot figure out and sometimes accept the attitude of people who pretend they know better- so much better that they teach you lessons, but when it comes to doing things, they take all the worse habits- parking in the craziest spots, hitting the other cars around, acting superior, but driving with inferior attention, patronizing others who may know much more about their own culture, writers and painters than they do…this is for some I have met at school, in person and managed to avoid getting knocked up, driven over by …it is true that I have taken this crazy(?) habit of using a bicycle which does not seem to be in vogue in France, or anyway, not when applied in the French Guyana …

And when I look at their president, who should be representative, right…I have a nostalgia for Emil Constantinescu, who was more of a leader, dignified than the one who is cheating on a girlfriend, sneaking out in a ridiculous way on a scooter.

Moliere has used satire to laugh at and improve human frailties, and with all its shortcomings what a belle époque that was…what language, what manners,

 

Ou sont les neiges d’antan