A Fool’s Bet

La Bête plays risky and cleans up.
by Andria Regan
Rating: 4 out of 5

Of all life’s guaranteed miseries, there is one that will eventually knee us all in our tender loins: that moment when we realize that who we are—or who we’ve been—is inconsequential when stacked against that hot little thang walking by slutt’n her stuff and commanding the attention in which we once basked. It happened to Michael Jordan, it happened to un-sliced bread and if it hasn’t happened to you, it will.

La Bête pretends to be a comedy, but in the end it’s this tragic lesson you’re left with, and you’re bound to end up one of two ways: drunk on wine texting anyone who will tell you you’re pretty, or determined to keep on keepin’ on with your bad self, knowing that no one will ever outdo Jordan and that sliced bread is never as warm or fresh as the mighty loaf.

The Sacred Fools Theater Company chose their current production as only a confident fool can; La Bête proves the troupe strikingly endowed and yet appeals, most likely, to a very small portion of the already small theater-going crowd. The story is set in 17th century France and centers around playwright Elomire (Joe Jordan) who has found the comfort of monogamy in the nook of Prince Conti’s (understudy Christopher Gyre substituting for Christopher Nieman) theater pit. Elomire is refined and serious, penning thoughtful and highbrow plays for his company to perform. He’s the equivalent of the marrying type, the one you bring home to mamma. Unfortunately, the undisturbed beauty that Elomire presents is quickly fading under the intense flood-light of the exhaustingly energetic and obnoxious street performer Valere (Dan Mailley). The Prince is bored, looking to add a player to the mix, and Elomire is none too happy that crude Valere is up for the job.

It’s at this exact moment, a mere 10 minutes into the play, when The Sacred Fools either whip it out and grin knowingly, or blush with saggy drawers stuffed full of tube socks. I’ve never seen a play’s success depend more heavily on a single performance than La Bête depends on a fiercely played Valere. Our first introduction is a 30-minute, rambling train-of-thought monologue and it’s a relief that the job is in such capable hands as Dan Mailley’s. Teetering on annoying slapstick, Mailley chooses the higher ground in his all-or-nothing performance and wins with endearing honesty and awkward but familiar truths. He creates what seems a long-lost relative to pirate Jack Sparrow, all the while keeping it his own little unique masterpiece that deserves applause when the yellow hanky finally shuts him up, and gives the poor man a rest.

The battle between polished and cultured Elomire and the erratic Valere ensues with gifted and rhyming dialogue, ending in a showdown performance, and an unexpected, sorrowful departure by one of our leading men. We’re all left to wonder: who would we miss more?

It was a treat to sit back and play witness to the trusty Sacred Fools kicking the hell out of a play that might threaten to toss around a lesser contender. David Hirson wrote the monster and director Kiff Scholl gracefully commands it into a well-behaved pup. Still, the audience must keep a sharp ear and sharper mind to appreciate the rich language of this play. Thankfully, Mailley is not alone in his mastery of David Hirson’s rhyme; the rest of the cast humbly submit to their less flashy characters, and generously lay a brawny foundation, withstanding the weight of several wet marbles. Joe Jordan’s unselfish burden, carrying the load of the straight man, doesn’t go unnoticed, and without his stoic build no one can shine. Philip Newby plays lovable Bejart, the token hunchback, and makes me wish we never dissolved the tradition of such golden characters. Of notable performance is Rebecca Rhae Larsen who utters a syllable here and there as the odd, young housekeeper Dorine. It’s almost confusing that she can relay so much meaning by merely repeating such words as “blue” and “shoe” over and over again.

In the beginning, La Bête proposes the tag line, “One really has to wonder—who’s the fool?” and by the end, the answer is still up for grabs. It’s a matter of choosing between Beauty and La Bête, neither of which you want to see surrender. In any event, the Fools running the show this particular evening have nothing to worry about. La Bête is a fantastic surprise, and I’m eager to play audience member at the company’s next spectacle; they’re not only keepin’ on with their bad selves, but the Fools are also still turning heads. LAA

Reservations & Tickets: 310-281-8337 www.SacredFools.org. $20
Christopher Nieman.