Les Liaisons Dangereuses is a delicious text. Adapted by Christopher Hampton from Choderlos de Laclos’ 18th century epistolary novel charting the correspondence between several parties involved in a set of interconnect sexual conquests aimed at destroying virtuous reputations and enhancing wicked ones, it is alternately sharp, sweet, spicy, cool, and intoxicating - a luxurious meal of flavoursome self-indulgence.
Hampton’s icy and ironic reframing of the original novel presents scenes of dialogue and confrontation described or implied in the letters. This produces genuine dramatic spark on stage. The characters come with a wonderfully specific linguistic mode of address, combining ennui with a savage passion rooted in repression and disappointment. Their words demand to be savoured, and with each beautifully modulated verbal salvo (Valmont “never opens his mouth to speak without first calculating how much damage he can do with it”), delivered in casual or not so casual conversation, comes another delectable set of complex emotional, psychological, social, and sexual ingredients.
Before we dispense with the gustatory simile, it has to be said that the one thing that Les Liaisons Dangereuses should never be is bland. With constituents like this, it would seem impossible to strip it of its zest. This is, unfortunately, exactly what director Michael Barker-Caven’s new production at The Gate has done. All the flavour and the colour of this world is gone, all the richness is reduced to mechanical theatrics, in spite of some good performances from the female cast. It is as if Barker-Caven couldn’t really think of anything to do, and so opted for straightforward blocking and moving against a functional backdrop, hoping the cast would just carry the text.
A great deal of the fault for its emptiness lies with Nick Dunning as Valmont. This is a wonderful role, interpreted definitively by at least two well known world class actors: Alan Rickman in the original London production and John Malkovich in the 1988 film (who was, it should be recalled, roundly criticised by the theatrical establishment in comparison to Rickman), and there is no doubt that any actor stepping into the part knows he must strive hard to make it his own. Dunning, however, has made what seems a misstep in presenting Valmont as so sociopathically disconnected and incapable of feeling that he doesn’t even seem to relish his games with former lover La Marquise de Merteuil (Fiona Bell). He speaks much too quickly, as if eager to get the words out and be done with it, and delivers in a flat monotone for the most part. This is matched by a facial expression of frozen disinterest, one singularly lacking in wicked heart. The point of all this seems to be to give weight to the character’s later conversion to something approaching genuine emotion following his dalliance with La Presidente de Tourvel (Catherine Walker), and, to be fair, the play comes to life much more in its later scenes, but the cumulative effect of spending time with this Valmont is dumbfoundment that any of his female conquests would find him interesting or charismatic, and this kills the production. At opening night, there were actual guffaws during his death scene. Not good.
Fiona Bell fares much better as Merteuil. The actor is able to find a register of angry disdain from which she can move to identifiably layered emotional dimensions, from cynicism to romantic fury. Equally effective is Catherine Walker, who capably and movingly portrays the sense of nervous desire blossoming into overwhelming passion that makes her character sympathetic. Susan FitzGerald is also good in the one-note but crucial role of Madame de Volanges, and as a former Marquise de Merteuil herself (The Gate, 1987) is a steadying influence. Jane McGrath is a flighty enough Cécile de Volanges, but the seduction / rape scene with Valmont is creepier than it usually is because of Dunning’s absolute lack of sexual allure, and it feels considerably less likely to produce the required narrative result (that Cécile is ultimately happy to continue her ‘instruction’). It really is too easy for this Valmont. Because the script demands these various females fall to his charms, they will. Alas though, in this case, it jars, as does much else in the narrative that requires Valmont to embody and personify the socio-cultural and psychological paradoxes at work in this story, and with nothing at all to fall back on in terms of directorial imagination that would render these things visible some other way, the play falters.
Dr. Harvey O'Brien, O'Kane Centre for Film Studies, University College Dublin.