"Dangereuses" times, then and now

The Schoolhouse Theater, in Croton Falls, N.Y., surely has one of the most varied seasons of any regional theater, starting with a searing portrait of Louis Armstrong in "Satchmo at the Waldorf," ending the season in December with the British hijinks of "Jeeves and Wooster in 'Perfect Nonsense'" and now, mid-season, presenting "Les Liaisons Dangereuses," running until Sept. 21.  

A dark story of sexual intrigue among the pre-revolutionary French upper classes, "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" was written by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, a military officer from the bourgeoisie who encountered members of the nobility as he rose through the ranks. It was published in 1782.

Written in the form of a series of letters, the story relates the amorous adventures of Mme. de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont, former lovers and kindred spirits in ruthless psychological manipulation. 

The book was turned into this play by British playwright Christopher Hampton and produced in 1985 to great acclaim, followed by a 1988 film.

The Schoolhouse production, directed by Owen Thompson, opens upon a traditional, lovely 18th-century salon, courtesy of set designer Tony Andrea and scenic artist Isabelle Favette. Throughout the play, rearranged furniture and a sliding panel suggest other salons, other boudoirs.

Patrick Zeller as Valmont and
Elizah Knight as de Tourvel

Merteuil (played by Elisabeth S. Rodgers) is playing cards with her cousin, Mme. de Volanges (Lisa Ann Goldsmith), whose 15-year-old daughter, Cecile (Kate Day Magocsi) has just left the convent where she has been educated. 

While the Volanges women are in the room, Merteuil and Valmont are all politesse, but when they leave, their voices harden and Merteuil makes a shocking proposal to Valmont: seduce the girl so that the man who really wants her -- Gercourt, himself a lover who left Merteuil -- will be humiliated. 

Valmont, who prides himself on his "reputation" as a seducer, has a different plan. A married lady of known virtue, Mme. de Tourvel (Elizah Knight) is staying with his aunt, Mme. de Rosemonde (Brinton Parson).Getting her into bed would be a real triumph:  "I want her to believe in God and virtue and the sanctity of marriage, and still not be able to stop herself ... I want the excitement of watching her betray everything that's most important to her."

Patrick Zeller as Valmont and
 Elisabeth S. Rodgers as Merteuil

The intensity of his ardor stings Merteuil, who recalls when she and Valmont were lovers. Surely he isn't in love? "Love is something you use, not something you fall into, like quicksand," she remarks.

And so the spiders begin weaving their webs, also drawing in a young man who is genuinely attracted to Cecile, Chevalier Danceny (Max Murray). Merteuil and Valmont use lies, emotional deception, even sexual assault as they play amoral games with real people's lives. 

What trips them up, to their surprise, is genuine emotion. Valmont really is in love with De Tourvel, who softens his heart with her sincerity and vulnerability. Merteuil's jealous pride as the "woman scorned" turns her heart to stone. Deceit builds on deceit, reaching a deadly conclusion. 

Laclos' "Liaisons" still fascinate us since the beautifully-dressed characters (courtesy of costume designer Nancy Nichols) toss off such sophisticated witticisms as, "I think there's something very degrading about having a husband for a rival. It's humiliating if you fail and commonplace if you succeed."

Thompson is well aware of the parallel with today as his director's notes read that "lace cuffs have given way to tailored suits, gilded coaches to private jets." Valmont and Merteuil's downfall and the rot under their schemes echoes Epstein and Maxwell, one dead in prison, the other still in prison.

Rodgers and Zeller give sensational performances as Merteuil and Valmont. Merteuil has been hardened by the realities of her society: "One of the reasons I never remarried, despite a quite bewildering

range of offers, was the determination never again to be ordered around." Rodgers gives a brilliant and affecting portrait of a woman fighting against her own heart. Zeller's aggressive energy is undeniable, as Valmont, too, finds a kind of benediction along with the cynicism. 

Knight beautifully conveys de Tourvel's emotional agony, playing a character whose hysteria could get tedious -- but not in her hands. Magosci's fresh-faced Cecile is charming. However, I don't quite buy the script's portrayal (no knock on the actor) of Cecile as a girl who is quickly convinced that rape is necessary "instruction" in the bedroom arts.  

Goldsmith's Volanges is as wise, but not as hard, as Merteuil. Murray's Danceny is an innocent young man until he's forced to face up to Valmont's actions. Parson expresses de Rosemonde's slight cluelessness but I wish she had spoken a bit louder at this performance since her lines were sometimes hard to hear. Overall, the pace was sometimes a tad slow. Dennis Parichy's lighting design, as usual, was highly professional, with such nice touches as the sequential illumination of the wall sconces to begin the play.

They are a fascinating crowd, these French aristocrats with no scruples -- and as contemporary as today's headlines. 

Satchmo: A life of improvisation

The Schoolhouse Theater, in Croton Falls, N.Y. presents a range of plays but it just so happens that the last three plays I've seen there have been about various facets of the black experience and the most recent, "Satchmo at the Waldorf", by Terry Teachout, directed by Bram Lewis, (running through June 8, 2025) is well worth a visit. 

"Satchmo" was Louis Armstrong (1901-1971), one of the great entertainers of the 20th century. His trumpet playing revolutionized jazz and his singing and joyful stage persona made him beloved by millions.

Louis Armstrong in 1955. Photo/Herbert Behrens

At the height of his fame, in the 1960s, his recording of "Hello, Dolly!" bumped the Beatles from the no. 1 spot on the record sales charts. Watch this clip of "Dolly" from a 1965 Berlin concert - it's all there, the incandescent personality, the improvising horn, the scat singing. The U.S. State Department sent him on a performance tour of Africa, Europe and Asia as an American good-will ambassador. 

However, the "Satch" (a nickname derived from "satchel mouth," referring to his wide mouth) we meet in this play is the private Armstrong.

In a sensational performance by Wali Jamal, this Armstrong paces his dressing room at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York before a gig in the high-class Empire Room.

He has reached the top of the show business world, with a comfortable room at a prestigious hotel, yet the days when black performers had to find segregated roadhouses and get food from the back doors of restaurant kitchens crowd his memories. 

Wali Jamal as Louis Armstrong

This is a different Armstrong from the man on stage who always sported a huge grin. His first words in play are, "I shit myself tonight." (The play contains a truly spectacular amount of profanity.) He is preoccupied with his declining health, in May 1971, in what will be his last gig before his death in July. 

Jamal brilliantly conveys the charisma of the man, born in the New Orleans red-light district of Storyville and sent to a boys' home at age 12 where he found the magic - a brass band.

Coming up in the jazz joints of New Orleans, Chicago and New York, Armstrong is squeezed by gangsters and finds manager Joe Glaser, a tough-talking Jew from Chicago -- also played by Jamal with a Southside accent and cigar in hand. 

They form a symbiotic partnership - Armstrong leaves all the business aspects to Glaser, whom he always calls "Mr. Glaser," and Glaser advises Armstrong to "stop blowing your brains out playing all them high Cs. That voice of yours - that's where the money is." They operate on a handshake instead of a contract.

Armstrong's story is riveting, but I began to wonder if the script would illustrate why his playing was so special. Then Armstrong turns on a recording of his "West End Blues," featuring a golden cadenza that he describes as playing "kinda like an opera singer showing off ... then I work my way up to that high C, let it ring out like Caruso."

While the 1960s brought Armstrong worldwide acclaim, social issues such as the civil rights movement and new forms of jazz such as be-bop clashed with his image. Putting on a pair of Miles Davis' signature sunglasses, Jamal becomes the cool rival trumpeter, who spares no words.

"Miles Davis loves the way Louis plays trumpet ... Can't play nothing that doesn't come from Louis, not even modern shit. But I hate the way Louis acts onstage. Man gets up there and pulls out that hankie and starts jumping around like Jim Crow on a stick - all to make them sad white motherfuckers happy." 

Davis' view intersects somewhat with my young years in the 1960s when my black music heroes were Jimi Hendrix and the Motown stars, and Louis Armstrong seemed like a nice, old-timey personality without much relevance to the present. I thought that about Ella Fitzgerald, too. Time and appreciation for their musical genius has shown me the shallowness of those early opinions. 

The audience at "Satchmo" was predominantly white, and this is the value of Schoolhouse Theater's bold play choices, courtesy of Lewis, producing director, and Owen Thompson, artistic director. One of the previous works I saw was "MisUnderstanding Mammy," a one-woman play in which actress Hattie McDaniel defends the maid and cook's roles she played against accusations of racial pandering. (The third play was "Master Harold ... and the Boys," set in the time of South African apartheid.) 

Director Lewis keeps the action interesting as Armstrong reminisces, holding his horn, or sits wide-legged as Joe Glaser. Jamal suggests Armstrong's distinctive gravelly voice then switches to Davis' smooth higher-pitched speaking tones, changing his body language for each of the three characters. 

Tom Christopher's set design is described in the program as "the style from the twenties known as Brutalism. Odd angles. Trapezoids."

I found it odd, indeed, since the play is set in the 1970s, Armstrong was a real person and the Waldorf is a real place. It was strange to see Armstrong pick up a phone handset shaped as a block of white plaster, but the nearly all-white set and impressionistic furniture certainly kept the focus on the main character and his emotions.

Dennis Parichy's lighting design literally and subtly highlights the character changes.

Toward the end of his life, he recorded "What a Wonderful World" and it became a signature song for him. This video is from an ABC broadcast in 1967 and between his great big smiles, you can see the seriousness of a man for whom music was existence itself.

About his horn, he says in the play, "Everything I got in this world come outta this. My life, my soul, all right here."

It is indeed a wonderful world that gave us Louis Armstrong.