THE LEARNED LADIES
The plot is typical of Moliere: Philaminte, her daughter Armande, and her sister-in-law Belise have become rabid culture vultures. And they believe that pursuits philosophical, scientific, and aesthetic are all embodied in an all-purpose paragon by the name of Trissotin. (A more objective witness describes him as a man who “hugs himself / Before his volumes ranged upon a shelf.”) So enamored have the ladies become of cerebral snake oil that they fire competent servants for the impudence of using bad grammar. “We must be / At pains to make these parts of speech agree,” Belise admonishes. To which a hapless maid replies: “Let them agree or squabble–what does it matter?”
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It will continue to be winter undoubtedly, but maybe audiences will get over their terror of a little snow. One hundred and eighteen theater seats are a terrible thing to waste.
