Arizona Theatre Company Takes On Pierre Corneille's 'L'Illusion Comique.' By Margaret Regan PIERRE CORNEILLE was one of the great playwrights of the golden age of French theatre, that long stretch of the 17th century when plays were mostly high-minded affairs that reworked the myths of classical antiquity and not so incidentally upheld the divine rights of kings. Generations of French schoolchildren (and French majors like myself) have labored over Corneille's tragedies in verse, his Polyceute and Le Cid and Horace. Yet it seems the great tragedian had a lighter side too, and like his friend Moliére, who usually handled the comic end of things on the French stage, was capable of stinging satire. The Arizona Theatre Company's new production is a challenging adaptation of Corneille's 1635 comedy L'Illusion Comique, an adaptation by, of all people, Tony Kushner. Kushner is the award-laden contemporary author of Angels in America, the sweeping tragicomedy about AIDS and politics at the end of the American century. Kushner's Illusion is not altogether a different affair from Corneille's. He's changed the tight verse of Corneille to freewheeling, sometimes colloquial language, and he's added some scenes. Yet the setting is still 17th-century France, and its plot machinations and characters are staples of classic French comedy. There is, for instance, the inevitable saucy servant girl, played in sprightly fashion by Suzanne Bouchard. As per usual, the servant, known variously as Elicia, Lyse and Clarina, has 10 times the wit of the aristocrats around her. The romantic young hero, too, in contrast to his steadfast counterpart in classic tragedy, is afflicted with a most decidedly wandering eye despite his protestations of love for his high-born lady (Terri McMahon). Known as Calisto, Clindor or Theogenes at different moments of the play, this enterprising young fellow (David Ellenstein) woos women for their bodily charms as well as their earthly treasures. There's also the typical tyrannical father eager to marry off his lovely daughter to the creepy young aristocrat at hand, and even a bumbling nobleman (Robert Nadir) who can never get his sword out of its sheath when it counts. These familiar props notwithstanding, The Illusion is more than just a simple castle-bedroom farce and more than a satire about stagnant social hierarchies. The story of the young lovers is a play-within-a-play, conjured up in a gorgeously constructed cave belonging to the magician Alcandre (Ken Ruta). The young lover's father, Pridamant of Avignon (James H. Lawless), regrets having booted out his difficult son in the days of his early manhood. After 15 years, he has come to the magician for help: He's old now, and though not exactly regretful, he'd like his son back, or at least he'd like to know where life has taken him. Assisted by his elf-life Amanuensis (Francis Jue), the magician causes the events of the young man's life to be played back for the selfish old man. Calisto's life unfolds before Pridamant and the audience like a play, or even like a videotape that can be stopped and started at will. Like Prospero in Shakespeare's Tempest, written some 20 years before Corneille's play, the magical Alcandre is a stand-in for the magical illusions of the theatre. Like the befuddled Pridamant, we can never be exactly sure of what we're seeing. Each time we're seduced into a scene, it quickly dissolves and disappears forever. The characters reappear in new identities. Nothing can be grasped with any surety. Kushner adds a little post-modern overlay to all this, by making his characters--and audience--hyperconscious of the artificiality of the stage. And the illusions of the theatre are also a recurring metaphor for Corneille's view of the illusions of love: Love is never quite what it seems; young infatuations give way to married distress. The Illusion's complicated premise is clever and charming by turns, but it's not easy to find one's way into this play. The first act is overly long and confusing: Not yet initiated into the theatrical game at hand, we tire of the long speeches and the constantly changing characters. But the second act gains in intensity, as we begin to see where the author is taking us. The eight fine actors in this production, directed by David Ira Goldstein, have all played at ATC before, and they attack their parts with enthusiasm. But without the marvel of the set by Jeff Thompson, it's doubtful their Illusion could be conjured up at all. In the center of the magician's fantastic cave a red theatrical curtain falls from a circle on the ceiling: Shot through by lights and pulled up and down, it's a prison and a garden and a curtain to the past. A wide semicircle at rear stage frames the heavens and the earth. Most importantly, there are mechanical contrivances of all sorts, the magician's tools for his illusions. From a frankly fake metallic contrivance, Alcandre manages to prop up the full moon, whose lovely light shines upon the lovers. It's at once both true and false. Arizona Theatre Company's The Illusion continues through Saturday, March 22, at the Temple of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave. Tickets range from $18 to $27. For information or for reservations call 622-2823.

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