André De Shields (Photo: Joan Marcus)
André De Shields is Tartuffe
By Deirdre Donovan
André De Shields presides over Tartuffe with a velvet-gloved authority that turns Molière’s satire into something intimate, hypnotic, and deliciously treacherous. Staged in the lavish library of House of the Redeemer, this candlelit production unfolds just feet from its audience, making hypocrisy feel both timeless—and uncomfortably close.
Long before Tartuffe became a staple of the classical canon, it scandalized 17th-century Paris and plunged Molière into the most anxious five years of his career. The play premiered in 1664 at Versailles as a three-act comedy for Louis XIV, who reportedly found it “extremely diverting.” But at the urging of his devout mother, Queen Anne, the king swiftly banned it, convinced that Molière’s satire mocked religion rather than religious hypocrisy. Molière defended the work tirelessly, but neither the king nor the censors were swayed until he rewrote Tartuffe as a five-act play with an ending that flattered the king, finally clearing the ban in 1669. Sadly, the original version—and the early adaptations that ignited the uproar—have not survived.
Though Molière’s original version has been lost, the story that endures is clear: set in the household of Orgon, Tartuffe follows a family thrown into turmoil when its patriarch falls under the spell of a sanctimonious impostor. Tartuffe’s counterfeit piety masks greed and desire, but once his true nature is revealed, the family unites to expose the fraud, dispel his influence, and restore balance and good sense to the home.
Returning to the current production, Ranjit Bolt, OBE, provides a razor-sharp translation that stays true to Molière while landing squarely in the present. The rhymes are crisp and nimble—pointed when they need to be—and even occasional near-rhymes (“poured” with “fraud,” for example) sharpen the satire rather than turning it sing-song. Consider the maid Dorine (Phoebe Dunn), who sizes up Tartuffe’s hold on Orgon (Chris Hahn) with unsparing clarity:
Dorine:
“As for Tartuffe, he knows his man,
He’ll bleed him bloodless if he can,
He’s worked out how to keep him hooked,
No opening is overlooked—
He is performing, all the time,
A sort of pious pantomime
For which my master has to pay.
He gives him money. Every day
More of his gold is being poured
Into the purse of this fat fraud.”
De Shields’ entrance as Tartuffe, about twenty minutes into the performance, is a sight to behold. A door swings open to reveal him in dark sunglasses and a sumptuous red robe, an ornate Christian cross gleaming at his chest. He remains silent—still as a supplicant—while the grand piano swells and strobe lights pulse around him, the room suddenly charged with an air of ceremony and grandeur.
De Shields doesn’t disappoint. At 79, he’s as sharp and spry as a man decades younger. One pivotal moment comes when Orgon’s hot-tempered son Damis (Tyler Hardwick) confronts Tartuffe for attempting to seduce his stepmother Elmire (Amber Iman) after overhearing an illicit exchange in the salon. Tartuffe, in a masterstroke of duplicity, immediately adopts the posture of a humble penitent—calling himself a weak sinner—while simultaneously dropping to the floor to perform pushups that would make Herschel Walker blush.
Amber Iman, André De Shields (Photo: Joan Marcus)
The audience smiles at the ease and flair of De Shields’ pushups, but his true brilliance surfaces once Orgon banishes Damis for daring to tarnish Tartuffe’s saintly image. In the famously ironic scene that follows, Elmire persuades Orgon to hide under a table to witness Tartuffe’s advances firsthand. She plays to Tartuffe’s vanity and desire, luring him into revealing his true nature. Here, De Shields transforms into a libertine with a capital “L”: he loosens his robe to display his trim physique, then slowly, suggestively, straddles the sofa beside Elmire. Add a recording of Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” into the atmosphere, and the room ripens into full, decadent farce. To seal the moment, De Shields’ Tartuffe murmurs to Elmire:
Tartuffe.
“The Ten Commandments don’t apply,
There’s no one here—just you and I.
It’s scandal that creates the sin;
This won’t get out, so let’s begin.”
Amber Iman, Phoebe Dunn, Todd Buonopane, Tyler Hardwick, Hannah Beck (Photo: Joan Marcus)
It goes without saying that this production, as conceived by Wooden, revels in camp. The ensemble—Hannah Beck, Todd Buonopane, Phoebe Dunn, Marcus Fitzpatrick, Chris Hahn, Tyler Hardwick, Charlie Lubeck, and Alexandra Socha—supports De Shields with verve, allowing him to insinuate himself ever more deeply as the master manipulator. This is Tartuffe in close quarters, where deception unfolds at point-blank range.
This production’s intimacy is its greatest asset. By placing Tartuffe’s schemes and seductions mere feet from the audience, Wooden and De Shields revive the play’s sting, making hypocrisy feel not like an old moral lesson but a living presence among us. It’s bold, witty, and irresistibly theatrical—well worth seeking out before its limited run ends.
House of the Redeemer
7 E. 95th. St., Manhattan
Running Time: 90 minutes, no intermission
Through November 23, 2025
