'The Imaginary Invalid' Broadway Review: Bill Irwin Loses Something in Translation

In the hushed glow of the Todd Haimes Theatre, Bill Irwin stepped onto the stage as Molière’s Argan, the hypochondriac whose first act of the play is an enema so dramatic it could have been a circus trick. The audience, however, offered only a few nervous giggles when he made his way to the bathroom. The moment felt like a quiet confession, a private joke that didn’t translate into the public laughter the play had promised.

The production, directed by Brandon J. Dirden, was billed as a screwball comedy, yet the timing of its jokes seemed off. Crystal A. Dickinson played Beline, Argan’s second wife, whose moment of joystrip‑teasing at the thought of her husband's deathwas met with a muted reaction. Even the improvised opera by Ava Lalezarzadeh (Angelique) and Daniel Croix Henderson (Cleante), mocking Argan’s insistence on a doctor‑marriage, fell flat. The audience’s silence felt less like a critique of the performers and more like a cultural disconnect.

The stage was a riot of color, courtesy of Karen Perry. The designer’s lavish costumes would have been a fitting backdrop for Rossini’s comic operas, but in this adaptation they felt excessive. The original 17th‑century French comedy, with its three‑hour runtime and liquor‑laced intermissions, had been trimmed to a 90‑minute show without a break. The lack of a pause left the audience craving a drink, a small but telling detail that the energy of the production was running thin.

Amid the stilted humor, Brooks Ashmanskas as a charlatan doctor delivered a surprisingly buoyant performance. His wig, a wavy blond by Nikiya Mathis, echoed the charm of classic film icons, while his voice added a playful parody that resonated. Hiram Delgado also shone as a black pageboy, his high‑pitched squeal cutting through the play’s muddle. These moments proved that talent could still surface, even when the overall direction faltered.

The play’s finale offered a different tone. When Argan finally overcomes his phobias, Irwin performs a gentle soft‑shoe dance with a cane. It was a tender, almost cinematic moment that contrasted sharply with the earlier, more chaotic scenes. The audience seemed to lean in, perhaps sensing the genuine humanity beneath the comedy.

I’ve watched many revivals of classic works, and the challenge always lies in balancing respect for the source with relevance for modern viewers. In this case, the adaptation’s pacing and comedic choices felt out of sync with the audience’s expectations. The performers’ skill was clear, but the direction and design choices diluted the impact.

Looking ahead, The Imaginary Invalid may find a new life if future productions recalibrate the humor’s timing and streamline the visual extravagance. The core storyof a man who fears illness more than liferemains potent. With a tighter script and a clearer comedic rhythm, the play could once again invite the laughter it was meant to elicit.