Pusswedilla is a potentially explosive spark!
View(s):Under the rule of men entirely great, the pun is mightier than the gun. Also the sword. And the caricature unsightlier than the legislature. Pusswedilla’s fifth (and final?) outing with Thank You For Voting: The Antire Solooshen Summit proved that. In spades. Despite its detractors.
The play
Wily, smarmy, devious, egregious, charming (really, one runs out of admiring encomiums) politician Chaminda Pusswedilla plans to host a summit to end all summits – or, rather, resolutions against his beloved homeland, Arsikland. En route, he solicits and secures by hook or by crook the willing or unwilling cooperation of virtually everyone he encounters. Friends, followers, foes. To say nothing of the services of his “blithering idiot” of a “sectary”, the hysterical Cyril Nitharamasuffering. Challenged by the Western powers but befriended by Western leaders and championed by unexpected media ally Robert Westernthinking, Pusswedilla ably demonstrates that his brand of politics is far from being a damp squib. His irresistible charm and irrefutable casuistry combine in an explosive Molotov cocktail of wit, wisdom, and wisecrackery. His Glorious Honourable Excellency (HGHE) makes his enemies rue the day and some of his supporters rue it even more…
The penman
Feroze Kamardeen has come a long way from his days as a talented actor who dazzled audiences with his interpretation of Mercutio at the interschool Shakespeare competition in the early 1990s. Neither will theatre buffs be able to easily forget his dramatic and buzzing turn in the absurdist Edward Albee play Zoo Story. After experimenting with wearing two hats in sundry productions, the actor-turned-director has finally discovered his place in the sun. Politics is clearly his forte, satire a metier he’s doing well with, political satire (or what passes for it in our Blessed Isle) a medium that he is beginning to dabble cleverly in to the evident delight of politically naïve, savvy, blasé, audiences alike. Demonstrably a democrat or republican with a cynical streak, Kamardeen has taken the proverbial bull by its horns and managed to name the elephant in the room… an enterprise at which he is streets ahead of anything else he has done (most lamentably, Animal Farm). Having fumbled with a brace of Dario Fo’s dark plays on the ruthless and ambitious underbelly of politics, he is beginning to emerge as a writer with an agenda – someone who is very devilishly doing something with what he is saying. And about time.
The point
The big picture of the Pusswedilla franchise is that power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Kamardeen & Co. have realised with the rest of us patriots and citizens with a conscience and a spine that great men are nearly always bad men. That this vibrant and energetic theatre troupe are able to drive home the truth that there is no greater heresy than that the office sanctifies the holder of it – with fire, banked down by mirth – is highly commendable. It is a much needed shot in the arm for original English-language theatre that is gritty; deals with the realpolitik of the regimes we suffer under; and does it with class, style, and energy. Media freedom may be dead or dying, but artistic licence is alive and well in our isle.
The pointlessness
There are those who would argue that political satire (or what it passes for) is water off a duck’s back. That it accomplishes nothing. Maybe because this interpretation of a potentially powerful theatrical genre sets out neither to challenge nor change, but simply satirise and caricaturise. We would beg to differ. For in a milieu where most political actors are craven or capon, a production such as this (which is neither afraid nor emasculated) is an end in itself. If by virtue of existing, and perhaps being allowed to exist, it will raise the profile of dissent and the awareness that alternative or antithetical opinions can be expressed with impunity – it is also a means to an end. It is a welcome weapon in our dramaturgical panoply against the fall of night, taking serious business lightly.
The players
In a small but versatile cast that shone, it might be unfair to single out three or four (if you will pardon the mixed maths) performers. The most visible and violently manic outing was by Pasan Ranaweera as the imbecilic Cyril. Comic genius, with superlative out-of-control control! Kicking against the pricks while gyrating to his adoptive master’s tune, Gehan Blok as ‘Westa’ the media mole was equally energetic. But it was Dominic Kellar who bestrode the stage like a colossus for the nearly three-hour duration of a play with large chunks of bilingual text to master and masterfully deliver. He was perfect for the part of a porous, oozing, mercurial, pompous, slimy politico (and we mean it in the nicest possible way). Kellar has come to inhabit the mantle of “Friend of the People, Servant of the Nation, Son of the Village, Brother of Freedom, Father of Democracy” with great brio and aplomb.
The production
The theatrics began outside the auditorium, with a polling booth-type entrance where one ‘voted’ and had one’s ‘ballot’ (ticket) stamped. The shenanigans continued long after the play was over, with Puss posing for pictures with members of the audience. Some modicum of vim and vigour was added to a play that could have lacked vitality, by virtue of several (appropriate enough) song and dance routines being interpolated. The dialogue was witty; the acting flew; and the upshot sparkled.
The politics
Most puzzling is how – and why – Puss has survived the censors? And, more importantly perhaps, the powers that be? And whether the cloud or question mark that hangs over future or further outings is a reflection of some high-up disapprobation? We hope not! Here’s relevance at last. A local play by local folks about matters that matter most to us all. If we can’t all (powers included) have a chat, snicker, and good old giggle about it all, we might as well say “Cherry!” like Pusswedilla does… and abdicate!