Okay, so I’m not much of a theatre go-er. Leave alone consider myself an aficionado, worthy of critiquing the nuances of theatrical productions or artistic performance. But to have stood in the pouring rain on a Friday evening, holding a complimentary ticket, to have been politely asked to leave as the show got cancelled, and to return with equal zest (if that’s what one can call it), the following day, again, mind you, holding that same complimentary ticket, meant that there was clearly something alluring in this one, and worthy of comment.
A seemingly random collection of acts from 13 different plays, narrative and discourse interspersed with the vernacular, a concoction of actors and actresses off the mainstream, representing a cross section of society, language and culture, and even pay-cheques, or so I was told. Produced and directed by William Scott Richards: over 12 years of directing theatre and training actors, of all hues, and no stranger to the island.
So, there was enough intrigue in all of that to get me to the British Council that evening. Here was something clearly off the beaten track. No reviews, no history, no big names, no branded attachments to compel the presence of those inane artificial audiences that attend more for party circuit flutter or “to be seen” (sorry, I’m bitter about that, so what?). You were here because you were intrigued, almost like delving into the unknown.
I’m not going to dispense any detailed description of the play, its plot, or its characters, for quite frankly, all of that’s impossible. Instead, quite unabashedly, the objective of this article is to coax, cajole, bully, entice the reader to coax, cajole, bully, entice, and downright demand the producers that this play be aired (appropriately, as it was outdoors) once, twice and thrice more for public consumption.
As I mentioned to one of the actors after the play; “thematically superb”, and “the versatility of the actors; stunning”. A veritable orgy of human drama, crisscrossing a gamut of emotions, politics, philosophy, sex, love, hate, religion, relationships, and the simple dictates and dilemmas of life, yet strung along a single, albeit seemingly tenuous thread that connects all humanity.
The stage set, meanderingly, amongst the audience exemplified the multiple perspectives that seemed to be generated. It seemed that what you saw, heard, and experienced, was a function of where you sat, in keeping with the theme of perspective and interpretation. A scattering of scaffoldings, from where, perched high above, the force of drama swirled, or no, was more likely propelled into the laps of those present, had the audience in an almost semi-interactive state. One wasn’t a spectator in all of this, more like participating prey.
A cast of over 30 souls; of all shapes, sizes, colours, accents and bad hairdos, but you’d never have known there were so many.
One seemed to know every one of them intimately. Such was the power of each act, each emotive outburst. It had been a while since I had left a performance, with the force of its characters still gnawing at my marrow, and the seamless adaptability of the actors to myriad roles, leaving me with a tinge of awe. Such latent talent.
It wasn’t just the overlap of characters of semi-story lines, of topic, argument and premise, but the seamless flow between the vernacular, both Tamil and Sinhala, and the alien, left one vacillating between one cultural ethos and the other and even though the writer of this was not versed in one, I found my hands come together for each act, even which I ‘may not’ have ‘understood’, equally for the thematic as well as the pure artistry.
Admittedly, and maybe alas, the play could be many things to many people, for while it could leave one with co-mingling strands of, anger, disgust, embarrassment, childlike wonder, guilt, hilarity, or leave one simply entertained, it would be a pity not to see the singular theme running across the seemingly disjointed acts, unrelated languages, and comprehensively diverse cast and characters; that of the universal human condition, ensconced and entrenched in us all, yet reflected only in our perception and judgment of others. If only, I were you.
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