Virgo Intacta- the dark side explored

Wow!

Now this is much more like the sort of theatre Sri Lankan audiences should be getting. Compared with Black Comedy a fortnight ago, Seneka Abhayratne's Virgo Intacta was a refreshing breath of fresh air - which is possibly somewhat back to front given the heavy subject matter of the latter in comparison to the lightweight content of the former.

What sets this play apart from the usual fare is the fact that director Tracy Holsinger is willing to experiment and take a risk. For one thing, the setting. A whole new dimension was added by staging Virgo Intacta in the garden of Barefoot Gallery 706; the stage, as it were, ringed with boughy trees, a cool evening breeze and a languorous twilight adding a subtle dreamy feel to add to the ambience already created by well chosen lighting and music. The music included - to The Vulture's delight - the ghostly sounds of a didgeridoo while the lighting went through a repertoire of hues from greens and reds to psychedelic disco splotches and a single lonely spotlight.

The plot is not unduly complicated but that is because it doesn't deal so much in fantasy but in the mundane realities of life, albeit the less explored side of human behaviour. Kamal is a young husband who worships his wife as being some form of ethereal creature, beyond the corporeal physiologies of ordinary humans. His wife, Madhu is a vital woman, yearning to break free from the shackles of everyday living and experience life. Prins is a thoughtful, meditative artist dying of cancer who befriends first Kamal and then Madhu.

Most of the story is set in a park outside Kamal and Madhu's home. Kamal is becoming increasingly neurotic and tends to spend most of his time in the park, talking to Prins. Prins is Kamal's sage, his shaman who lends shape to the swirling thoughts filling his head. As the story unfolds, Kamal becomes more and more unstable, starting a normal conversation with Prins, progressing to a paranoid state in which he thinks the insect that Prins is sketching is a representation of Kamal and working himself up into enough of a frenzy to pick up a rock and stand on the verge of stoning Prins' head in. As Kamal descends further into his own mind, Madhu and Prins' friendship moves inexorably closer to the core, Prins' passion fanning the embers of Madhu's soul, bringing out the vitality and lust for life in her. This is no fairy tale though, in which Madhu and Prins fall in love and Kamal finds peace within himself. On the contrary, Prins dies, the marriage crumbles, Kamal's already fragile mind surrenders itself to the shady bliss of madness and Madhu is left with neither he nor Prins.

The point that Seneka Abhayratne is making here though, is that it is alright for these things to happen because bad things do happen in real life.

In fact, one can't help the nagging feeling that the underlying message of the play is a celebration of death. Now before the Christian Right goes on a metal music burning spree, let me clarify what I mean: much of the play lends itself to the view that dying is not such a bad thing and furthermore, it is not a grand gesture by some supreme force: it is simply a natural thing; something that should be neither feared nor revered because it is the most inevitable aspect of being alive. Prins, for one, is not averse to dying because for him it would be the ultimate liberty: freedom from the pain of his cancer-ridden existence. Kamal was actually looking forward to death (or at least until he meets the goddess of the living dead - more of that later) because it would free him from facing up to the clamouring, questioning voices in his own head and also because he is quite sure that he will go to heaven which he is sure is a nice leafy park, not unlike the one outside his house. Madhu doesn't particularly want to die but that is because she wants to get on with life, not because death holds some great terror for her.

More credit to the director in this regard for picking up on this fact and rendering absolutely hilarious two scenes that may otherwise have been a dreary re-enactment of an old Ingmar Bergman movie - all shades of grey and Death staring moodily out at an equally cross ocean. Instead Holsinger lays on the psychedelic lighting, an effects soundtrack out of the Cartoon Network, burlesque bump-and-grind cabaret music and Michelle Perera vamping it up in a delicious cameo as Yama, Queen of the Living Dead and a cross between RuPaul and Morticia Adams, waist length wig and all. Yama visits Kamal - by now several Hazelnut Whirls short of a box of chocolates - and offers him the choice of dying and taking a chance on heaven and hell or not dying and becoming one of her subjects. Kamal is tormented even more than usual, poor chap, but opts to take his chances with death, earning himself a ringing slap from Yama's servant Dechen Dolkar and the eternal displeasure of Yama. The Vulture felt that the second scene veered a bit too much towards the "Black Comedy" school of theatricals in its slapstick ending, but one is more than able to forgive, in the light of the superlative performances throughout.

The acting was, indeed, very very good. Dylan Perera had the difficult task of playing a supporting role that is very much the hinge of the play and he managed this with aplomb, capturing the bitterweetness of a man filled with passion yet trapped in a decaying body. There was no eyeball straining mugging in his expressions and there was no dramatic grandeur in his voice: his posture, the control in his speech, conveyed the artiste's delight in the minute wonders of the world around him and the cynicism of a man knowing he is about to die. I found myself wondering throughout Prins' interaction with Madhu if the touches and the words of wisdom were entirely born of honest intention or if in a subconscious way, Prins was trying to bring Madhu and Kamal apart so that Madhu would end up in his bed.

Shanaka Amarasinghe as Kamal is a testament to the wealth of acting talent that seems to be nurtured at S.Thomas' College. Barely out of school, this young man played the neurotic, obsessed, delusional Kamal as if he had spent all of his life in the shoes of the character, nervous twitches and tremulous voice down pat. The physical interplay between Kamal and Madhu were far subtler than the obvious touchy-feeliness between Madhu and Prins and the body language of the two was excellent. Kamal physically shies away from Madhu when she brings up serious issues in their marriage; Kamal's cerebral reluctance to face up to anything real translates itself into him literally running away from her every time she tries to speak to him or touch him. Kamal is like a child, retreating into a fantasy world rather than dealing with maturity.

The truly outstanding performance, though, came from Karen Balthazar playing Madhu, a woman still a virgin after two years of marriage because of her husband's refusal to see her as less than anything but a divine creature who should not be defiled by sexual intercourse. Madhu's character develops perceptively during the course of the play from being accepting of the shortcomings in her life to wanting to step out and grab life in both hands. Madhu tries at first to be understanding of Kamal, becoming more and more forthright in addressing the problems until her growth culminates in her wrestling Kamal to the ground and forcing him to make love to her. It doesn't work, of course, and Kamal scuttles off like a frightened infant. The point is that Madhu is no longer subservient; she has become an independent woman who has come to realise that she must stride towards what she wants, be it purpose in life or just the consummation of her marriage: perhaps another unspoken message from Seneka Abhayratne. Karen Balthazar played the role almost perfectly, her demeanour altering from small to a significant presence radiating confidence and strength in the end.

The play ends with Kamal in a mental institution, resting in the garden of Eden in the sanctuary of his own head. A clever ending to a thought-provoking play. Thought provoking, not only in its subject matter but in the fact that serious drama can put bums on seats in Colombo. As Tracy Holsinger said "it was beyond my wildest expectations" and one can only hope that other directors want to feel that way too.

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