Saturday, February 19, 2011

Blasts from the past!

Three drama-reviews from the (recent) past: "Zen Katha", "R&J", "Evita".

"Zen Katha" by Partap Sharma.
Directed by Lillette Dubey.
mid-2004.
Originally published in the theatre-newsletter "The Script".

The best thing about Partap Sharma’s new play “Zen Katha” is that it is informative. Few people are aware that Zen, the Martial Arts and even Budhhism were exported from India to China by one Bodhidharma, a prince-turned-monk from the Ancient Indian kingdom of Kanchi. This is apparently a matter of more than passing interest to some; and the rest of us would surely raise an eyebrow or two in surprise!
However, the “enlightenment” ends there. What promises to be the chronicle of an intense voyage of self-discovery, becomes instead a dreary docu-drama, wending its desultory way through the annals of history and geography. Mr. Sharma gives little or no insight into the workings of his hero’s mind and heart; little or no inkling of struggle, suffering or sacrifice. One is left with a biography of the most superficial kind; and is appropriately impressed yet completely unmoved. In addition, the second act’s interminable lec-dems of the various disciplines developed by Bodhidharma are made all the more tiresome by an air of self-conscious didacticism.
For all that, Mr. Sharma does have a gift for piquant turns of phrase, tossing-in modern repartee like dashes of Tabasco, enlivening the proceedings.
Lillette Dubey’s production exacerbates all the play’s faults; and adds more than a few of its own. There is hardly any sense of dramatic development, of working towards a climax. The endings of most scenes are flaccid; some of the movement is stagey and artificial; pace and rhythm are severely hampered by awkward, uncalled-for pauses. The overall impression is one of amateurish, under-rehearsed approximation.
Even so, Ms. Dubey does have an eye for detail; a certain sensitivity in the more intimate scenes. These nuggets save the play from total annihilation.
Since the martial arts are one of the major focal-points of the play; and since Sensei Pervez Mistry was in charge of choreographing the (many) fights, one would imagine that these at least would provide some thrills. Alas, not so. All but one (maybe two) of the fight-scenes verge on the ludicrous, the actors moving clumsily and with little sense of actual physical combat, hardly ever conveying the feeling of real and imminent danger.
Almost every actor plays more than one role. While one appreciates the difficulty, one questions the necessity; as it forces actors to caricaturise in an attempt to make each avatar “different” from the others. The results are generally two-dimensional and often irritating.
Denzil Smith lends class to the production, as the hero’s teacher in Act One, speaking and emoting with wonderful clarity and resonance. However, he too caricaturises his next appearance in the second act, playing the Chinese Emperor with an exaggeratedly high voice and high-camp accent.
Rajiv Gopalakrishnan as Bodhidharma tries hard; but simply does not have what it takes, vocally and emotionally, to convey the character’s transition from callow prince to enlightened being. To his credit, he moves well and shows some semblance of transformation; but it seems superficial, not an internal, spiritual growth.
The production’s design is cheap and tacky in the extreme, featuring blown-up photographs of pillars, statues, mountain-scenery and foliage; plus a couple of bright-red columns, surely borrowed from a Chinese restaurant. And Mahesh Tinaikar’s original score sounds like bad Indo-Jazz fusion or Kitaro gone wrong.
Ultimately one is glad the play holds forth at length on its hero’s teachings. They should be heeded. One certainly needs them towards the end of the performance!

"R&J" (Romeo and Juliet) by William Shakespeare.
Directed by Alyque Padamsee.
October 2002.
Originally published in the Sunday Times, Mumbai, 27 October 2002

“Romeo and Juliet” has probably had more modern interpretations than any other of Shakespeare’s plays. This is so, because its story of young love set against the forces of warring clans rings true and is, sadly, timeless. These “star-crossed lovers” have appeared in widely-diverse garbs, locales and time-frames; in versions that jettison the original text to those that preserve (some of) the words but change the milieu.
Alyque Padamsee’s “modern version” is among the latter. Set in India, it substitutes “communities” for clans; and while any outright reference is studiously avoided, the liberal use of teekas and topis offers no prize for guessing. The point of communal disharmony is made richly and repeatedly; the horror of the violence therein, vividly rendered. If the text, under Padamsee’s scalpel, resembles a Reader’s Digest condensation, that is a price purists have become accustomed to paying; more seriously, some of his heavy-handed attempts to evoke sympathy or shock are unintentionally hilarious. Such gaucheness, along with some corner-cutting, is surprising from a director known for his finesse.
A chief offender is Merlin de Souza’s muzak. Though it is very effective in underscoring violence and terror, using tablas and other percussion, its syrupy tunes (including one song with jejune lyrics) make one gag --- especially since these form the continuous background for entire scenes, in the manner of bad TV drama.
Bobby Mukherji’s set is, thankfully, another matter. In pristine white, with diaphanous curtains, it conveys a much-needed peace and neutrality in the play’s troubled waters.
However, it is said one can play Shakespeare against sackcloth, as long as one plays him truly. In this respect, a more contrasting pair of lovers could not be found --- Aditya Hitkari’s pleasing and expressive voice and physical presence are marred by a mannered staginess; Peeya Rai Choudhuri’s Juliet, though not as obviously accomplished as her counterpart, has touching moments of sincerity and truth that more than make up for her occasional awkwardness. The rest of the acting generally varies from the glaringly amateurish to under-developed attempts at characterisation (not helped by costumes that are often garish or bizarre) with many actors vocally ill-focussed or indistinct.
“R & J” ends with a rousing disco number during the curtain calls, setting an apt seal on this production. One leaves the theatre knowing the operation was NOT a success --- however, the patient, thanks to the Bard’s immortal words, still breathes….barely.

"Evita" by Webber/Rice.
Directed by Alyque Padamsee.
circa 1997-2000.
Originally intended for publication on a cultural-events website, which folded. Eventually posted on mouthshut.com

Women in politics --- history has provided many examples proving that the so-called weaker sex is more than a match for its male counterpart, in this arena.
The name of Eva Peron would appear in any list of politically-prominent women, particularly those from the post-War era. Originally a small-town girl, she rose through the night-club circuit and television to marry General Peron, who eventually overcame his rivals and became President of Argentina --- a virtual dictator. Eva, or "Evita", was said to be the power behind the throne, and became a popular cult-figure for the Argentinian masses.
A likely topic for a musical? Perhaps not; but composer Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyricist Tim Rice proved the sceptics wrong when "Evita" became a smash hit on London's West End in 1976. It has proved to be the most enduring of the Webber-Rice collaborations as, twenty-odd years later, it still remains in public consciousness --- most recently, through the medium of cinema.
Its popularity is well deserved. It has all the requisite ingredients --- an engrossing plot, pithy lyrics, memorable melodies and infectious (Latin-American) rhythms. However, this musical attempted something unheard of since the days of Bertolt Brecht --- political comment. Drawing from recent history, the plot has an immediacy; the familiarity of recent headines and how they compare with current affairs.
The title character too is easily identifiable --- the quintessential modern career-woman, with all her ambition and ambivalence. Her story is told through the cynical observations of Che Guevara, a Communist rebel.
"Evita" has had many productions over the years, throughout the world. This is its third staging in Bombay and, like the two before, it has been directed by Alyque Padamsee.
Or rather, "Conceived and Directed by Alyque Padamsee", according to the "Creative Credits" in the programme. The names of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice do not figure anywhere in this publication. One wonders why, especially since copyright demands it.
In the "Director's Note", Padamsee says his production is "an examination of how a myth is manufactured and sold to the public" by the media. Sure, we do occasionally see a person holding a Handycam running around the stage --- we are even afforded a glimpse of what he is "shooting" by way of a clever virtual-video projected onto the cyclorama. Also, at one time, we see a crowd of reporters aimlessly milling around Evita's sick-bed. Such references to the media are few and far between --- if this is a "conception", it is far from immaculate.
The production is actually a pretty straight-forward, typically glitzy presentation with no earth-shattering insights. Though there is no spoken dialogue as such in the musical, Padamsee departs from the norm by introducing commentary, spoken by Che, between the numbers. The purist will find this an intrusion; however the average person's grasping power and attention-span being what they are today, the commentary serves an elucidatory purpose, though some of the asides are insufferably arch.
The director's real achievement lies in his creation of stunning, memorable stage pictures, especially in the big crowd scenes; for example, Evita's funeral at the beginning and end of the play. The production is something of a technical tour de force, as Padamsee makes full- blooded use of all the techno-magic at his disposal. Indeed, one has probably never seen some of the special effects before in this country (though God help the man who is allergic to the foul-smelling smoke emitted from the fog-machine, which is used often and with gusto).
Another worthy feature of the production is Terrence Lewis' vibrant choreography. Dancing, in the musical theatre, must be a part of the action, the dancers becoming actors. It is to Lewis' credit that he follows this principle at least some of the time --- to such great effect that one wishes he never varied from it by opting (as he often does) for the merely decorative. In any case, his dancers have athleticism, precision and pizzazz.
But what of Evita herself? This musical stands or falls on the strengths of its star; and Sharon Prabhakar Padamsee, on the whole, does not disappoint.
The voice has retained its freshness and now has an added bloom of maturity that makes it sweeter, less strident than before --- she sings her opening number like an angel. One is less happy with her vocal mannerisms, nor can she vocally convey Evita's "steel" in later scenes. And, though the idea of interpolating "Memory" from "Cats" (with different lyrics) makes the character too cloying, who can comp1ain when it is so beautifully sung, the final note held for ages, in full voice, with near-complete security?
Yet, one musn't forget that acting is part of the deal; and here Ms Padamsee strikes too many poses and is too superficially driven, to make her portrayal of this multi-faceted woman truly come to life.
Similarly, the young Chaitanya Bhonsle does more or less what one expects as Che Guevara, though one misses a sense of inner fire. He moves well but his diction is sometimes unintelligible. It is a strange voice, hard-toned at times; and taking a while to warm-up (the opening "Oh what a circus" was a disaster) but with free, ringing top notes.
Farid Currim lacks the right physicality and vocal quality for General Peron, coming across somewhat weak, when self-assurance, underscored with menace, and a darker tone are called for.
In sum, this production remains very much a vehicle for its director and star. While one admires all the expertise that has gone into it, one can't help feeling that the musical's essence is lost somewhere, in all the exorbitance.
Ultimately, this "Evita" may excite the senses; but rarely touches the heart.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Relentless jamboree

Review of
“The Sound of Music”
Tata Theatre, NCPA, Mumbai
26 January 2011.
(An edited version of this review was originally published in the Times of India, Mumbai, on 29 Jan 2011.)

Rodgers and Hammerstein’s final collaboration “The Sound of Music” is one of the world’s best-loved musicals, thanks mainly to the iconic film which made it immortal.

It tells the true story of Baroness Maria Augusta von Trapp, who left the confines of a convent to serve as governess to the seven children of a widowed, autocratic Naval commander whom she ultimately married, bringing back music and joy into the life of this dysfunctional family. After the Nazi annexation of Austria, they escaped to Switzerland, embarking on a concert-career as The Trapp Family Singers.

The play’s heartwarming tale of courage, faith and the healing powers of music and love; and the lilting songs which have become “standards”, are the bedrock of this musical. When presented simply and directly, it can be an extraordinarily moving experience. This production by Raell Padamsee, directed by Advait Hazarat, is not.

The reason is, in a word, excess, overwhelming any real meaning or emotion in a relentless, fatiguing jamboree. It begins in the foyer, where one is greeted by children singing songs from the musical, and continues onstage with a pair who become our “hosts”, introducing the show and its participants; and return at the beginning of Act 2 to give-out prizes from a lucky draw.

We are told, repeatedly, of the many child-welfare organisations whose children have been given this wonderful opportunity to present their talents in a professional production. And indeed they do, appearing in hordes without explanation or dramatic plausibility (the exception being the choir from the Happy Home School for the Blind) in an attempt to augment some of the musical numbers; thereby taking-away focus from the seven Von Trapp children who are actual characters in the play. By contrast, My Favourite Things, choreographed by Karla Singh and featuring just Maria and the seven kids, is truly charming.

In Mr. Hazarat’s staging, characterisations are generally two-dimensional; either hammy or underdone, with actors talking “at” each other and some of their movement seeming aimless or contrived. However, Delna Mody’s Maria is a sincere creation, with a voice that is both strong and sweet; though her phrasing could be more musical. Dalip Tahil’s beautiful singing-voice has aged gracefully; but his Captain von Trapp is perhaps a shade too poker-faced to make the transformation entirely convincing. Among the children, Simran Jehani’s Liesl stands out for sheer confidence and ease; but the boys look too young.

Marianne D’Cruz Aiman is also too young and light-toned for the Mother Abbess, more lyric soprano than Earth-Mother contralto. Even so, her rendition of Climb Ev’ry Mountain is a show-stopper, thanks to prodigious breath-control and secure high notes. She is Vocal Director of the production; and her chorus of nuns make heavenly sounds.

Fali Unwalla’s sets are gorgeous but hampered by the limitations of the Tata Theatre’s stage, which is also a stumbling block for director Hazarat, though he makes imaginative use of the entire auditorium. However, one’s suspension of disbelief is tested to the utmost by some of the ludicrous choices made; not helped by Technical Director Alyque Padamsee’s lurid, multi-coloured lighting and over-use of the fog machine. To say nothing of the bombastic “background music” culled from diverse sources (including Carmina Burana) and used to create tension and terror when called-for, a la Bollywood.

No expense has been spared to “impress” and this makes one wonder what priority drives a production such as this. Is it to present a timeless classic in as extravagant a manner as possible; or engender a feel-good atmosphere at any cost; or, simply, to do charity? But, in the final analysis, it hardly matters because no amount of exorbitance or exuberance can compensate for inability to move an audience with dramatic truth. In this respect, this production of “The Sound of Music” with all its good intentions (and astronomical ticket-prices!) leaves a lot to be desired.