MUWCI TIMES PRESENTS
THEATRE SEASON
REVIEWS // POETRY // ANALYSIS // DIRECTORS // PRODUCERS WORDS BY JEPPE UGELVIG // BEN CLARK // TANUSHREE BAIJAL// JULIET HOORNAERT // JIYA PANDYA // BRENDA WACUKA // SHARO COSTA // KEVIN HOLICKA // MARIA VICTORIA MORENO PHOTOGRAPHY BY SHYAMLI BADGAIYAN // KARANJIT SINGH EDITED AND PUBLISHED BY JEPPE UGELVIG
EDITOR’S NOTE The initial steps to this year’s Theatre Season began already in September 2011, as both students, faculty and the TCG began the difficult task of writing and subsequently choosing the plays of the season. The strict selection resulted in much excitement as well as disappointment. This is only natural, as Theatre Season is a golden opportunity to invent, explore and showcase creativity, emotion, storytelling and drama on a level so intimate that it can never be replicated in the “real” world. For me, Theatre Season is a proof of this community’s immense enthusiasm and will-power, evidence that the frequently discussed “MUWCI Spirit” still lives and breathes. 5 months and a very dramatic revolution of the Season’s structure and organization later, an incredible amount of 14 plays stood (more or less) ready to perform for a now very excited community. I am not to discuss, and neither to decide, whether the infrastructural changes were a necessary change of format or a political coup d’état, all I know is that they resulted in a Theatre Season bigger than ever. This MUWCI Times Theatre Season Special Edition reflects the diversity of performances that were found throughout the month of February, from experimental one-man shows to student adaptations of professional play. All performances were surprisingly mature, which is why they deserve a mature treatment. I am proud to present you this special edition of MUWCI Times and wish you happy reading!
AMATEUR DRAMATICS The greenish-blue light pierces their bodies As the actors move In synchronized harmony. Time dictates their movements, Frenzied actions, yet elegantly controlled. Then, She steps out of the shadows, She steps out to play her part .
The audience looks on Judging, Non-judgementally. The actress throws her body forward Her hands grip the air A defiant nose; a rebellious mouth jut out at the waiting crowd And so, She feigns her role. Curtains rustle Children shift their position ever so slightly
Her story told, She steps back Soaking in the rapturous applause. Another actor takes her place. Stepping out of the shadows.
The audience looks on, expectantly All, hypnotized spectators to the tragic comedy of Life...
By Sharo Costa
FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH … I’m not a theatre critic,
A CRITIQUE OF THE OFFERINGS IN THIS YEAR’S THEATRE SEASON BY BEN CLARK (HEAD OF AESTHETICS) and not much given to reading critics
either. However, it seems only fair, after so much work and dedication by so many, that some written feedback should be forthcoming, hence these appreciative reviews. There is criticism here too, though, because one important feature of the theatre season is its potential as a learning ground: an active forum of questioning, skill development and creative experiment. Theatre Season this year was better than it’s ever been. Fifteen productions took place over the course of a packed month of plays and the variety of offerings took in everything from psychodrama to community theatre, from the experiential to the experimental and from classic high drama to improvisation competitions. Especially impressive this year was the amount of plays written by students themselves and the smooth interaction of this huge event with the ongoing academic life of the college – completion of TOK, EE and World Lit all due at around the same time. This bears witness to the dedication of students and the appreciation by faculty of the value of this tradition at MUWCI. Long may it continue to be the unique and powerfully enriching festival of creativity, humour, challenge and vision that it has become.
9 PARTS OF DESIRE Without much sense of irony, “9 Parts of Desire” focuses on the lives of some women caught in Iraq at the time of Sadam Hussain’s fall. It aims, apparently, to give the audience a sense of the brutalization of individual lives in the tumult of a confused war. However, written by an American Iraqi, it was difficult for this viewer not to conclude in places that the piece was, essentially, veiled propaganda. The actors had clearly given a lot of work and commitment to the exploration of their roles. Mati finding an endearing humour, Toni an unnerving intensity, Katalin controlling a sharp contrast and then Brenda triumphing with a sparkling and passionate portrayal. Corne gave a ‘feeling’ rendition in his unlikely role as an Iraqi/American college student, and Meret was extremely committed in the twitching bitterness of her alcoholic old woman. These performances were without context though, and it was hard to realize any substantial connection between the characters with their monologues, not least because this play was originally conceived as a one-woman show. It was also impossible to tell whether we were in ‘91, 9/11, 2001 or 2003. And though ‘9 Parts’ aspires to reach a climax with the bombing of the artist, there is insufficient sense of inherent destiny (dramatic logic) to this progression and the play fails as such. The two-dimensionality of the script was matched by a rather flat staging, although presenting an interesting alternative of looking at the play through the mirror along one wall. And the lighting, though constantly in flux, was not used to add much to the emotion or import of the piece. Here and there, a strain of background music sought to settle the mood, with mixed results. This was a worked production, even if perhaps more work was expended on it than the play itself merited. Well done, at last, to the directors, young cast and crew.
12 ANGRY MEN Despite threatening to be renamed ‘11 awkward men’, this production had a confident sense of where it was going from the start. Combining inventive staging and sensitive direction, it was a very convincing piece of work, and a tribute to a good-natured teamwork rare in this age group. Deftly placing the jury in amongst the audience, restricting numbers and covering the walls behind us with newspaper pages to increase a sense of bureaucratic claustrophobia – the directors had clearly considered their ideas well to conceive of this staging. The unusual addition of a dress code for the audience brought people further into the drama. A real high point, however, was the unexpected, illuminated tableau sequence, which gave a movie montage effect through the doors of the MPH where we saw the jurors jostling together: a change of perspective, which was very original, imaginative and pleasing. The performances were sincere and, in cases, quite forceful; Tudor, especially, realising the subtlety of his role. On the whole, the cast was well balanced and we enjoyed Mette’s arrogant youthfulness, Leo’s aggressive dominance, Eric’s quizzical alien. Parikshit managed a light touch with his thoughtful, braces and jeans, number 6. Paresh, several decibels louder than everyone else, was well cast as the impatient socialite, and there were confidently assured performances from Mark, Kiren and Rebecca as well. The directors are to be commended for helping all the actors to put themselves into it with feeling and force. However, especially those who adapted the script are to be congratulated, because what emerged was a tightly written, cut and performed, engaging drama, which held us all in the witness box from start to finish. Well done!
TRIAL OF MY MIND A late entrant into the Theatre Season this year, Trial of My Mind certainly proved its worth. And this was interesting timing too, because with TOK presentations and essays looming, this play attacked the question of a case of ‘inaccurate memory’. It revolved around Huntington’s dilemma (the defending lawyer, played by Pulkit) – could he in all honesty argue the innocence of his client and from where would he draw his justification? And did he have a ‘feeling’ about it? The lights warmed, downstage, on two hanging tryptichs of mirrors suspended in front of two characters - black and white - representing a ruthless rationalist perspective on one hand (the economist) and a cynically relativist position on the other (the psychologist). This was an extaordinarily inventive staging idea as well as being a rather beautiful device in itself. Should we believe the strange triple image of the psychologist (Swati), or the three faces of the economist (Katalin)? A fuller characterization might have emerged had the slight differences in their tone and language been more pointed. Nevertheless, these were committed and engaging performances. Interspersed with their ongoing and almost comically repetitive battle, there were affecting scenes between the driven-to-drink defendant (Anwita herself) and her longsuffering mother (Tanushree) and, behind them, up a level, Huntington in the witness stand, giving the testimony of his defense to a skeptical judge in the form of Mugdha. Finally, centre stage, two dancers in black worked with smooth and confident grace to outline a choreography of the conflict between intellectual positions. Theirs was a metaphorical world in which they were last seen tying the hapless lawyer up in strings of confusion. Bridging these planes the confident use of music to highlight emotions was welcome and well handled by Sreedevi in dual roles as pianist and sound designer/technician. There may be faults with the script. I wasn’t sure about the rather garbled allusions to Adam Smith and Sigmund Freud, for instance, and in places, surely it was a little overcomplex. However, this little play has a shape and a whole array of wonderful ideas going on in it - visually especially. And the students who took part really gave their all to make Anwita’s vision a reality, including new recruit Gaurav on the lights. The event showcased real talent and determination. Superb!
DOGTOOTH The directors of ‘Dogtooth’ transferred a film onto the stage, which is an awkward move and a difficult challenge. The camera has a different intensity, intimacy and a different sense of time. There were, then, a series of blackouts between sometimes very short sequences, breaking the flow for the audience. A feature of the film somewhat lost in translation, however, was a lightness of touch and a sense of humour. These are precisely the aspects least amenable to a teenage treatment, and so this version lacked a certain subtlety. The pretext is an absurdist metaphor, although the cast brought out the feature that it is also chillingly believable. Melisa was particularly convincing in the complexity of her conflicted mother figure. And the directors had taken care with her to pace moments of panic when a child asks the wrong question! As the three siblings, Sanni, Juliet and Paul were unnervingly secure in their confusions and their masochistic and sexually manipulative relations graphically depicted. The play really revolves around the distortion of their innocence under the pressure of an authoritarian nightmare of a father-figure. Modeled, perhaps, on a middleAmerican fundamentalist Christian father, this disturbing character is attempting to fulfill every bourgeois aspiration by conniving with his weak wife to brainwash their children and restrain them within the four walls of their suburban bubble. To this end, having Yaniv sitting, expressionless in the car outside the venue as the audience entered was a master stroke of weirdery and added menace to his subsequent entrance with the unhappy prostitute (Cecilia) who would ‘service’ his remorseless son (Paul). The choice of venue meant that audience seats were limited and at a premium, which is no bad thing (although tough for those who missed it), and it was interesting to have the audience cast as a massed fly-on-the-wall in a family living room, with kitchen and bedroom adjoining. The cramped setting worked very well to heighten the desperate sense of incarceration and the sensitive scene dressing emphasized this cage’s relentless, sanitized mediocrity. The actors unflinchingly entered this world without deviation, which was impressive and left the audience uncomfortable at being invited into their bizarre confidences. Sanni who, as the daughter, is sacrificed in sexual slavery to her brother, who finally revolts and, tearing out her canine, escapes, had the task of summing up the disturbing kaleidoscope of their confusions in a pathetic, desperate dance of futile abandon – the climax of the piece. She had clearly done some hard work to achieve this characterization. While the tension lasted, Dogtooth was a convincing stab at an ambitious task, then the family recoiled…a chorus of snarling, snapping, howling… literally, barking!
LETTRES D’AMOUR To the repeated strains of “La Vie En
Rose”, Margot’s edited and adapted romantic comedy had us seated for half an hour in something of a boutique theatre, MUWCI style. The director had taken care to provide carpeted seating areas and a cinema layout. Blackout. Lights up… Two women are seated downstage each in their own pool of light, one (Alix) writing poisonous letters to the other, the stories in which are revealed upstage. Behind and between the two correspondents appeared Constanine, in a series of liaisons with young women, the lovers’ costumes black and white setting them in a world apart, a silent movie world, created by the fretful imagination of the reader (Clara). For all the dialogues (or rather reportage) are entirely in French, it was not difficult to catch the drift of the romantic triangle presented, and the whole atmosphere of the piece spoke volumes about the content. Especially enchanting was the 1930s silent movie, screened as part of the piece, which had been very imaginatively, and intelligently, shot by Sanni. This was divertissement, entertainment and unashamedly so, with Margot and Jeppe shown as bright young things dallying with each other through the palm colonnades of Wada three. Mais c’est tellement Margot! Alongside this, though, one has to credit the maturity and sense of theatre with which Margot wrote, directed, staged and performed this intimate bagatelle. A clear concept, a simple yet thorough working out and a telling humour marked this piece out as exceptional. There was also a sensitive use of the potentials of the theatre space through this play, and of the possibilities of story-telling through other media than words: mime, suggestion and movement. The final scene showed Margot (girl number four) in a spectacular and leggy tango display – the climax to the sad Clara’s fretful imaginings. And at the end of the play, Constanine (guilty or innocent, we don’t know) arrives to find an empty apartment. She’s left. And left him. The audience was invited to open the little envelopes we’d received as we entered the theatre for this matinee performance. Each audience member broke open the pink heart seal on his/her envelope to reveal a goodbye message inside, and the wounded, parting note ended: “Happy Valentine’s Day”. Which, in fact, it was, as we emerged into the bright sunlight outside.
SHADOW LIBERATION Thanks to Evan Hastings and the students of Shrishti College Bangalore for stopping off on their tour to Pune to spend an evening with us. Arriving at 5.00 in the evening, the team of twenty worked like ants to transform the MPH into a theatre with a shadow screen deftly strung between pillars and wings hastily erected either side. A simple but effective lighting design, constant interjections of recorded music, and a few delightful shadow-play story telling techniques brought their theatre to life – a theatre that was more about interaction than acting, and also about a confessional process that had already happened before the event. For several months the actors had prepared this presentation by sharing stories and reflections about Indian women in oppressive or abusive relationships of one kind or another. Parental attitudes, stereotypes, domestic violence and ‘eve teasing’ were acted out as a series of brief scenarios into which the audience was invited to interject in a Boal inspired Forum Theatre consideration of the dynamics of very common tensions: “You’re not going out tonight, even if your brother is”, “Why did he hit me?”, “Mum, I’m a lesbian” … The overall good humour and friendliness of the group was engaging and brought out some empassioned interjections from the spectactors - in particular, our decidedly feminist theatre students! Whether or not these rather Western suggestions were in any way revealing or helpful given the specifically Indian context was debatable (perhaps Howard’s introduction of a guiding friend on the male side was more urgently/realistically to the point?), yet there certainly was the kind of interaction that makes this type of theatre genuinely thought-provoking and, potentially, genuinely world-changing. It only just finished by check-in, by which time all who were there had been thoroughly entertained and felt genuinely involved in some way. Shadow Liberation is traveling about India making a difference with enormous commitment and energy.
FIGHT OR FLIGHT The proof of this will be in the feedback that comes from the participants, because this was not theatre for an audience, but an interactive role-play exercise attempting to force a new immediacy of experience in relation to the issue of dispossession and refugees. Very thoroughly organized and planned by Mark and Emilie, the participants were led on an all night series of separations, shocks, absurd boredoms and confused humiliations before they could arrive at the purple star camp (a place of relative comfort and peace – at least a tent and a bonfire). Arvin, Quentin and Nandita deserve special mention as the nasty guards and assailants, whose job was, in many ways, the hardest. And Olga and Joanna, who worked through he night as officials. There was a large team of volunteers, though, playing the parts of the oppressors in one way or another, and they all contributed. So did the two groups of participants who were subjected to a night of refugee or sub-refugee status. While no one got hurt and there was no psychological trauma involved, everyone involved was forced to confront something about themselves or about the central question. Looking at their tired faces in the morning, there was a slightly emotional, strung-out feeling about everyone, a sense that everyone had been pushed to experience something they weren’t expecting to. It is difficult to imagine that this night will not have impacted significantly on their lives. And when we think about refugees, we will remember this night and remember the efforts of Mark and Emilie to bring it to life. All will remember the thrill and the chill of a night in the open, vulnerable and lost, and consider the helplessness of the dispossessed. Perhaps it will continue to make people think for years to come, and if so, this piece of theatre has achieved what it intended to and something very special happened.
ANTIGONE What a wonderful play – a tragedy, a critique of tragedy and a comedy all in one. I didn’t know it in advance, and so was startled by the effectiveness of its murder mystery aspect - something this production emphasised by its setting and style. Touching, and even, for some, deeply moving, this script gave the cast a wonderful array of theatrical modes and devices on which to draw in their realization. And they exploited these opportunities to good effect. For instance, at certain points, the guards played cards with the audience, and the nurse went begging from audience members for supplies for the refugee camp at which the disgraced family of Oedipus find themselves. Then there were the film-like opening and closing sequences, set to music – Antigone hurriedly throwing earth on the corpse of her brother, Antigone taken for execution. And there was also the narrator, Tanushree, from whom I received many a disapproving stare, constantly informing and yet always insecure about the response of the audience. Comic relief, in the form of the guards and the nurse, makes the tale more poignant, as did the triumphantly joyful scene between Antigone and Hayman (Eeshta with Katalin), her devoted, confused lover, even as Antigone is denying their chance of love, forever. The choice of the tree house behind Wada 3 as a venue was hard won and nonetheless inspired. The audience spied on the drama through the branches of trees now dry and cracking, and the dusty grove offered enough space for the guards to run about the area, giving the impression of great distances and very much in keeping with the epic scope. Lujza and Joanna were fun as the slovenly guard and chief guard respectively. Perhaps the play’s final affirmation is of tragedy as a way to arrive at your self, and maybe this will stay with us longest in
LETTERS FROM ‘91 Another self-penned student play this theatre season was set in a beautifully created little theatre space at the lawn outside the conference room. Four levels of seating rose sharply from a small stage thrusting out of a makeshift proscenium between two ornamental palm trees. The night sky above and the warm glow of theatre lights below, the audience felt intimately held. Letters from 91 was a brave and noble attempt to create a drama, which might show and tell something about the Kashmir issue in a way that could speak to people during Theatre Season here. It achieved this objective to some extent, and there is likely to be more interest and awareness now about this tense problem in the North. The play is a neatly constructed piece, however it could have been edited and expanded to flesh out some of the issues with more subtlety and with some more nuanced characterization, and the writers showed their inexperience with the medium in this respect. William performed well as the ill-fated Irfan whom we follow into a prison in Delhi and away to meet his end after torture in Kashmir. Roshni’s truculent younger Irfan was an engaging character, and Avaneesh as the uncle was very true to type with his fixed smile in his first scene turning to a shocked grimace in his last. Constantine and Prioty managed bit parts well, although the crowd laughed to see them in their roles as shop owner and soldier, and even more, when they played a pair of children from the village; while Matthew delivered a most unsuspected performance as a cruel and Americanised head of Delhi police, not afraid to use torture. Congratulations especially to William, whose central performance kept intact an emotional integrity which was all too often on the verge of getting lost altogether. The explosion at the end, though, was so loud and convincing that I was afraid the lighting dimmer pack had finally blown up! My fears were quickly allayed as Mugdha, as a news reporter, appeared speaking into a microphone, pursued by Pulkit with video camera. Her report ended with a credit to herself and the cameraman, which elicited more laughter, but the sad side to all this was that she was reporting a suicide blast, this time by Irfan’s son. Three generations and the same sad, confused pattern of violence playing itself out with deadly repetitiveness. Congratulations again to the creators of it, for their goodwill, their hard work and sincerity: surely this effort and this experience will pay dividends in the future.
AMAN Aman’s show fell into three distinct parts. The first of these was delivered by a rather stiff character, wearing evening dress and a mask. He appeared to be addressing the members of a bar coterie and it quickly became apparent that this was a pretext for various comments on the community here: “ I like the people here, because they are both here and somewhere else”. The text was littered with interesting images and a humorous touch while being a bizarrely meandering piece, almost unsettling, especially in combination with the mask. In time, this figure arrived, he declared, at “the heart of the matter”, at which point his soliloquy turned into gibberish on the theme of The Jabberwocky, as he removed his clothing down to a small, white dhoti-like cloth. This sequence left the audience bemused, smiling or, in some cases, disturbed. And the ensuing sequence in which the, now nearly naked, figure drew people into the swirl of his jabbering, playing with their earlobes, dressing them in his clothes, dragging them to centre stage, was suffused with unpredicatability. Getting beyond the “gold and smoke” of the social scene meant, for this character, a laying bare, and surely Aman’s one man show must have laid him bare in more senses than one. However, the expressive potential of expressionism is always in question as well, and by the end, this reviewer felt that the requisite focus had not been met and the structure was unsatisfactory as a theatrical form. The philosophy of this type of performance relates to Butoh, to Grotowski, to the ideal of ‘play’ as of transcendent potential, and this ideal could have been more thoroughly applied in practice, undergirding the performance with stronger principles. However, it takes some courage and determination to put on a show of this kind and physical discipline too. Aman’s achievement was recognized by his peers and the good nature of his effort was enjoyed by the whole audience.
THE GENERAL What a tour de force! Announced by Gerhard as probably, in his opinion, the best film ever, The General is a classic comedy, with the stone-faced Buster Keaton starring in a fanciful romance set during the American civil war. The main feature of this film is a ‘car-chase’ between two steam trains, involving audacious and hilarious stunts and improbable scenarios. These were accompanied by a continuous and relentless energetic flurry of percussive passages, sentimental incidents, patriotic blasts at the piano. Sometimes we had even lightning and thunder effects and, most entertaining of all, the ironic twists of pace and mood that perfectly matched the film’s comic language. Brilliant! The SPACE was transformed into an old-style picture house, with the curtains parted to reveal the projection in crackling black and white, the pianist in front, and to stage right, with a lamp on his piano the only light in the room. Guillaume was the projectionist for this and did a careful and tidy job of house lighting and stop-starting (easier said than done!). Gerhard Gruber, internationally renown silent movie pianist, played for a full 76 minutes emerging at the other end sweating, shaking and having enjoyed the movie again, wholeheartedly. Thanks to The Austrian Cultural Society and the Pune Music Society for accepting our invitation on behalf of the artist. It was unforgettable.
IMPRO LUCHAS
BRICKS
Just in case Theatre Season should pass by untouched by the world of glamorous hype and celebrity culture, Impro Luchas was here to make up for it.
Fernanda has cleverly constructed a dark ‘murder mystery’ psychodrama about a suicide, which is entirely suffused with guilt and regret, as, character by character, the truth is revealed to us in a series of family confessions. It is perhaps a particularly Mexican catholic tale, though guilt and recrimination do often lower about suicide whatever the context. It was an ambitious topic for a young writer. Fernanda and Katrine, with some sense of theatrical presence, managed to stage it eliciting a degree of commitment from their cast and team.
The quality was necessarily mixed, however the teams that emerged victorious towards the final stages raised the standard of improvisation on campus to new heights. In particular William, Katrine and Caner warmed to their task with obvious relish and creative flare, reducing the audience to paroxysms of laughter. And Rolando, Michael and Connor were also very good at saying ‘Yes’! With Guillaume and Brenda adding laughs and tumult. It was brilliant fun and a great bout of ribaldry for the season as a whole. Thanks are due to Il Kapitano and his crew for the four-week string of events.
Some guidance and editing would have been helpful, however, because the play resorts to sequential monologues over revealing dialogue, and discursive passages rather than character development. Another slight problem was pace. Long scene changes and a drooping rhythm could easily have been avoided with careful planning and informed rehearsal. These are the flaws of inexperience. Despite the careful construction of wings and the copious amount of scenery, the use of theatre as theatre, the exploration of a live medium for its own sake, was lacking. Anyhow, the filmic sense of realism gave the scenes a rich and colourful feel. Joanna was a very engaging guide as the multi-person narrator (a wonderful story-telling idea) - a deadpan delivery contrasting with her frequent and even elaborate costume changes. The story of a family piecing together a story in the wreckage of their lives after their father’s suicide, ‘Bricks’ turns out at last to be a conceit – the scattered pieces of a broken communication which take even a death to bring together into one picture. Even then, the picture is unresolved, however. The appearance of Ricardo as a coma victim waking up after ten years was particularly tangential and difficult to convince people of – there were eruptions of ‘inappropriate laughter’ in his scene and also in the Amit’s scene – the two actors whose characters’ complexity clearly greatly outdid their powers of portrayal. There was a moment or two of real humour, and one, in particular, showed Katrine’s confidence and subtlety as an actress alongside Raunak in the cookie scene, which was delightful. There was also quite a strong performance from Mahima, which, like much else about this production showed real potential. The lighting was carefully choreographed and executed and added much to the shifts of focus and intensity involved in the play as a whole. And congratulations to the writer, directors and cast and crew for the sheer achievement of this all-student production!
LA CASA DI BERNARDA ALBA Arriving at La Casa the audience is confronted by a wake outside the door of Wada 1 House 3. This was surprisingly affecting. We were ushered past the mourning relatives and the well-dressed corpse into the house and then out to the back courtyard, from which vantage point we could watch the subsequent action through the windows, which make up one entire wall. Here, we were served water by hooded servants dressed, like the bereaved relatives, entirely in black (Rolando and Avaneesh). This staging idea couldn’t have been more appropriate; heightening as it did, the steamy confinement of the women of the house and of their disproportionate passions. One almost felt like a voyeur, so intimate was the relation to the drawing room scene. At the opening, there was a particularly tender dynamic between Maria and Ainhoa setting a homely mood, an incongruous ground to the frenzied relationships later revealed. As feelings warmed so did the actors’ performances - well done to Clara, in this repect, (who was acting in her third play in as many languages!), Sara surprised us with her emphatic portrayal of Bernarda, and Vanessa impressively passionate as the young girl whose final suicide brought us all full circle - to the death slab outside the door, on our way out. This circularity pressed home the sense of inevitability and futility that haunt the drama and really left a sadness with the audience for these women, so tragically oppressed by a world entirely defined in relation to the overbearing significance of men in their lives (first the dead patriarch and then the shared idol - Pepe), a significance so total that we don’t even need to meet those men to feel oppressed by it ourselves. A judicious sprinkle of English lines helped to point the non-Spanish-speaking audience through the rapid dialogue, and I thought this had been very carefully and tastefully achieved to allow for an uninterrupted flow in the text while letting the outsider in to the story. It also allowed me to share some of the key moments of comic irony too. And the night we went, the melodrama of shared desires (especially exaggerated in the case of the grandmother played by Oscar!) lent a farcical dimension to the play’s sudden denouement. It was of course a very cut-down version of the Lorca play, lasting only half an hour, and in this it only marginally fell short of the average length of plays in Theatre Season 2012. In this case, as in general, it proved a winning formula – short, swift and to the point, full of lively and feeling performance, this was an unforgettable little production.
VANITY FAIR PHOTOGRAPHY/KARANJIT SINGH EDITORIAL & INTERVIEW/KEVIN HOLICKA
MARGOT Lettres d’ Amour THERE’S THIS OLD ROM ANTIC AND PARISIAN FEELING GOING ON! I put everything that I like in ‘Lettres d’ amour’. I wrote it, I directed it and I just wanted to explore everything with my own touch where my romantic side came out. It wasn’t that easy to do everything alone, but I set everything in my mind already. Why I decided to have it in French is because it is a poetic language. The fact that this is a romantic comedy play; it’s very natural to have the play in French. It was difficult because half of the cast did not speak French. So it was important for them to learn their ‘cues’. In the end, the actors enjoyed it as much as I do! Drama is interesting, drama is entertaining, so I guess my life has been dramatic enough that it was reflected in the play!
KATRINE Bricks
FERNANDA Bricks
‘BRICKS’ IS A COM BINATION OF EVENTS THAT IS SEEM INGLY INDEPENDENT OF EACH OTHER.
EVERYTHING CAM E INTO PLACE, IT IS COM M ON EM OTION AND RELATION BETW EEN PEOPLE.
As a director you always correct people but it gets frustrating because it is your own feeling and understanding. You know that only when you sit and watch. So it is much harder to be an actor – it’s hard to evaluate oneself!
These reasons convince me to have the experience as an actor one day. As a director and writer, I knew how I wanted the play to be presented. It would have been interesting to challenge myself and see if I could understand my own work from another perspective.
I learn now that it’s hard to have a backstage that functions well because there is a lot of logistical things and it is a place where people wait. It’s kind of like a waiting room where people are extremely nervous and anxious. Once, it was really embarrassing when I tripped backstage and I was like “No, I did not do this” I hope people didn’t notice that!
I chose Katrine because I feel that she is the right person to work with. She has the brain and the techniques to understand the feelings that I imagine in ‘Bricks’. In writing the story, I didn’t think of the idea at first. I just kind of knew that if I did not start writing, then ‘Bricks’ wouldn’t have come up. Although it may seem everything came out of nowhere but in the end I realized that the play became genuinely a product of what I feel passionate about.
MOMIN Letters from ‘91
STANBA Letters from ‘91
TERRORISM FOR M E IS SOM ETHING W HICH PEOPLE THINK THEY KNOW , BUT THEY ACTUALLY DON’T. IT’S SOM ETHING THAT IS REALLY M ISUNDERSTOOD.
THERE W AS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE EXPLOSION, BUT THERE W ERE TW O EXPLOSIONS INSTEAD!
From this play, we have a different view on what terrorism is all about. It’s not always the way the topic is being shown. It’s good to hear two perspectives and then decide what you think about it. Letters from ‘91 was a short play, but I would like to have it more centered around more conflicts and stories if I had the chance to extend the narrative. My father told me to forward the script and he was like “Why did you write this play, isn’t it dangerous? But okay, once it has been uploaded on MUWCI TV, send me the link”
Some actors have improvised really well that the mistakes were not being noticed by the audiences! It was quite difficult when we have the play really short, but I am very satisfied with what we have done. What leads in a person’s life and how he becomes a terrorist? Are there actually steps for one to be such a character? These questions helped my ideas to develop. My parents were very happy that I have taken an initiative to talk these serious subjects in my play.