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THEATRICS: The shape of things to come
Every so often one is treated to a play where as much time and effort has been expended on the technical aspects of the performance as on marketing — a play that allows one to harbour the fond hope that theatre will, after all and against the odds, stage a comeback in Pakistan.
Sufaid Khoon proved such a production. Staged at the Karachi Arts Council from April 24 to May 4 2008, the Zia Mohyuddin-directed play constituted the debut production of the recently-formed Repertory Theatre Company of the National Academy of the Performing Arts (Napa).
A free adaptation of King Lear, Sufaid Khoon was written by Agha Hashr Kashmiri who was, in his own lifetime, referred to as the Shakespeare of India. The poet turned dramatist’s work is emblematic of the Parsi Theatre and the New Theatre Movement during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and representative of the hyperbolic melodrama that has had such an enduring influence on the dramatic traditions of the region.
For the most part, the production played to packed halls. With veteran Talat Hussain in the lead, accompanied by a good number of Napa-trained actors and singers, Sufaid Khoon brought together the diverse skills taught at the academy and constituted a reminder that while the gimmickry employed in too many amateur theatre productions is all very well, what is really required is a deep and nuanced understanding of the script and character motivation, command over voice, movement and diction, and the ability to absorb the part until the character is indistinguishable from the actor.
A brief word about the play: Hashr took his idea from King Lear but beyond that used theatrical devices that were the norm in his time. So we have a main plot where the aging Emperor Khaqan (Talat Hussain) demands that his three daughters express their love for him. The elder two, Mahpara (Bakhtawar Mazhar) and Dilara (Maria Rabab), wax lyrical but Zara (Aymen Aly) says only that she loves him just as she ought.
Having banished his youngest, the arrogant emperor finds that his elder daughters’ flattery was motivated by greed. Thrown out into the wilderness, the emperor learns some humility while Mahpara and Dilara jockey for the control of the throne by murdering their father and sister. But the double-dealings of Bairum (Paras Masroor), the ambitious illegitimate son of a courtier, cause the evil sisters to bring about their own deaths while Zara helps her father regain control of his throne.
Interspersed with the high melodrama, the main plot is a sequence of burlesque comedy that is internally consistent and entirely self-contained. This thread has no bearing on the darker scenes, and represents instead an average household with the cheeky maid Guldam (Uroosa Shamim Siddiqui) and amorous servant Gul Khairu (Farhan Shah) torment, primarily, the virtuous tutor Bahglol (Syed Ather Abbas).
As is to be expected of an actor of his experience, Talat Hussain turned in an absorbing and finely-balanced performance, in particular handling the emperor’s descent into dementia with delicate depth. It is not easy to transform an arrogant emperor into a pathos-evoking old man, but Mr Hussain managed this without resorting to stereotypes that a less professional actor would have found inevitable.
Similarly able performances were turned in by Paras Masroor, Uroosa Siddiqui, Farhan Shah and Ather Abbas. Where Masroor brought depth to the Machiavellian machinations of Bairum, the others handled scenes requiring great energy and concentration with deceptive ease.
Since space constraints forbid an exploration into the performances of all the other actors (over a dozen, in addition to nearly two dozen supporting cast members and singers) it must be noted that the levels of technical competence were high across the board. The energy and effort expended by the director, Zia Mohyuddin, were in ample evidence, particularly in the diction and vocal/motivational clarity of the actors.
Sufaid Khoon brought together the diverse skills taught at Napa and constituted a reminder that while the gimmickry employed in too many amateur theatre productions is all very well, what is really required is a deep and nuanced understanding of the script and character motivation, command over voice, movement and diction, and the ability to absorb the part until the character is indistinguishable from the actor.
Agha Hashr’s dialogue, referred to as ‘heightened prose’ (rhyming without being metered or composed as poetry), is not easy to handle. In fact, asked about the greatest challenge he faced during rehearsals, Mr Mohyuddin confessed that “it was to get the cast to evolve stylistic homogeneity as far as the prose was concerned. This is Hashr’s heightened prose at its best.”
In line with the traditions of the playwright’s time, the production started and ended with songs that were composed by Nafees Ahmad and sung live by members of the Napa Music Ensemble — a refreshing change from the otherwise all-pervasive playback habit.
Where the play lost ground, unfortunately, was in the set and light design. The set design by Mohd Schahbaz Chaudhry was somewhat inexplicable since the focus was on the court scenes (of which there were only two), while much of the play’s important action scenes took place before a sadly ordinary black curtain. The flats used in the comedy sequence were delicately coloured and made an effective background, but were not tall enough to entirely cover the court set that remained onstage throughout and took up valuable stage space. The lighting design was competent but unremarkable, and did not make discernable use of colour gels or variation. The lights were used to merely illuminate the stage and failed to provide either counterpoints or echoes to the play’s shifting moods.
In some scenes, in fact, the stage appeared over-lit since instead of providing the delicate hues of dusk and shadows that would have added depth to the forest scenes, the light resembled the full white glare of the sun. Light design is a specialised field, a vital ingredient of the visual art that is theatre, and one hopes that this aspect will receive attention in future productions.
Nevertheless, the production was of the high quality, as befits the fact that this was the first time Sufaid Khoon was ever staged in Pakistan in its entirety. Asked about the choice of script, Mr Mohyddin said “I had wanted to begin with a play reflecting our so-called classical heritage. The first Urdu play written as a play, i.e. with the express motivation of being performed on stage and with technical directions and components to this end, was written in the mid-nineteenth century. By the time we reach Agha Hashr’s period, drama in Urdu was established and had evolved.”
Although Hashr began writing in imitation of the other playwrights of his era, he became a star. Mr Mohyuddin points
out: “By the time he wrote Sufaid Khoon, Hashr’s own style had developed and had become established.”The Napa Repertory Theatre Company intends to put up four to six further plays this year. According to the company’s artistic director Rahat Kazmi, these will be staged on a rotational basis and may be repeated at two-month intervals in the true essence of repertory theatre. “The primary aim,” he explains, “is not only to develop a theatre-going habit but also to motivate writers to turn their attention towards writing exclusively for the stage.”
Given that the company also hopes to commission translations of major dramatic scripts from across the world and produce them on stage, it seems that Karachi has much to look forward to while the canon of plays available in Urdu will also be expanded.
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