British playwright Mike Bartlett’s modern play Cockfound its dramatic adaptation on the stage of Mumbai, courtesy actor-turned-director Jim Sarbh with his small motley of cast- boyfriend Siddharth Kumar, girlfriend Aditi Vasudev, father Suhas Ahuja and pianist Kaizad Gherda. Cheekily titled Cock; presumably the boldness does not end with the title. Confronting strong thematic elements like homosexuality, bisexuality, identity and sexual politics; this Allmytea Productions’ latest theatrical presentation toyed with a truthful territory:

The Stage:

Bare.Empty. Minimal…and a white circle. This is the new age stage. Devoid of set, furniture, chairs even, props…nothing that will take away from the words of the actor and the imagination of the audience. The circular periphery acted as a befitting visual display of the protagonist’s repetitive but futile questioning of his sexual orientation. The claustrophobia felt by the protagonist John (Jim Sarbh) when constantly compelled by the society to define his sexuality, is well communicated through the stage space restricted by the circle. This kind of stage design releases the production from the compulsions of representing reality…the emphasis is therefore, on the play and provocation of ideas.

Lights and Sound:

Lights played the integral role of transitions throughout the performance. Guiding us from one scene to another was absolute darkness and absolute silence while the actors maintain their spot on stage; no entries, no exits. But, the next strand of dialogues picks up mid-way and the audience catches up with the characters’ already lived experience. This structure contributes towards the pace and movement of the play and keeps the audience engaged. The concept of live music on stage is getting popular and the notes of the piano add to the dramatic effect of the powerful dialogues without intruding into the voices of the characters.

Acting:

Bold actions like kissing between the male lovers, holding of the cock and a simulated orgasmic experience during sexual intercourse tear apart pretentious masques and portray bare naked truths of the thickly veiled bedroom life. What became primal in the capturing of the issues of sexuality was the subtle looks, the deliberate eye movements, the sexual nature of the caress to convince the audience about the sexual nature of the human body. Vital was the examination of the naked bodies of lovers- it foregrounded the sexual component of that thing we call love and marriage. To essay these characters seemed challenging because it was not what the actors could do with their bodies but more so how they could react to the presence of the body of another that created the friction of emotions on stage. The estrangement that exists between the male and the female body before the first sexual union is beautifully captured when John looks upon skeptically at his first female partner.

Script:

There is very subtle humor embedded in the tone and nuances of the script. It also contains thought provoking nuggets like the short monologue of John when he questions his partner’s father about the meaning of the cultural politics of the 1960s. Instead of being helpless about his confusion, when John attempts to sever the ties between sexuality and identity, Bartlett’s words are truly invoking the libertine and the egalitarian. However, what can also not be denied is the monotony and boredom arising from the repetitive nature of the conflict and dialogues in the second act of the play especially since the dinner conversation only reiterates the problem rather than uncovering new perspectives.

Anurag Kashyap…the name precedes his films. In the case of Ugly, even the trailers, promotions, the Kali-Katha clip and the artwork preceded the film’s actual showcase on the silver screen. Welcome aboard Kashyap’s signature moves- unusual frame compositions, low angle shots, saturated colors, plot dissecting non-linear editing style, coarseness of language and grotesque human desire. These familiar strokes of beauty are used and exhausted within the first few shots of the film. After that Ugly unfortunately begins to turn ugly! 






Here’s 5 Reasons why: 

It is impactful when Shalini (Tejaswene Kolhapure) holds the gun in her mouth in the opening scene; it is emotionally impotent when she aims the gun at her husband towards the end. 1 short monologue about her woes does not convince the audience of her mental and emotional evolution.

The police interrogation is heart-wrenching when acted out the first two times; after that even the threat and torture becomes repetitive a.k.a. non-intimidating. Action on screen loses impact when the audience is left guessing for the cause. Why is Chaitanya (Vineet Singh) repeatedly arrested? Why is Rahul (Rahul Bhat) recurrently threatened?
Expletives look gritty, they enhance the realism of the film, they add texture to the characters BUT what they CANNOT DO is REPLACE the dialogues. After a certain point in the film, the power of the words is seeped out of the frame.

Characters need to be consistent if the audience has to understand and relate with them. Their choices can change but their core essence cannot be confusing, which unfortunately is the case with the pivotal character of Shaumik Bose (Ronit Roy). After the unreasonable, aggressive and merciless beating of Rahul, he plays the good cop, the fine man, the caring father- and its stops adding up for the audience.

You cannot have contemporary, cutting-edge context with archaic, outdated content. This is with reference to the antiquated investigation processes the police employs to trace the suspects. IP address, unique identification number, credit card records, online phone calling services- they can be legitimate elementary processes but to the audience exposed to international law and crime TV series, it cannot incur intrigue and anticipation. A plot that moves on the threshold of a police investigation needs more meat than this.

The final revelation and discovery of the kidnapped child- now could there have been a more lame and hasty attempt at providing a denouement to the central issue of the narrative after several detours and digressions? The audience is bored and exhausted with the missing child at the end of two hours; only to discover that the writer/director has forgotten to offer even as much as an intriguing twist to the tale. 

It would be too simple and too simplistic to garner critical praises for Rajkumar Hirani’s P.K. Instead, let us garnish some ingredients that every director must stew in order to boil the perfect broth of cinematic entertainment.

The Socialized Salt

A single story can miss the goal, but a social story will never escape the collective net. P.K.hand picks its issues from the ground realities of religious hypocrisy, blind faith, communal conflicts and ritualistic practices, only to make it more palatable than the newspaper headlines on your breakfast table. Not that the Godhra riots and the Mumbai bomb blasts have not taught us our lessons but 24X7 news channels, reams of editorial columns and hundreds of tweets seem lacking and wanting when it comes to Hirani’s perspective on the fundamental conception of religion- a perspective, which comes, both literally and figuratively, out of space. Hirani goes back to the basics of religious anthropology- which establishes the genesis of religion in the primal human emotion of fear. It would take an alien to show us how religion has increasingly alienated us from the idea of God.

The Spice of Language

This is the filmmaker’s secret ingredient- to raise a theoretical and philosophical question that seldom orbits the planet of popular Bollywood- the spice called language and its relevance in and to human civilization. It is this spice that tickles the brain the most and raises hair raising questions- Does language really enable us to make meaning? Is language a trustworthy form of communication? Does language have an arbitrary source of formation? Are civilizations that have eliminated language more evolved than ours? The actor does not tend to the didactic but when P.K. (Aamir Khan) dishes out the varying contextual uses of the ubiquitous word Acha, you know he has provoked the intellect of its audience.

The Starry Meat

Speaking of Khan, we might as well add the meaty cast composition of stars like Sanjay Dutt, Anoushka Sharma, Boman Irani and Sushant Singh Rajput and star dazzle the spectators. When the actors within the frame are good looking and when the characters within the mis-en-scen wear their garb impeccably, you know that the silver screen is sure to shine through the hearts of the viewers. The cinematography captures still close-up moments like when Jaggu (Anousha Sharma) weeps at the memory of Sarfaraz (Sushant Singh Rajput) or the soft, subtle movements when Jaggu and P.K. dance on the roof or when Jaggu and Sarfaraz serenade to the Begian backdrop in a boat. These saturated coloured moments imprint its life on the memory of the audience beyond the darkness of the theatre.

The Screenful of Tadka 

A screenplay needs the right twang arriving at the right time in just the right proportion. The screenplay employs all its elements so as to either repeat it, sustain it or complete it. Jaggu’s fascination for poetry and her father’s whistling becomes the repetitive motif for her sensitive self, P.K.’s quest for the remote and Sarfaraz’s betrayal becomes the elements of sustenance in the plot and the minor character of the thief and Bhairon Singh (Sanjay Dutt) complete the narrative detour taken earlier with their emergence in the penultimate scene before the climax. A good cinematic chef is the one who selectively picks his ingredients and once added, ensures it dissolves with the rest for the frames should hold its unique tone, shade and flavor till the very end.

The Music Masala

That every successful and signature chef special requires the music masala is a well-established parable now. But, it truly takes a masterchef to dwell into the local, authentic accent and pronunciation of each of its character and then lend lyrics to their idiosyncratic personas. Waste of Time and Tharki Chokro are blazing emblems of excellence. Furthermore, to make the musical masala an inter-related side dish rather than a superficial dollop of desert is a mark of the master craftsman. Nanga Punga Dost resonate the protagonist’s identity and relationship with the humans while Bhagwan Hain Kahaan Re Tu capture the anguished resignation of the character’s hope. Thus, with P.K., music is the cinematic narrative set in notes and not stirred out of leftover scraps of a lyricist’s notes.

…And that’s how you brew P.K.- the Perfect Kurry from the Cult of Courage!

On the young and exuberant stage of Thespo, Sri Lanka’s Walking Path left an indelible theatrical trail to its Indian audience at Prithvi on Friday, December 19. This production whose central premise was the campaign to construct new parks and paths as a symbolic reconstruction of their nation; was designed without dialogues. The elimination of hitherto considered primal medium of communication was drastic enough. However, its foreknowledge gave the audience enough time to sharpen their senses.

The costume was marked with the unadulterated white- the impeccably pure and clear- just as the message of the performance. White being one of the conventional choice for mime artistes, the actors were divided into three sets right from the start- the runners, the vigilant enforcers and the vibrant youth. While the runners symbolized the mindless following of the authority, the vigilante group was the emblem of repressive state watchdogs and the youth represented the spirit of individual freedom and expression that were time and again curtailed in one way or the other. The minute distinction between the groups achieved through all white costumes showed the dependence on subtlety to communicate to tis audience. Superimposed against the black ambience of the theatre, the actors and their expressions were only enhanced further by the use of white smoke on stage.

The props like bags, sandwiches, sunscreen lotions, balloons et al were incorporated into the white schema. However, more interesting was the artificial cardboard versions of cellphones and laptops that were used as important objects as part of the performance. The unauthentic shade given to these objects adds a layer of the fantastical. Thus, it convinces the audience about its symbolic value and stresses its function as a message rather than a mere prop. Due to the absence of dialogues, the violence and the oppression is not pinned down to a specific situation or culture or political group or country. This enables the audience of a cross-cultural composition to connect with it through their own personal and political vantage point.

The music migrated from the realistic- like the sound of traffic, the sound of the birds, the cellphone beeps, cries of the babies to the symbolic- the calm beats for the youth that kept recurring, the humorous beat for the lighter scenes and the ironically melancholic during a mock crying scene. When one is not hearing words, the ears, surprising within a short period of time, becomes tuned to capturing the wide minutiae of sounds used in the play.

The use of stage space and set design were exceptionally minimalistic in nature. The white benches of different sizes used were once again employed to function at two levels- the real and the symbolic. Coupled with the superlative acting, the benches helped in recreating in the minds of the audience a virtual setting and a convincing one at that. At the more symbolic level, they indicated the physical proximity and emotional distance that exist among people today.

The acting was the limelight of the performance, the showstopper, the penultimate weapon of mass appeal and adulation. What the seven lead actors and the wide array of auxiliary actors succeeded in doing is to outline the role of the human body in theatre. It stood as a reminder to the fans of the theatre that this art form is conducted through the body primarily. That the body remains the most powerful carrier of thoughts and ideas. The mobile phone scene where the director wanted to showcase the emotional saturation, alienation and insensitivity perpetrated by modern technology is the point in case. The actor who creates an emotionally charged moment of grief through his crying and struggling body induces pathos in the audience only to immediately throw in comic relief and anti-climactic laughter. Yet, the human condition has never appeared more pitiful where deep angst has to be artificially cultivated to secure the mandatory, obsessive likes and laughter on social networking sites. The behind-the-scene conductor of this show, the director, achieved a theatrical stroke of excellence with the supremely well-coordinated body movements and eye contact in the scene where the actors were portraying the perfect harmony and togetherness with each other. It also had one of those rare incorporations of the gay couple in a public park being under the scanner of the moral police. The actors had such prowess that they controlled their reaction to the presence of other actors on stage with as much panache as they created the feeling of love and sexual attraction towards their partners.

It is difficult to sustain the symbolic and the silent for an unbroken period of 75 minutes. But, Walking Path did exactly that and more- it sustained a continuum of critical thinking and emotions for an intensely moving period of 75 minutes. 

Hamlet to Haider- A Walk down the Adaptation Road

There was a reason why Shakespeare carved the crown of a tragic hero atop a King- for, contemporary England witnessed a most bloody and conspiring game of thrones. For, the fall of this individual tumbles the town. Precisely as Ghazala (Tabu) presages, “Ghar nahin, aap poora gaav jalaoge”.  Vishal Bhardwaj’s proclivity for adaptation lay in the transference of not content, but context- from the territorial tension between Denmark and Norway to the internal conflict between the militants and the Indian military force, from the Elizabethan Hamlet to the Indian Haider. He will also not hesitate from breaking conventional norms by introducing the protagonist through the dialogue of another character- keeping in line with the Shakespearean signature of creating on-stage presence of the protagonist while keeping the actor off-stage. The setting is further deepened through the development of the visual image of the river Jhelum as a metaphorical tale of loss of and quest for the missing in militant Kashmir. The well-choreographed montages for the song establish the protagonist’s angst as representative of an entire state’s collective woes. No place else is the repercussion of political instability at the top manifested on the ground realities than in Kashmir. An adaptation of this manner carries a special magnitude for, Bharadwaj truly succeeds in making Shakespeare both relevant and timeless.

The Oedipus Complex encompassed in the character and motivation of Hamlet emerges in nuanced and shrewdly directed shots- when young Haider (Anshuman Malhotra) creeps between the blanket in his parents’ bed, when he dabs perfume on his mother’s neck and kisses it, the first dialogue between adult Haider (Shahid Kapur) and his mother as an accusation of her sexual betrayal to his father, the endearing term “Jana” used to call the son. The scene at the center of the flower strewn path showcases a shadow of ambivalence in the intention of the mother figure- whether she awaits the father’s return or the father’s corpse. 

The repeated shots of the burnt down house is symbolic of the underlying intention of the play- to deromanticize the idea and concept of the family, to raise the curtain on the ugly underbelly of desires and ambitions that betray honest vows and pious bonds. It therefore stands ironical that Ghazala is shown teaching her class of young, innocent babes the conventional, textbook definitions of a house- caring, loving, protecting. 

The character of Ophelia essayed by Shraddha Kapoor (as Arshia) was left to be developed at the hands of the script writers completely since the Bard left her role to the bare margins. Here, she offers her lovelorn lip to purge Haider of his grief, becomes his woman to mark his manhood and sexual fantasies, displays fearful naivety in revealing Haider before her father.  

The twin characters of Salman (Sumit Kaul and Rajat Bhagat) work as effective cast members- ghosts of Rosencratz and Guildenstern- they bear the appearances of fools innocuously emulating their Bollywood idol Salman Khan and thereby provide comic relief. Yet, the theme of appearance and reality is well wielded even in these characters since they are also acting as spies for Pervez (Lalit Parimoo), Arshia’s father.

Shakespeare’s King Claudius and Bharadwaj’s Khurram (Kay Kay Menon) and his rise to power juxtaposed with the Bhan performance playing out the hope for a new Kashmir is deeply ironical. Now, the film reaches the point of revelation where the well-guarded veils and illusions begin to disintegrate- the promised political freedom for Kashmir, Ghazala’s warm veneer of trust and virtue, Haider’s controlled and restrained form of revenge/anger. The close-up shot of Ghazala with the unmistakable smile of accomplishment is in sharp contrast to the appearance of the suffering “half widow” of the preceding scenes. Also significant change to note is that the frame has now replaced the vulnerable son with the lusty lover. 

Irrfan Khan’s special appearance- “Main doctor ki ruh hoon” is very significant since it is an Allusion and homage to the significant character of the Ghost in the original play- the message of avenging the man and beckoning mercy for the woman- similar to the sympathetic attitude of The Ghost towards Gertrude who, according to him, has a weak constitution. This Ghost in Shakespeare is constructed in the same vein as the three witches of Macbeth- they are characters that are deliberately of ambiguous origin and identity. This allows the creation of the internal conflict in the protagonist’s mind- the dramatic struggle between good and evil. In the context of Hamlet, it is the suspicious presence of the Ghost (and the passionate persuasion of Roohdar) that creates the doubt in the mind of the audience about the hero’s true motivation- revenge for his father or sexual envy over his mother, external circumstance or internal vice. 

The transformation of the central character is effective for, here the madness that Hamlet is allegedly affected with is brought to the fore. Of course, it is the metaphorical madness of betrayal, incestuous relationships, violence, oppression and political conspiracy. Thus, the existential question, “To be or not to be?” is echoed alongside the successive list of constitutional articles and amendments- for in Bharadwaj’s stage, Haider is not the story of individual angst but a political drama of democratic and diplomatic failure. It questions the historical position of Kashmir in time and the collective aspirations of the common man in India and Pakistan.

The Bhan performance led by Haider serves the purpose of the metanarrative strand in the original Elizabethan script. The authentic cultural identification mirrors the strength of art as a powerful commentator on life and reality. Significantly, this role play establishes the lonely, isolated position of Haider versus the personal and political relationships around him. For, he is the sole writer and director of this play within a play. 

The icy, cold setting of the graveyard and the morbid mood of the dug graveyards and the lyrical almost soothing invitation to the other side of life- foreshadows the series of deaths that will ensue in the climax of the film. The playful, humorous tone with which death is being discussed captures the vision of the original playwright- the human folly of assuming life to be grave and worthy. A flickering candle, a fleeting dream, a vision of dust- that is it, in candid, simple words; the truth of life in a nutshell- the meaning and purpose of life. The use of silence during the significant death of Ghazala reduces elements of life to a conundrum of sound and fury!

Arpana Theatre’s Stories in a Song comes with its own definition- a collage of music, theatre and literature. And then it pushes its own periphery of performance- to encompass history, culture, human nature. Musically conceived by Shubha Mudgal and Aneesh Pradhan and directed by Sunil Shanbag, this menagerie of six narratives represents theatre as a conduit of critique and change. Flanked by the pakhawaj, dholak, table and harmonium; the live sounds and rhythms infuse an authentic setting to every era, act as the travelling troubadour and create characters out of actors by adding the additional dramatic layer.

While confessedly, the word cannot illumine the stage, here’s glimpsing through the stories that outlived their stage life:

Mahatma Gandhi and the Tawaif Sabha:

The conventional figure of the sutradhar underscores the marginalized position of the prostitutes and just when the audience anticipates a story of redemption, the fourth wall and the falsity of representation are simultaneously ruptured- the character on stage interrupts the sutradhar and claims ownership of her own story, in her own voice. This directorial choice tells the audience that the intention to get the tawaifs to the centre of stage and history is for real.  For those in the audience who could not grasp the meaning of every word sung by the tawaif(Ketaki Thatte), the facial expressions and gestures sufficed to invoke the premise of the song-narrative. The sensual appeal of the tawaif is at once transformed into her performative body rather than her sexual one. The interaction with the Mahatma is narrated onstage by the tawaif as an offstage incident in the past- this fluid transition in time and space further engages the audience in the imaginative process of the traditional story-telling tradition.  

Chandni Begum:

If the characters and sutradhar exchanged places in the previous one, here the fictional stage dramatizes fictional characters from Qurat-Ul-Ain Haider’s novel Chandni Begum. Art meets reality and reality ruptures art…the line has blurred. Here, music ceases to be a mere medium, in fact, it assumes the significance of a theme. The hypocrisy of the Socialist revolutionary ideologies and propaganda add the shade of sarcasm while underscoring the socio-economic constructs for a genre of music to thrive. What was astonishing to see was the development of the character of Bela (Trisha Kale) and the times, within the extremely short stage span through the nuanced singing she undertakes. The song at the wedding has sly undertones of boldness, the mother’s song assumes a nostalgic sentiment of a time when women and marriage were best companions. The same song emerges as the feminine voice of resistance to preserve and redeem her lost dignity at the hands of materialistic lust wanderers.

Bahadur Ladki:

When the sutradharadheres to contemporary Bollywood cinema as the child of nautanki, it shows the production’s self-conscious place in the historical continuum of lineage. The rendition of the Ganesh Vandana reiterates the now forgotten sacrosanct relationship between the artist and his art, between aesthetics and its spiritual force. Comprising entertainment in the form of humour, this segment showcases the effective amalgamation of spectacle and scrupulous social awareness. While the acting prowess of the Sippaiya (Namit Das) is par excellent, it is the acumen of the writer and director to establish the adaptive nature of language. The genre belongs to North India, the English dialogues beckons to the colonial authenticity of the character. The foreign language of the classes is accommodated and appropriated within the native genre of the masses. Ironically, it is the indigenous characters that mock the British accent- the uproar from the audience further makes them an equal participant in reducing the colonial Sippaiya to a comic caricature.

Sufi Basant:

For a narrative that is admittedly musical in nature, it is a sublime spectacle to unravel the story of spring through the choreography of color and lights. The blue light with a tinge of yellow casts the right melancholic mood for the mourner at the shrine. Basant is personified through the characters of the female singers- their bright yellow dupattas further deepening the brightness of their multi-coloured velvet kurtis. The fresh flush of yellow light flooding the right center of the stage along with the subdued movements and subtle teasing of the women characters infuse the stage with a transcendental mood. It is elevating and solacing at once- this yellow spirit when handed over to the sutradharwho wraps it around himself- truly creates Basant as a lived character.

Whose Music Is It?

This segment plays with the duality of atmospheres to communicate the difference in two worlds and worldviews. The contrast between the ideal and the commercial, the juxtaposition of the Indian with the Western is showcased through the visible distinction between the costumes and dialogues of the Classical singer and that of the playback music director. For the former, the stage is barren, the colors earthy and dialogues frugal; for the latter, the stage is strongly lit, accentuated with reverberating sound beats and an infusion of dialogue. Caught between these two, the narrative expresses the basic human desire for fame and acceptance.  

Kajri Akhada:

The ultimate rendition reverts to the unifying art form- theater. Although a competition of and between musicians, the transactional communication between the actor-singers and the audience takes place through the unadulterated art of acting. This segment demonstrated the significance of reaction in theatre. For most part, the focus is on the lead singer/s but it is the consistent reactions of the non-singing actors that added meaning to the musical tete-a-tete. The mock questioning of the validity of stories and rumours raises an interesting question of doubt and trust in the mind of the audience. The collective interest however, is clearly established- in the element and intention of dramatic quality. Be it the loud colors of the jackets or the pronounced body language of the actors; this last genre reinforces the loud, unabashed and dramatic quality of Indian regional theater and its indelible impact.   

 ख़ुशी की बूंदो से भरा पत्ता
गम की टहनी से नाम क्यों हो जाता हैं?

स्पर्श के हाथों से भरी आदत
तन्हाई की महक से भूल क्यों जाती हैं?

अपनों के शब्द से भरा खत
अनजान सियाह से मिट क्यों जाता हैं?

प्यार की लहर से भरा प्याला
समुद्र के किनारे पहुंच चला क्यों जाता हैं?

दिल की नादानी से भरा रिश्ता
वक़्त के दायरे से रिहा क्यों हो जाता हैं?

विश्वास की पुकार से भरी आवाज़
शक के झोकों से दब क्यों जाती हैं?

साज़ की कशिश से भरी ज़िन्दगी
सोज़ की कसक से मात क्यों जाती हैं?

तुम्हारे शब्दों की बंदगी हो

जिसमे मेरी आज़ाद आवाज़ हो…

तब चलेंगे हम.

तुम्हारी ज़िन्दगी के दरम्यान

मेरी कल्पना की जुस्तुजू हो…

तब चलेंगे हम. 

तुम्हारी हाँ की सोज़ में

मेरी हर ना का जवाब मिले…

तब चलेंगे हम.

तुम्हारी ज़िद की ताक़त में

मेरी सफलता की हार दिखे…

तब चलेंगे हम. 

तुम्हारी मुस्कान की रौनक में

मेरी रात का शामिल निश्चय हो…

तब चलेंगे हम. 

तुम्हारी पुकार की आज़ादी में

मेरी saaz तृप्त हो…

तब चलेंगे हम. 

तुम्हारी सुबह की आशा में

मेरी शाम मद्धम हो…

तब चलेंगे हम.

तुम्हारी ज़िन्दगी की एक आस हो

मेरी रूह की वही आहात हो

तब चलेंगे हिम.

A French opera Carmen that found its first audience in 19th century France metamorphosed itself into a Hinglish theatrical production that ran its pulse through the suburban Mumbai audience of 21st century India. Helmed by veteran director Sunil Shanbag, Club Desire made its first impression with the simultaneous existence of multiple stage spaces - the glamorous Club Desire, the lusciously rugged bedroom, the coarsely carpeted writing desk and the frugally furnished formal office space. 

The scenes played out in these spaces had their own distinct tempo and shade. Adding a contemporaneous hue to the stage set was the psychedelic projection screen that served several purposes- enhance the mood, build the tempo, aid the singing protagonist’s words and show the emotional distance between characters by acting as the sms screen. Befitting to the setting and milieu of the play- a night club- was the band of boys who were a welcome change to the stage of theatre parched of live music. The lights were used strategically to evoke the alluring sexiness of the club singer, the angst-filled rendition of Chaahat’s childhood, the raving spirit of inducing DJ mix and the uncomfortable sexual tension between the lead lovers. 

The costumes became an extension of the character’s identity- silk shirt and suspenders for the Sindhi club owner, earthy cotton trousers and kurta for the Hindi poet, brightly coloured jacket for the Gen Next DJ, pronounced kurta over jeans for the young, liberal Hindi novelist and body hugging treggings for the sultry club singer.

All technical elements laid bare, the theatrical rendition leans heavily on words and dialogues to express the suppressed and unearth the unspoken. The opening scene that foregrounded the Armadillo song “I wish I could sing” apparently seemed out of context but hold your patience and it cleverly establishes itself as a thematic element in the plot. The crafty nature of the script is revealed in retrospect when this short random piece of the opening scene established the protagonist Chahat and her journey of redemption from the “catastrophe” of her childhood. The Sindhi club owner’s casual dialogues and comic hysterics too are not left alone - they are soon catapulted to a complex debate about multiplicity of languages and the dilution of identity, the cost of authenticity at the advent of post-modern lingo and the power positions and social status language can affirm or deny. This symbol and intellect laden piece of dialogue prepares the audience for a script that uses characters and plot as mere aesthetic tools to build an intellectual and metaphysical rhetoric and introspection on the very nature of life itself. While this is a laudable task, this is also where the myriad self-contradictions in the play come erupting out, if you are careful enough to catch them. In a classic “art mirrors life” parallel, a young Hindi novelist’s debut narrative about a courtesan’s theatrical journey set against the backdrop of the Indian Independence movement proposes the idea of the death of the author. 

It is Aparna production’s equivalent of toying with the idea that fictional characters take their own lives and meaning. In the context of the play, from the point of view of Chahat and the youth of today is supposed to be liberating. Ironically, the script of Club Desire has its writers and their words written all across the scenes especially when they are constantly and sometimes unnaturally made to act as mouthpieces for the core debate between words and sound, the mind and the body, the conventional and the bohemian, the patriarchal and the feminine. The moments when Chahat bursts into songs in the middle of a conversation with Jayam is a point in case. For a play that aims at challenging patriarchy and breaking the traditional dualisms of society, Arundhati Subramaniam’s poetry that refuses to categorize a woman’s identity as “either/or” is befitting. 

However, it is ironic that in order to establish an independent female protagonist, she had to be carved as a sexy, glamorous singer in a socially tabooed place like a night club. A script that is aiming at breaking and questioning stereotypes (ref: when DJ Abeer accuses Jayam of operating out of prejudices and stereotypes) contradicts itself when all its characters are built on the infrastructure of the stereotypical- the wealth chasing Sindhi, the idealistic frustrated Hindi writer/translator, the sexually active club singer. While Chahat makes a case for Gulabo’s sense of fidelity and love that is not the same as the phallocentric conceptualization of the “male” love of territorial possession; her own hesitation to partake of sexual attention and pleasure from DJ Abeer in the absence of Jayam seemed to fall into the same conventional trap it seems to defy. Similarly, the extensive and incisive word versus spontaneity, structure versus fluidity disputes- that formed the truly provocative portions of this piecemeal- falls into shallow quarters when Chahat’s songs are decorated with extreme wordiness of words in Subramaniam’s poetry. The core nature of her poetry is dependent on words, the meaning of her verse revolves around the exploration of the quantum of the English language. The poem “the heart is a verb” is a fine example of the same where the simile itself is built around comparison with words and grammatical understanding. When a character who is canvasing for meaning in the absence of language resorts to words as her medium of expression, the message can get confusing. 

Having said that, one cannot help but appreciate the courage of a production house to foreground issues of language, identity, sexuality and patriarchy by revisiting the fundamental binaries we are brought up with.

The ensemble of actors was dominated by Palomi Ghosh who essayed the role of Chahat as fearlessly and fiercely as the contours of the stage could allow. Creating the stark contrast of character and ideology was Jaimini Pathak donning the hat of Jayam, the Hindi translator/poet. Small gestures and minute actions were well directed to hold the character’s essence even through non-verbal cues. However, once the characters are set rolling into their patterns, they became set and predictable. One could not differentiate the nuances between one song to another, one angst-wrenched Hindi soliloquy from another – and this due to no fault of the actors. This is where perhaps the directorial creativity could have had the power to change and innovate.

Ron, the club owner first switches the lights on the signage of Club Desire on stage and this sets the tone and theme of this opera inspired drama- exploration of the power politics and gender equations played on the nebulous yet all-pervasive and all-powerful entity called desire. With its myriad dramatic devices and acting prowess, the play provokes the conventional and comfortable. Only its scripted self-contradictions and directorial monotony draws the line of limitation in delivering the truly liberated to its logical end.

A fine film, I have always believed, is the one that privileges its form and frames its story such. Spike Jonze (director) understands this…he is in love with his craft and accords it the respect it deserves.

Strip the mis-en-scen of Her from its sound and dialogues and the visual imagery on screen will stand on firm, independent feet to tell a narrative. Hoyte van Hotema (director of photography) captures the contemporary urbanized landscape and yet superimposes a silence alien to this city experience. The lit, city silhouette shot by the glass window of an apartment or by the terrace, in a silent moment of quietude creates a contradiction between the aural and visual. This foregrounds the contemporary irony of the felt alienation of the city dweller in the midst of millions.

Conventionally, city narratives allow the cityscape to overwhelm and dominate the reel life just as it does the characters in real life. But Hotema’s camera closes in on the protagonist (Joaquin Phoenix) time and again. The close, claustrophobic shots aim at alienating, almost minimizing the presence of the steel structures of the city. The audience is lured into the emotional and psychological reality of the protagonist who is looking for intimacy, solace, love, warmth and acceptance. Even when the bright panel of warm, saturated colours fill the interior setting of the office space, it is accompanied by stretched silence that makes the chaotic work space more surreal than real. Once again, it is not about the external space of the environment as much as about the inner space of the minds of the characters.

The pivotal cornerstone on which the plot of Her stands is the age-old tete-a-tete between modern artificiality and natural Romanticism. Juxtaposed against the contemporary, minimalist modern interior space is the rare outdoor space of Nature but the latter is not seen as a liberation or escape from the former. In fact, Nature and Modernity converge in images like that of the elevator where black silhouettes of leaves and branches exist as a grotesque reminder of the artificial world the characters find themselves inadvertently trapped in. The conflict of the plot is laid bare thus: the confrontation of inherent, human emotions with the technologically mutated, inhuman superstructures that the 21^st century has presented the developed and developing worlds with.

To define, decode and deconstruct this unusual love story between the protagonist and the voice of an operating system is the most engaging and exhausting mental process and emotional journey for the viewer. For, like he layers his craft, Jonez also multi-facets his perspective on modern love stories and human relationships. Once again, juxtaposition becomes his favoured narrative choice. Theodore’s (Phoenix) growing intimacy with Samantha (voice of Scarlett Johansson) is juxtaposed with the disintegrated marriage and divorce with his wife Catherine (Rooney Mara) and these two are further juxtaposed with the incompatible marriage between Amy (Amy Adams) and Charles (Matt Letscher) and the inter-cultural romance between Paul (Chris Patt) and Tatiana (Laura Kai Chen). The intention however after placing these parallels, is to leave the audience with questions, both complicated and comprehensive, accessible and evasive:

• Theodore’s first marriage was lived through all its physical reality of togetherness yet fails to withstand a long-standing emotional accommodation. Theodore’s relationship with Samantha constantly allows this space for emotional dialogue and openness. In the eventuality that both these relationships come to an end, can we pin longevity as a parameter for the test of a romantic relationship?
• Amy’s marriage with Paul is destined to fall apart due to the gendered domination of one over the other and the obligation of the written contract. Theodore, on the other hand, has all the freedom to change or shut down the OS and Samantha demands respect for her unique identity from minute one. Is marriage an evolution of romance or the reversal of space and respect? Also, what is the definition of a true marriage? Of the minds or of the bodies? Are the two mutually exclusive? Can the two ever co-exist?
•  Paul and Tatiana envision a life full of love and happiness. Samantha claims that Shakespearean eternity for her digitally formless self, which is ironically juxtaposed against the mortality of the flesh-and-bone humans. The spiritual questioning that the narrative erupts to the surface is this: do we love with our minds? Do we feel through our bodies? Do we physically compromise or emotionally overreach?

Answers may galore. For, the narrative is built in pure cinematic glory. Her is a story that prods, a song that haunts and a serenade that compels. The slow pace of editing and the smooth cuts are more exciting than exacerbating since each moment on reel seeks a reflection from and on the real.

Self-confessedly inspired by the narrative format of Paris, je t'aime and heavily influenced by literary movements, writers Aritra Sengupta and Ayanti Ghosh have scripted a competent play in the form of With Love, Calcutta. I deliberately and consciously mention the two spearheading Bengalis as writers and not directors for here is a rare stage production whose sole strength lies in the lines- a fact foreshadowed by the pamphlet handed over at the entrance with the “Synopsis” and the “Director’s Note” unmistakably pronounced for every member of the audience. 
An intellectually stringed ensemble of short vignettes act as lyrical odes to the City of Joy tracing its journey from Calcutta to Kolkata, from the old to the changing, from the colonial to the communal. The personified voice of the city opened the play with a highly stylized poetic monologue and its rendition was further heightened with the symbolic play with light and darkness. The lantern with its constant light and its flickering shadows almost visually set the theme of the stage- the convergence of the good and the bad in this beleaguered city of joy. The too contrite quality of the words in this monologue, if it overwhelmed the audience and got lost on them; the effective employment of lights made up for setting the mood.They usually say that film is the sixth art that encompasses all the other existing art forms in order to express and communicate. The multi-platform and multimedia approach adopted by the directors lifted the stage experience to that degree of the sixth art. 
The usage of real life footage mapping the historical and political changes of Calcutta served as an apt juxtaposition with the short fictional narratives and character snatches; the latter acting as the felt repercussions of the former. Yet another juxtaposition albeit not an effective one, was that of seasoned and amateur actors. While the script remained strong throughout, the difference in the stage experience of the actors seeps through- not so much in the acting in as much as the nuances. 
The actor playing the role of the daughter in the mother-daughter narrative and the soliloquy delivered in the Durga Pooja segment is a point in case. The lines looked too rehearsed, the facial expressions repetitive and the replies in conversations too sharply demarcated to look natural. The lack of compliment here can be transferred in the form of credit to the make-up artists who constantly kept transforming young actors into older characters and the same actors into myriad characters. In sharp contrast to the amateurish bumps, the monologue delivered by the drunken, alcoholic beggar infused with sharp, caustic witticism and heightened with the dramatic interplay of lights succeeded in creating an impressive theatrical experience. The interjected direct address by the actor to the lights operator also ensured the powerful breaking of the fourth wall and gave vigor to the deliberate and self-conscious statement being made by the medium of the stage by the powerfully minded MOD group. 
The Existential angst being transposed through the unequivocal and representative voice of the old, debilitating character of the father was a masterstroke to say the least. The intellectual and material, the nostalgic and the futuristic, the sentimental and the pragmatic…this capsuled version of multiple clashes and frictions within the two generations of the contemporary Bengali society manifested the deep-rooted understanding of the city the MOD artistes possess. To have the last monologue and the most effective penultimate vignette in and through the character of a mentally imbalanced beggar served well to act as a metaphor for the madness and the deterioration that the city is experiencing. The antithetical and paradoxical epithets of the poem constructed by the documentary filmmakers seem to pale in comparison and leaves the audience wishing that this script had been packaged with one scene less.
For all the Mumbaikars who feel that only their city can impregnate artists with tales of the flesh and the mind, With Love Calcutta opened up the raw guts and sublime moments of an urban space much criticized, much colonized, much chastised.