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Some drama from the French
Sanam Amin attends the French Drama Festival at the Shilpakala Academy, where 17th century French comedy is adapted to become urban Dhakaite entertainment
photo by Sanam Amin
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The weeklong French Drama Festival at the Shilpakala Academy National Theatre Hall drew to an end yesterday with a performance of Bhaddronok (an adaptation of Moliere’s Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme) from the theatre group Natyachakra.
Jointly organised by the Alliance Française, Natukay and Fame, the first three days’ plays were produced by Alliance Française Chittagong and performed by the students of Fame, the school of dance, music and drama. These were Jean Anouilh’s Antigone, Franz Kafka’s The Trial 14 and Moliere’s La Marriage. Except for Tuesday, there was one play every evening at 7pm. The following two days saw productions from Dhaka Theatre Mancha and Loko Natyadol.
Dhaka Theatre Mancha presented Ghor Jamai, an adaptation of Moliere’s George Dandin. Instead of French aristocracy, however, the family is a ‘khandan’ one based in Dhaka, where the father of the family, Mohammad Ali is the managing director of a textile industry. The daughter Rehana is married to Solaiman Ali Mondol, a man who has a lower social position and was hoping to easily rise to the top by marrying a rich man’s daughter. However, things don’t quite work to his advantage as his in-laws, including his wife, hold him in contempt. At the opening of the play Solaiman is airing his complaints to the audience when he notices a scruffy-looking man sneaking out of the house. Upon apprehending him, Kader admits to Solaiman that he carried love letters back and forth between Rehana and her lover. Enraged, Solaiman immediately reports this to Rehana’s parents, but when confronted, Rehana says Sabbir is just her friend and creates a tremendous scene drawing everyone’s sympathy — because her husband does not have faith in her or her love. Furthermore, Sabbir turns out to be the son of one of Rehana’s father’s contemporaries and so draws the approval of Mohammad Ali, who values the ‘khandan’ and the rich. The play continues with the couple blatantly carrying on an affair right under Solaiman’s nose, at every turn saving themselves from infamy by Rehana’s great presence of mind and superb acting skills. At one point, Solaiman almost has her beaten when he locks her out of the house in the middle of the night when she has stepped out to meet her lover. Rehana initially tries to sweet-talk him into letting her back in before her parents come and witness her humiliation. When he refuses, she despairs and draws a knife, pretending to stab herself. Solaiman is horrified and rushes out, only to be tricked and locked out. The parents arrive and Rehana wails that her husband spent the whole night out drinking — there was no end to her suffering. The conclusion is, in Solaiman’s words, do not be a ‘ghor jamai’; it is not the easy way out that you think it is!
As for Kanjoosh, the adaptation done by Tarik Anam from Moliere’s L’Avare tells the same story in a completely Bangladeshi context, presented by Loko Natyadal. The miserly Haider Ali economises to an unimaginable extent and suspects everyone of trying to make away with his money. He prepares to marry for the second time to a woman called Marjina, coincidentally the same woman his son is in love with. At the same time he tries to arrange his daughter Laily’s wedding, unaware that she is in love with Badiuzzaman, who works in Haider Ali’s home as a servant but actually is the son of a very wealthy family. Directed by Liakuat Ali Lucky, the play incorporated immense amounts of slapstick humour that drew constant laughs from the audience. At one point, when the son has discovered his father’s secret money stash of Tk 5 lakh and runs off with it, the father calls the police and insists that every authority, including the Supreme Court and ‘Batash Bhaban’ be applied to so that his money can be returned to him immediately. Eventually the son and daughter marry their respective beloveds, and the father concedes with the condition that he does not have to pay for the wedding expenses. The director has been creative in the incorporation of popular Hindi songs, such as ‘Pyar kiya toh darna kya’ and ‘Mera juta hai japani.’ The indignation of Lal Mia and Kala Mia (both baburchi and bicyclist: shorts for one profession and lungi for the other) and the raucous treatment they receive from the conniving old Haider Ali provides some very obvious comedy that transcends languages. Although the set was quite bare and minimalist, the characters made do with props such as cheap sunglasses and badnas to make a dramatic entry and often a hurried escape. There is a lot of running around, attacking and escaping that is reminiscent of a Looney Tunes cartoon, but nevertheless is extremely entertaining.
All of the plays saw significant changes in terms of settings but still told the same story and carried the same sentiments of anger, love, jealousy and pure deviousness. The situations were all contextualised and made relevant to the audience, often poking fun at the showiness of the upper class and making the occasional biting political joke. Most of the time the minor characters outshone the major ones in their acting; Lal Mia and Kala Mia drew a lot more attention and laughs than the miser’s son and daughter, even though the lovelorn son did also cut an amusingly pathetic figure.
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