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William O. Beeman
Theatre Journal, Volume 55, Number 2, May 2003, pp. 359-362 (Article)
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PERFORMANCE REVIEW
York stage is in fact a skillful movement between distress and amusement. At times losing her words and focus, Keener drifts into a meditative space, suggesting a void that cannot be articulated through the words of the script. Where Keener expertly evokes the complicated space of loss through her retreat from words, Edward Norton as Robbies brother, Pale, bursts onto the scene spewing forth a barrage of words that ll the space with an energetic vitality. Through his manic rants and scattered meditations on the state of society, the character attempts to displace or redirect a seething pain. With remarkable precision, Norton delivers lines that, while offering crass and humorous breaks from the somber tone of the play, deftly convey an unspoken anxiety around the death of his brother and what confronts him in this haunted space. During their rst meeting, Anna comforts Pale, holding him on the couch as he cries and complains of bodily pain that is the manifestation of his grief. In this moment of intimacy, Pale asserts, Im fucking grieving here and youre giving me a hardon. The sexual chemistry that brings Anna and Pale together reects an intimacy and longing conditioned by loss. Meeting in the wake of Robbies death, the two form a connection where desire emerges as each seeks contact with another person from Robbies life. While Anna is made painfully aware that she knows little of Robbies existence before coming to New York, Pale struggles to obtain an idea of Robbies life as an accomplished dancer. The encounter between these two offers both proximity and distance to the deceased as each confronts the parts of personal history that have been silenced, avoided, or made invisible in their interactions with Robbie. Intense sexual desire erupts into this difcult space. It is a longing that necessarily frustrates them even as their union fullls the need for contact with one another. Their desire for a connection, a force that compels these two because of, not in spite of, grief, offers a model of intimacy that speaks to the complicated ways in which many New Yorkers have come together in the face of great loss. Burn This originally premiered in 1987 at the height of AIDS activism, and Annas experience of Robbies funeral resonates deeply with the numerous accounts of funerals for gay men whose families did not acknowledge their homosexuality. The play, with its once-occupied bed as a marker of loss, implies an AIDS narrative, where two individuals negotiate intimacy in the wake of homosexual death. For many, all sexual intimacies and encounters are necessarily shaped by the absences precipi-
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tated by AIDS. The negotiation of bodily contact and the way individuals come to experience desire for one another have been deeply impacted by the traumatic effects of AIDS and its material and ephemeral presence in New York City. This revival of Burn This occurred during New York Citys rst annual remembrance of September 11, and the downtown setting of the play is in close proximity to Ground Zero. To suggest that the emotional drama of Burn This might speak to developing sexual intimacy in the wake of September 11, is not simply to replace one traumatic context for another in situating the production. Instead, the play offers a way to consider the manner in which multiple losses are inscribed in the material and emotional landscapes of New York and in turn take shape and fuel a desire for intimacy. Following a painful encounter, when Anna insists that Pale leave her apartment and never return, Keener pulls the sheets from her bed determined to remove Pales presence from her loft. At the end of the scene, her roommate has taken the ball of sheets from her as she decides to leave and go work in her studio. She halts, almost out the door, and quietly insists, Dont wash the sheets a line which does not appear in the original text. The sheets, with Pales smell and the trace of sex, represent a material marker for the intense relations that have occurred, registering not only Pale but also her lost friend, Robbie.
THE TAZIYEH OF HOR. THE TAZIYEH OF THE CHILDREN OF MOSLEM. THE TAZIYEH OF IMAM HUSSEIN. Traditional Iranian passion dramas, Lincoln Center Festival 2002. 1221 July 2002.
Taziyeh (which means mourning or consolation) is the only indigenous epic dramatic tradition in the Middle East. It has had a strong inuence on Western avant-garde theatre as a result of visits made by Peter Brook, Jerzy Grotowski and Robert Wilson, among others, to the Shiraz Festival of Arts in the mid-1970s, where Taziyeh was rst presented to an international audience. Peter Brook in particular was deeply affected by Taziyeh. At that time, the director of the current production, Mohammad Bagher Ghaffari, was a young actor and director. He had grown up in Neishabur
PERFORMANCE REVIEW
Ghaffari held the performers to very strict standards. In Iran, performers expand or contract their performance depending on the interest of the audience. If they are having a good performance, they interpolate vocal cadenzas, additional lines, and extended stage action ad libitum. Ghaffaris performances, altered to engage an audience of nonPersian speakers, were economical, precise and focused. They were completely true to the dramas as one would see them in Iran, but cleaner, leaner and more disciplined. His purist approach in doing this showed exquisite taste. The productions in New York were both completely true to the dramatic tradition, and yet added something new and unique. Ghaffaris Taziyeh productions would rarely be seen in Iran today though they would be welcomed there. Ghaffari refused to employ contemporary innovations. He would not allow his performers to use microphones, as has been common in recent years in Iran. He prevented his actors from employing television-inspired bathos in their death scenes and emotional encounters. He insisted on a traditional instrumental ensembledrums and trumpetsto accompany the action. His strictures were not only directed at his troupe. He was pressured by the Festival organizers to allow projected super-titles, a request he staunchly resisted. He insisted on general lighting with minimal special effects. All of this was designed to allow the audience to watch the pure form of the drama without distraction. Adequate, but sparse. program synopses informed the audience about both the stories of each of the dramas, and of some of the more overt staging conventions (e.g. antagonists wear red and declaim; protagonists wear green and sing). As a result, audience members were able to follow the course of the drama with little difculty, although with some loss of subtlety in language. The one thing Ghaffari could not recreate was the emotional Iranian audience, who would normally be participating in the drama through weeping, chanting and breast-beating. However, many members of the New York audience were visibly affected by the performances. Ghaffari employed a variety of mise en scne conventions in his Taziyeh production. All involve a central playing area with at least one entrance large enough to allow for the passage of horses, camels and sheep. Except for the poorest productions, Taziyeh always involves these animals. Ghaffari chose a staging in a round arena under a tent in Damrosch Park at the southwest corner of the Lincoln Center Complex. The action took place on an elevated round platform in the center of the arena. The tent was air conditioned for the comfort
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of the audience. However, the sound of the ventilation system caused some consternation as it covered some of the non-amplied voices of the performers. With circus-stadium seating, the sightlines were excellent for the entire audience. Acting in Taziyeh is highly stylized and gestures are spare. This contrasts with a fair amount of spectacle acting on horseback, swordplay and costume. The surprising strength of the emotional expression conveyed through these devices may be what prompts Ghaffaris enthusiasm for the artistic conventions of the theatre form. The Taziyeh of Hor tells the story of one of the generals of Yazid, the Umayyid Caliph who ordered Imam Husseins death. Hors son, Ali, realizes Husseins virtue, and switches sides, eventually dying in his defense. Alaeaddin Ghassemi presented Hor with dignity and passion. His soaring, beautiful tenor voice could have easily graced the Met. Ali, the twelve-year-old Mohammadreza Ghassemi, was a strong performer. His death scene was one of the high points of the evening. The villains, Shemr, the general who eventually kills Imam Hussein (Asadollah Momenzadeh Khoulenjani), Ibn Saad (his brother, Mahammadali Momenzadh Khoulenjani) and Ibn Ziad (Morteza Saffarianrezai) were suitably erce and threatening. Hassan Aliabassi Jazi portrays Imam Hussein in this production with a voice redolent with sweetness and power. In the culminating Taziyeh of Imam Hussein, he plays Husseins sister, Zeynab. The Taziyeh of the Children of Moslem is a comparative rarity. Moslem is the slain cousin of Imam Hussein. Real brothers Majid Aliabbasi Jazi and Kamal Aliabbasi Jazi play his orphaned sons, Ibrahim and Mohammad. Their father and uncle, Hassan Aliabbasi Jazi and Esmaeil Arean Jazi, are also in the troupe playing a Shepherd who nds and cares for the boys, and the Maid of Hares (see below) respectively. The children are discovered by the antagonists, and are turned out into the world. The comic general, Hares (seventy-year-old Morteza Saffarianrezai, in a wonderful portrayal), seeks the boys, not knowing that his own wife (Mahmood Moini) and maid have taken them in and are hiding them. The boys are moved from bed to bed in Haress home by his wife and maid, but are eventually discovered and killed. The comic scenes that precede them set off the pathos of their death. The Taziyeh of Imam Hussein is the culminating drama in the cycle of plays performed during the month of Moharram in Iran. It depicts the death of Imam Hussein himself, played with dignity and vocal beauty by Hassan Nargeskhani Deligani. The
SOUTH AFRICA: THE NATIONAL ARTS FESTIVAL. Grahamstown, South Africa. 28 June6 July 2002.
As an artist, to say that Apartheid was a terrible thing is to say nothingor at very least, to say nothing new. For decades, the plays of Athol Fugard, Zakes Mda, and many others have come out of the wilderness of oppression with vitally important stories. While these plays still resonate with the power of the suffering human voice, their edge of political immediacy has been dulled. The South African drama that pressed for change has succeeded, and has brought aboutat least in partits own demise. The question now is, when the protest drama of the Apartheid era is no longer needed, what will ll its theatrical vacuum? The National Arts Festival is a weeklong celebration of the performing, literary and pictorial arts held in a most unusual site: a small rural college town with few of the amenities familiar to audiences at major events in big cities. There is virtually no public transportation or taxi service, accommodations are simple, and restaurants are created just for the week; they blossom and die like strange owers, their candle-lit rooms open for just two weeks of the year. The Festival provides a wide variety of drama. South African plays written during the Apartheid era were in short supply at the Festival, with only a sparse, rough production of Athol Fugards Boesman and Lena representing the protest theatre that put South African drama on the map. A handful of the productions, such as Private Lives and King Lear, drew focus away from the political. A few new productions continued to wrestle with Apartheidera events; notably, Duma Kumalo performed the story of his trial as a member of the Sharpville Six, and Pieter-Dirk Uys skewered politicians in Foreign Aids. A disturbing street theatre production titled The Hungry actually celebrated the attack on the World Trade Center, including a parody of the image of falling bodies. An all-Black production thrust Tennessee Williamss American classic A Streetcar Named Desire awkwardly into a Soweto setting. The highlight of the Festival, however, was the premiere of John Kanis Nothing But the Truth. Like many of the plays by Athol Fugard in which John Kani performed during the Apartheid era, Nothing But the Truth, Kanis rst solo effort, premiered at this years Festival. The play takes place in the home of Sipho (John Kani), a Port Elizabeth assistant librarian approaching mandatory retirement, who lives with his daughter Thando (Dambisa Kente). Their house is modest and middle-class, by