Comedy of Errors in Dari Persian, directed by Corinne Jabber and performed by Roy-E-Sabs, Globe to Globe Festival, Thursday 31st May: Evening
حالا دست در
دست برویم نه
پشت به پشت
‘Let’s go hand in hand, not one before another.’
*Comments are reconstructed from memory and not recorded verbatim.
*’One of the paradoxes of doing a festival like this is that you end up asking people to tell their own story, and then have to tell them that they can’t do the play of their choice as somebody else is already doing it,’ said Tom Bird, the Globe to Globe festival director, at his talk at their Intercultural Shakespeare Symposium. ‘Another thing is, that you can’t second guess what play a particular company will feel allows them to tell the story that they want to tell. For example, we offered the Afghans a choice of history plays. We thought that they would find that a play about civil war really spoke to the Afghan experience… But they wouldn’t have it. “No, we want to do The Comedy of Errors”, they insisted!’
This until recently little-performed play thus became the Afghan offering, and the director of Roy-e-Sabs had certainly caught the Shakespeare zeitgeist as there have also been two or three high-profile British productions this year, including the National Theatre’s starring comedian-turned-Shakespearian actor, Lenny Henry, and Lucian Msamati, Propeller’s touring production, and the RSC.
From the India Times
I could see why the Afghan company wanted to do this farcical comedy, as it simultaneously flew in the face of preconceptions about ‘The Afghan experience’ whilst, in its darker moments (all three of them!) it still remained true to the realities of contemporary Afghan life . For example, singing, dancing, drinking and sexual innuendo (lots of seaside postcard innuendo) were all foregrounded and celebrated. The production opened in music, which is judged un-Islamic by certain, more Puritan schools of thought, and was banned by the Taliban. The women showed their hair, ironically only covering it as they headed offstage into the play’s ‘outdoors’. As for the kitchen maid, she was played by a bearded man in drag… All the characters had been renamed and the action was relocated to contemporary post-war Kabul. Yet the father Eshan (Egeon in the English) faced a very real death threat for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the two-sets of long-lost brothers had added significance in a nation where families are torn apart by war. As Andrew Dickson has noted in his Guardian review, even some of the funniest comic moments are ‘uncomfortable’. For instance, Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio, renamed as Arsalan of Samaqand and his servant Boston, arrived from Uzbekistan in western outfits and panama hats. Arsalan had expensive leather shoes and Boston sported designer trainers. They stopped to take photos of themselves on their digital cameras, posing with the ‘locals’: lying down on the stage, Boston put an arm around Groundling Laura. Then a shopkeeper helpfully suggested that they change their clothes into local garb if they didn’t want to get found out by the authorities. He handed them traditional ‘Perahan Tunban’, or baggy trousers and loose, long tunics, which men had to wear by law after the Taliban outlawed western clothes in the 1990s. However, instead of fearfully changing clothes, the two émigré sophisticates mocked the clothing first – could they both fit into one pair of trousers, for instance?! The shoes also became a motif throughout, hinting to the various players that all was not as it seemed. Suggested by looks alone, Sordoba was surprised that her husband, Arsalan of Kabul, should suddenly have such good taste in footwear, and Arsalan of Samaqand wondered why his servant would have swapped his trainers for a pair of battered old sandals. (You notice feet when you’re a Groundling).
Thus, mostly, this production was a hoot, in true Carry On style. Sordoba (Adrianna) pursued the bemused Arsalan of Samaqand with great energy: a younger and slimmer Hattie Jacques, she rubbed her calf up and down his leg whilst he tried to extricate himself. He was not quite Kenneth Williams, however, as he himself lustily pursued the prudish but ultimately willing Rodaba (Luciana).
Meanwhile, the real Arsalan of Kabul could bluster and rage as much as he liked, but he could not gain entry to his own house, the doors barred and bolted against him.
I say Carry On, but as the director was French, perhaps the flavour was equally that of Gallic farce. Several productions in this festival involved intercultural exchanges in the creative processes as well as in the audience reception of the shows.
- Image of the Courtesan temporarily removed.
The highlight for some young Afghans behind me was clearly the appearance of the Courtesan. Played by the same actress as Rodoba, she had swapped her shalwar kamiz for tight, tight jeans and a red leather jacket, and shimmied across the stage in her high-heeled boots. Whatever song she was singing (something about zum-zum-zum), the audience clearly knew it and joined in. As she left to uproarious applause, the young people shouted out ‘zum-zum-zum’ again, willing her to come back. She looked a little surprised, and then obligued.
Much of the comedy, as I have said, was farce and slapstick. Luce the kitchen maid was a pantomime dame rather than an original practices boy-player. Yet there were moments of extraordinary emotion as well. At the very end, in the chaos of the denouement, as all the identities are revealed and all the confusions are cleared up, one recognition stood out. The Abbess, who had been giving sanctuary to the Samaqands (it’s a long story – you’ll have to watch the play for yourself!) was standing centre stage in her long white robes. Eshan faced death, because he was rejected by his Kabul son, who he believed was his Samaqand son, and who didn’t recognise him. He looked up in despair, then met the Abbess’ eyes. Slowly, slowly they moved towards each other, reached out their arms to each other, then sat quietly on the floor amidst all the commotion as the audience realised that Eshan had found his wife and she realised that she had found her children, and every one realised that all would be well.
The blurb on the performance flyer announced that it wanted to show daily life as it is in the back streets of Kabul, and if this performance is to be believed, it is not so different from the goings-on in many back streets all over the world – early modern Italy, or post-modern London…
Yet that is only partly true. Roy-E-Sabs rehearsal premises in Kabul came under attack, the company had to rehearse in India, and on BBC Woman’s Hour, one of the actresses revealed how some in her community saw her as no better than a prostitute.
But to that, Roy-E-Sab say zum-zum-zum…
See more on this context in Stephen Purcell’s review on the Shakespeare’s Globe blog.
(c) Shakespeare’s Globe
Interview with cast members.