The independent theatre movement in Egypt, which started in the early 1990, went through many phases of ebb and flow, but the flowing current of new talent keeps generating fresh waves of creativity.
The Candle and Salt Shaker independent company lead by director Michael Tadrous is one of the newest Egyptian theatre groups that started making a splash in 2014 with their performances The City and Atlantis.
Between 6 and 8 August, the troupe performed their third play at the Jesuit Theatre in Cairo's downtown. This new adaptation of the classical Japanese story Rashomon is set in the Egyptian neighbourhood, El-Basateen, from which it draws its title.
Rashomon was originally written by Japanese author Ryūnosuke Akutagawa who wrote two short stories in 1915, also known as The Rashomon Gate, and In a Grove. These were the basis for Akira Kurosawa's internationally acclaimed, award-winning 1950 film Rashomon.
Soon after, this interesting story, which examines the truth through exploring different perspectives on the same event, found its way to the stage. American playwright Fay Kanin, with her husband Michael Kanin, wrote an adaptation of Kurosawa’s film, which ran on Broadway for six months in 1959 and was nominated for three Tony awards.
The Egyptian Rashomon
The current adaptation of Rashomon is a reworking of the American version of the play.
Veteran theatre actor and director Ihab Sobhy Egyptianized the Japanese story, not just in locale – moving it to the graveyards of El-Basateen, a financially underprivileged Cairo neighborhood – but also in the details, the characters, and their motivations.
Sobhy initially created this adaptation for a 2002 church theatre festival. The success of the production led to a longer run of performances after the festival.
“In the script, I resorted to a verse from the Bible 'The Truth I tell you' to anchor the idea that each person sees what he wants to see, and says what he wants to hear, but the ultimate truth stays with God,” Ihab Sobhy told Ahram Online.
Sobhy changed the character of the Buddhist priest to a Coptic priest serving in the rough area of El-Basateen, who is fed up with human brutality. After hearing the different accounts of the rape of the young woman and the murder of her husband he decides to return back to the seclusion of the monastery.
As the events of the play unfold, the priest changes his mind. Realizing that he is most needed with the people, who lie and sin and are full of frailty and humanity. The priest decides to stay in the rough neighborhood and serve God through being with the people.
Director Michael Tadrous was attracted to this text for its timeless quality, philosophical depth, and how it works in different cultures and situations. He felt the urgency to present El-Basateen to current Egyptian society.
“Now, many people assume that they own the ultimate truth and, believing they are right, they justify their actions, even killing others whom they believe to be wrong,” Tadrous explained to Ahram Online.
The basic idea of this play is four different retellings of one incident. The events of the rape and murder are told from the perspective of the thug, the raped wife, the murdered husband, and a passer-by, leaving the audience with complex layers of stories without one concluding truth. This opens up the notion that reality is colored by our perspective and emotions, and is often up for interpretation, as no one can know for sure what really happened.
From 12th century Japan to modern-day Cairo
After a short but successful run of the Egyptian version of Rashomon at Rawabet Theatre in February, Tadrous reworked the play for the Jesuit Theatre. One of the exciting elements of the Candle and Salt Shaker’s production of El-Basateen is the way the director made use of this small theatre space.
Tadrous rearranged the auditorium to open up the space for actors on both sides of the audience, as well as in the central aisle. This set up created more than just two physical acting areas. It allowed for a stronger sense of connection between the spectators and the three characters telling the story of the violent incident, as the three of them watch with the audience as the events unfold on the other side.
The basic set of five graveyards, designed by Mohamed Haroun, was well used by the four actors and their different perspectives of the incident.
Meanwhile, Christine Ishaaq’s lighting design helped in creating the shifting mood, allowing the audience to move seamlessly between the different versions of the story.
The excellent fight choreography and use of movement and slow motion were contrasted with the static dialogue on the other side of the theatre between the priest, the worker, and the gravedigger.
Each of the three actors involved in the incident had a unique set of acting challenges. They had to perform the same event in four different modes. Telling the story from the thug’s perspective shows him as the hero, and the woman succumbed to his virility and he conquered the husband.
The dead husband’s story, told through a medium, is highly contrasted with the wife’s story. She sees herself violated and raped by the brutal thug after a lot of resistance, while he sees her sharing her body willingly with her violator. The husband mocks her fake piety and refuses to fight the thug to defend her honor. The husband’s attitude creates humor, drawing some laughs from the audience.
The fact that a rape is at the heart of this story did not entice the adaptor or the director to explore the impact or the implications of such an event on women.
Directorially, choosing a voluptuous actress focused attention on the female body. The misogynistic comments peppered throughout the performance from different characters did not help to create sympathy for the woman who experienced a hideous act of violation.
The performance did not allow space for the impact or the emotional reality of the female protagonist to be explored. Though Nariman Abdoun has a powerful presence on stage, and a good command of her tools as an actor, the complexity of the emotions was bigger than her capacity or her vocal range. This led to less sympathy with the character’s plight, even as she told her own version of the events.
Rashomon did succeed in connecting with its audience, drawing them into El-Basateen by engulfing them in a bigger-than-life soundscape with haunting music.
This modern adaptation of a classic Japanese story effectively conveyed its main message: truth is relative, and there are as many realities as there are people.
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