Only three of nearly thirty productions in Nandikar’s National Theatre Festival came from outside Bengal, excluding Shekhar Sen’s Kabir (which has already toured here), and caused by regrettably depleted funding. Two of them happened to present mainly non-dialogic animal fables, providing ample scope for comparison with a third, local, school production.
The late Heisnam Kanhailal’s Pebet (Kalakshetra, Imphal, 1975) ranks among his finest, surprisingly not seen in Kolkata so far. He transformed the Manipuri folktale about the tiny Pebet bird and her chicks hunted by a cat into a contemporary anthropomorphic classic of political resistance against oppression and cultural indoctrination. Twenty years ago I had connected it to our own Tuntunir Boi, which originated in Mymensingh, belonging to the same contiguous folkloric lode of eastern India. With the iconic H. Sabitri as the mother and H. Tomba as the Hindu cat, and everything expressed through gestures, intonation and graceful choreography, Pebet stays as subtle yet sophisticated as ever. Non-Manipuris should adapt and revive this deceptively gentle parable in their own contexts.
Then we had the National School of Drama Theatre-in-Education Company’s Across the Sea. Scenarist-director Anurupa Roy, evidently inspired by the animovie Happy Feet, borrowed its one flawed ingredient – a penguin swimming the entire Antarctic Ocean to Australia – and made it more incredible: a baby penguin swept by currents to Africa, and returning in an upturned umbrella. Nature narratives have become so ecologically accurate that no child will believe such fantasy today. Why not simply feature African penguins, native to islands off South Africa? Nevertheless, Roy’s puppeteers manipulate the friendly beasts imaginatively, from huge elephants to a wonderfully scuttling crab.
The Lion King affords a charming panorama of the inclusive and holistic “circle of life”, which did not cease to move us in Future Hope’s hands even though Mahadevi Birla World Academy’s staging last year lives fresh in our memory. The director, Amlan Chaudhuri, involved as many of these first-generation English learners as possible, and employed live singing and music conducted by Maurice Menezes. The children amazed by their athleticism and discipline, topped by the crystalline vocals of the leading pair, Manish Thapa and Jhili Singh Yadav. Everyone’s performance instilled us with faith in the optimistic name of the school.
Back to Nandikar for another striking play, not about wildlife but a wild life: Satyabrata Rout’s Tumhārā Vincent (Rangakalpa, Hyderabad). Like many before him, Rout draws on Van Gogh for this biodrama, but makes it original through directorial vision. A self-confessed “failed” painter, he succeeds luminously in splashing a rainbow of riotous colours on his scenography and props to stunning effect, revivifying Vincent’s canvases in 3-D, and assembles talented actors from across India for a passionate portrayal true to the spirit of a troubled genius. The early years in the coalmines could do with some editing, while Rout’s retention of the accepted account of the ear mutilation keeps silent on the latest research suggesting that Gauguin did the deed. Local lad Shahid ur Rehman, even looking like Vincent, leaves an indelible signature on his unstable character. However, the misspelling of famous French artists’ names on the slides is unforgiveable.
(From The Telegraph, 30 December 2017)