To be or not to be
I had the opportunity of attending a couple of plays at the Prithvi Theatre Festival that was held in my city last week. It was an interesting experience. Something that led to a mixture of emotions: awe, amusement, bewilderment, boredom, constipation (ok..i couldn’t think of anything from c ..sorry).
The first evening had two short plays in Chattisgarhi. They were held at the epicenter of culture in my city. And the intellectual-looking crowd was out in full force. The kurta clad men, the kohl-eyed women- all that is so integral to such an evening. The setting for the festival was perfect. The exhibition on Habib Tanvir’s Naya Theatre group- its members over the years and the various plays they have performed. The amphitheatre decorated with orange lamps. Everything seemed to belong. In the midst of this sat Shashi Kapoor- looking very much at home.
The plays, however, were a different story. They were rural. Meant to be performed in the midst of much less opulence. Under the sun, probably. I am not suggesting that they were not appreciated. They were applauded wholeheartedly. It just seemed as if the setting demanded a play of a different kind, the play demanded a different setting.
The second evening again had the very beautiful orange lamps. The masks. The posters. The crowd. This time it was another venue. A place that is filled with memories for my parents of cultural events they attended when they were physically young (at heart they are younger than I am). A cultural hub of the past. It was a lawn and minus the elegant architecture of the previous venue, a much better setting for the play which was semi-urban. But being a lawn there was no elevation. Hence, except for the first ten rows, no one could see a thing!!!! A lot of people left during the interval.
Inappropriate plays and a callous choice of venue. If Prithvi Theatre is about enjoying the experience that watching theatre is to so many of us, then I am afraid its short visit to my city was a disappointment.
The first evening had two short plays in Chattisgarhi. They were held at the epicenter of culture in my city. And the intellectual-looking crowd was out in full force. The kurta clad men, the kohl-eyed women- all that is so integral to such an evening. The setting for the festival was perfect. The exhibition on Habib Tanvir’s Naya Theatre group- its members over the years and the various plays they have performed. The amphitheatre decorated with orange lamps. Everything seemed to belong. In the midst of this sat Shashi Kapoor- looking very much at home.
The plays, however, were a different story. They were rural. Meant to be performed in the midst of much less opulence. Under the sun, probably. I am not suggesting that they were not appreciated. They were applauded wholeheartedly. It just seemed as if the setting demanded a play of a different kind, the play demanded a different setting.
The second evening again had the very beautiful orange lamps. The masks. The posters. The crowd. This time it was another venue. A place that is filled with memories for my parents of cultural events they attended when they were physically young (at heart they are younger than I am). A cultural hub of the past. It was a lawn and minus the elegant architecture of the previous venue, a much better setting for the play which was semi-urban. But being a lawn there was no elevation. Hence, except for the first ten rows, no one could see a thing!!!! A lot of people left during the interval.
Inappropriate plays and a callous choice of venue. If Prithvi Theatre is about enjoying the experience that watching theatre is to so many of us, then I am afraid its short visit to my city was a disappointment.
posted by Tipsy Topsy at
8:01 PM
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