Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | Friday Review | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

Poignant vignettes of family life

"... And Sunshine Follows the Rain", staged as part of Anglo-Scapes, shines in parts

PHOTO: R. RAGU

A `MEMORY PLAY' A scene from "... And Sunshine Follows the Rain"

The hesitant title bumps across a pause "... And Sunshine Follows the Rain." Dialogues skid through clichés ("Still waters run deep," "Rise and shine," "Move to greener pastures"). The music sighs and whimpers along. Under a chandelier quivering with rainbows, the Perambur dance hall recalls glories gone with the wind, even as spats crackle between.

No need for narrator (Iswar Srikumar) to explain that this is a "memory play", emotional, non-realistic. You saw it in the slow unfolding of the Anglo-Indian community's angst in free India. Once part of the master race under the British Raj, they are now left to grapple for footholds in crannies, dull and drab. The lucky ones emigrate to `whiter' realms in Britain, Canada or Australia.

Deserted by her husband, Amanda Wakefield struggles to make ends meet in now-hostile Madras. She longs to transform the grey life of low paid railway worker son Tom, and timid, cowering daughter Laura, whose physical defect cripples her self-confidence. Can Tom find a better job? Can Laura get married to a good Anglo Indian boy?

Pragmatic approach

It's an every day story. Despite wallowing in memories of tea parties and ballrooms, the mother displays the pragmatism of survival. The son drowns his dreams in drink, and at the pictures. The daughter shrinks from schoolroom and workspace, avoids the glare of day by looking at it through her coloured glass animals. When Tom invites colleague Jim for dinner as a prospective groom for Laura, the girl hides herself, only to be discovered by Jim under the moonlight. He had been her heartthrob in schooldays. Their `d'you remember' chat ends in a lingering kiss before Jim leaves to meet his fiancée. Eventually, Tom runs away to join the Navy. Laura finds she can stand on her own feet after all, and take care of her mother.

"The Glass Menagerie," on which the play is based, evokes pathos as intense as Tennessee Williams could make it. But the title change in The Madras Players and Moonoverstillwater production reminds us that "...And Sunshine... '' is part of the fortnight-long Anglo-Scapes, a celebration of Anglo-Indian existence. Scriptwriter Harry MacLure knows that out-of-sight sunshine above the clouds is as real as the pouring rain. He infuses the text with authentic images from his community, despite some lines — especially in narration — that seem somewhat turgid in the transposed context.

It is easier to stage a Hamlet than a Cherry Orchard. Director Rajiv Krishnan's achievement is to have dared to choose a play demanding fragile nuances, and painting pathos without self pity. He does this by relying on group choreography, lights and score, as on the word, trying to make an extended waltz out of the play. Humour, brightened by an empathetic expressiveness by the actors themselves, keeps melodrama at bay. Nor did they go overboard with farce and caricature, a pitfall in non-realistic representations. Mischief enlivens the sad and glad vignettes of family life. Whimsy is another winsome element, aided by nostalgic music (Crystal Groove) and romantic lighting (M. Natesh).

The challenge for the team was to have opted for multiple representation in mother (Kaveri Lalchand, Rashmi Devadasan), daughter (Madhavi Sahu, P. C. Malavika), friend (Anshumani Ruddra, Srikrishna Dayal), and three sons (Asim Sharma, Iswar Srikumar, Yog Japee). Beginning as a cluttered and mannered device, it grew on the viewer slowly, as the actors gained comfort in these doubled and tripled identities. Their dialogue began to mesh, creating a single character with a well-rehearsed conviction.

The device also lifted the production from the portrayal of a single nuclear family into an overview of a whole community. Eventually, as the play progressed through scenes of dormant fears, self deceptions, tender feelings, and direct action, more universal resonances came through on voice and string. Nor did the director shy away from silences, crucial to the moods.

The wheeling in of a `set box' with all the props (designed by Balaji Mohan, Kalpana Balaji), and the actors themselves handling the minimal set changes, grew into a play on illusion and reality. The costumes (Kaveri Lalchand) evoked wistfulness.

With so much thought going into group choreography, it was surprising that the scenes were mostly frontal, diminishing depth and dimensions. What one looks for in future shows is more tautening and editing on the whole, and muting in some parts, for greater performance strength.

The play will be staged at the Museum Theatre till July 9.

GOWRI RAMNARAYAN

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail