Art of darkness

Zafar Karachiwala plays a jaded theatre critic in the adaptation of Irish playwright Conor McPherson’s St. Nicholas
Zafar Karachiwala in a scene from the play. (Photo | Express)
Zafar Karachiwala in a scene from the play. (Photo | Express)

The purest form of storytelling is someone narrating a tale. And when the narrator is an accomplished actor like Zafar Karachiwala, telling a story, which has all the elements—arrogance, jealousy, humour, love, loss and even horror—it is bound to make for an interesting experience. Last weekend, the National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA) in Mumbai premiered the Indian adaptation of Irish playwright Conor McPherson’s play, St. Nicholas. Directed by Bruce Guthrie, head of Theatre and Film at NCPA, the play recounts the story of a jaded theatre critic who, in his pursuit of love, falls into the clutches of a coven of vampires, only to find himself questioning everything, from his role as a critic to why we find it so difficult to find contentment.

Guthrie, who is familiar with McPherson’s works, says, “He has such a wonderful way of blending the supernatural with everyday life. It’s a beautiful piece of work—challenging and compelling.” Performed by Karachiwala with no other prop other than a chair, it is the intimacy provided by the stage and its proximity to the audience that makes this one-man play feel like you are his only audience. Right from when he utters his first words in darkness—“When I was a boy, I was afraid of the dark… What was there. And maybe one of the things I thought was there was vampires”—to when the spotlight falls on him to show him in a dishevelled suit, the actor grips you with the fascinating tale of his power-drunkenness and fall from grace.

“I had lots of what I thought was power because I was a theatre critic,” he tells the audience, eliciting laughs. As he talks about places such as Dublin and Kent, you realise that the adaptation retains the original setting. “We felt that the story should remain where it is set. We all watch television and film that is set elsewhere and we suspend our disbelief. We did not, however, want Zafar to do an Irish accent,” says Guthrie. It is in a performance such as this that light and sound make an impact. When the critic meets the beautiful young actor Helen for the first time—or any other time after that—there is a soft melody that plays in the background and a mist seems to hang in the air.

The stage is almost dark with hues of red when he meets the vampire William the first time, mistaking him for a large dog, while eerie music adds to the horror of what he is witnessing. “It was clear that the set would be minimal, but you need the lighting and sound to be evocative of classic gothic horror and romance, while being firmly based in the imagination and giving the audience enough to take them on this journey,” adds Guthrie, who gives a shoutout to movement director Rachel D’Souza and vocal coach Shernaz Patel, who played critical roles in fleshing out the protagonist’s inner, vocal and physical life.  

Karachiwala makes it difficult for the audience to be anything but completely riveted by his performance. He sweats booze, gets the runs, and is generally in the most pathetic space as the frustrated and loveless critic. Guthrie sums up his performance, “This character is an egotistical, misogynistic, narcissistic piece of work. He is also funny, charming, thoughtful and insightful. Zafar is an actor who is brave enough to be ugly. And that is compelling,” he states.

The play comes to an end with the critic attaining a sort of closure with his thoughts, which had been all over the place. Guthrie finds the final part of the play interesting, with the critic summing up what love is and how it translates to hope. “Someone being happy becomes something that is not to be envied, it is something to inspire. It is the embodiment of hope,” he says. If only more of us saw the world that way. 

The play will be staged on October 28 at G5A, Mumbai, 6 pm and 8.30 pm.

Related Stories

No stories found.
X
Indulgexpress
www.indulgexpress.com