It is the last day of the decisive battle of the Mahabharata. As storms sweep over the battlefield, it rains rocks, vultures circle in the sky and rivers flow in the wrong direction. These are ominous portents for the last struggle for succession to the throne of Kuru. In the decisive battle, it is finally the true king that is victorious. But at what price and in whose name is the war being fought here?
A young girl far away from home wakes up in the middle of the night. She has heard the sound of someone screaming. Perhaps, her aunt tells her, it was only an owl. But it isn’t an owl, and the girl’s life will never be the same again. Caryl Churchill’s brief but chilling play depicts a surreal world hurtling towards political and ecological catastrophe, a world where nothing can be trusted – not even the birds in the trees.
Being a director, it’s not very easy for me to collaborate with another director in the capacity of a scenographer. However, collaborating with Neelam Mansingh Chowdhry is different. I adore the clarity of her thoughts and the provocative critical positions that she courageously takes in her work. This I find extraordinary. Last year we did Bitter Fruit and now Naked Voices. Both plays are based on Saadat Hasan Manto’s works and performed by some brilliant actors from the National School of Drama.
A look at censorship woes faced by urban theatre in Mumbai in recent years. This article was filed in July, 2015.
In Chaitanya Tamhane’s National Award-winning film, Court, a throwaway comment about an obsolete sect by a defense lawyer (Vivek Gomber) during case proceedings results in him being assaulted by vigilantes outside an upscale Gujarati eatery, Chetana, in Kala Ghoda.
S/He is Nancy Joe doesn’t shy away from the prickly matter of transitioning. Scissors loom large, as the spectre of corrective surgery raises itself. At one point the backdrop is splattered with paint — the peeling off of dried paint evocative of the intense moulting Joe has to undergo every day, with little respite.
The glide of a violin in the corner, used so often for comic relief, sometimes uncovers the dint of a real emotion and similarly, straddling a thin line, The Glass Menagerie continues to grapple with its material in little rewarding ways that makes it a compulsive watch, flawed but poignant.