LoveFilm? In a Post Office somewhere in the UK, is a wallet containing National Lampoon’s Animal House, just for me.
Amazon? Almost done with Lord Of The Flies. David Copperfield waits patiently.
FREEDOM
Right, I should probably tell you that I’m full of cider and day-old Margherita pizza right now, so perhaps that’ll influence how this review turns out. Hopefully, it stops me swearing because, well, I really want to swear.
Let’s get the formalities out of the way: the play is called Freedom, and it’s playing at the Arcola Theatre right now. I’ll try to explain the story: in Tajikistan, a farmer is in some trouble with some people. For reasons I couldn’t really work out, the farmer has to send his son Fariad to England, to find a Western woman to bring back to Tajikistan. By doing that, their problems will be sorted. So Fariad goes to London, finds a job in a chicken shop and falls for a Spaniard called Jennifer. Will Fariad obey his father’s wishes, or will the temptation of the Western world take over?
So that’s the story. It’s all about clashes of culture, and love, and whether following your own heart is more important than following your family’s wishes. All very nice topics and themes to base a play on. The problem is that the play in question was a trainwreck. Utter trainwreck.
The play moves between Tajikistan and London (with the stage split in two, and looking very impressive, actually), as we follow the paths of Fariad, Jennifer, and Fariad’s father Benham. That’s all well and good. What isn’t well or good is that the production is FULL of inconsistencies. So Fariad (Indranyl Singharay) is an innocent, naïve farmer’s boy being forced, more or less, to go to England. But once there, in no time, he learns to play the guitar, gets a job, has amazing English, and is absolutely amazing at seducing girls and dating. On the other side of the world is Benham (Rian Perle), the old man who has lived on the farm all his life and knows nothing else. But the old man can speak PERFECT English. How? And the reason for why Fariad has to find a Western woman to bring home is so loosely explained, I still don’t get it. We learn that the family is Christian, but pretending to be Muslim. Interesting, but that is never followed up on. There’s a mother too, who plays an extremely integral part at the end, but we never see her. So why should we care?
The only person who carries any sort of sympathy is the Spaniard, Jennifer (Rebeca Cobos). She is the one caught in the middle of this devious plot between father and son; the innocent victim who was simply too naïve. So, technically, she’s the one we root for; but, we only know two things about her: she’s Spanish, and she loves maths. That’s all. There is so little character development, that it’s impossible to care about her. The synopsis to the play suggests she is emotionally damaged; we do not see this at all. She is dumped at the beginning, yes, but that is not emotional damage. If anything, it’s played up for laughs. By the end of the play, in a ridiculously anti-climactic ending, I wasn’t really bothered what happened to any of them. It had become too complicated and convoluted to bother.
Sigh.
I don’t want to spend all my time slamming this play. There is good. The set design was fantastic, I think, really well done. The performances ranged from good to decent, but nobody really stood out. Frankly, I get the feeling that the cast were not putting all their effort in. As if they knew they were in a failing play, which is sad. What else? Umm….music, music was good.
Look, I didn’t enjoy this play. The friend I took with me did not enjoy this play. And judging from the hardly-concealed laughter of audience members around me, they didn’t enjoy it either. It’s sad, because nobody wants to see a bad play. Nobody wants to be part of a bad play.
And we were.
Sigh. So, that makes it two theatre shows I’ve reviewed, both of which I’ve given horrible reviews to. Third times a charm, maybe?
As I leave, ‘Linger’ by The Cranberries. Absolutely wonderful song, please give it a listen. Reminds me of lost times. Romantic, eh? Probably the cider. Follow me on Twitter, please (@writeofcentre), and follow this blog too, that would be great of you. Other than that, uh, well, I guess you can leave. Bye!
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