Play’s over. I rushed out immediately. And not just because of the freezing temperatures maintained by the air-conditioner. The play was horrid. And the director, who is supposed to be a big shot (and who produced it too) had decided to play the antagonist. Which reminded me of childhood gully cricket, where the kid who brought the bat and ball got to be the captain. And usually, this was the kid who couldn’t bat or bowl to save their life.
I won’t be writing a long review this time, except saying that I now know why Marathi stage actors are so well-respected outside their language theatre. Because the others look so amateurish in comparison that it boggles my naive mind how English theatre at, say, Prithvi makes money and Marathi theatre at, say, The Base makes none.
Of course, all I have is a sample size of one for English theatre. But if one single play could put you off a particular kind of theatre for some time, this would be it. Just. Cringe.
By the way, the lights were kick-ass. The person who did the lights deserves better. Maybe she should consider Marathi theatre.
