Chakkar Chalaye Ghanchakkar fails to rise above the perfection of grammar. By Team Viva
The Comedy of Errors has been one of Shakespeare’s most farcical and early comedies, not really one of his strengths, yet one that has been adapted most in our time because of its slapstick nature, situational comedy caused by mistaken identities and sheer physicality of action. Perhaps it is its populist appeal that prompted even a master like Gulzar to adapt it not only for film (we still remember Angoor) but for the stage too. The result: Chakkar Chalaye Ghanchakkar, directed by his one-time set consultant and director Salim Arif. It was staged at Kamani Auditorium over the weekend as a culmination of the Aadyam theatre festival.
The story is known to everybody by now. Twin brother duos, one born to a privileged merchant and the other recovered from a garbage dump, grow up together with the same names till they are torn asunder in a shipwreck. So we have two master-servant duos with identical looks and name tags living their lives in two separate parts of the globe. Till fate decrees one duo visits the hometown of the other duo and gets caught in a crossfire of mistaken identities and spousal confusion (one of the master-servant duos happens to be married). It all stems from Ashok’s pledge to his wife Sudha that he would not return home till he had secured the necklace he had promised her from the local jeweller. Sudha’s sister Tanu tries to intervene to prevent a domestic crisis but isn’t convincing enough for Ashok. So Sudha sends devoted servant Bahadur to track him down. The “visitor” Ashok and Bahadur, meanwhile come to town to do business with a suitcase full of cash. In trying to gauge the prospects of the town and getting around, they get flummoxed by the townspeople who know their “resident” Ashok and Bahadur. Even the wives and sister-in-law fail to make out the difference, locking the originals out and welcoming the lookalikes inside their homes. It’s a mad dash.
Why did Shakespeare write this, drawing on similar plot sources before himIJ Perhaps the only seriousness that can be attributed to it is his poking fun at feudal strictures and the superficiality of an appearance-conscious society that does not look within or even try to recognise the inner worth of the person with whom you’ve had a long-standing relationship.
First the strengths. One must credit Gulzarsaab for crunching up the play in just under two hours with an economy of dialogues, enough to convey the action and the reaction effectively. And considering Salim Arif has an eye for designing and props, the set was rather cinematic and patterned in a flow path that facilitated swift changes and sequences without taxing the two male protagonists and allowing for a time and space continuum. As an ensemble, the characters played on cue and had a perfect sense of timing, nobody really overtaking the thunder of the other, emotive and agile in a subtle and restrained manner. All shone in their bits. But that’s where it all ends really.
So where did it fall shortIJ In its overall takeaway. Yes, we did laugh at the gaffes on a Sunday evening, simply because they were being enacted live. But there was no aftertaste. The curtains dropped down on a rather abrupt ending and we did not remember what we liked most, a particular performance or the setpiece. It instantly vapourised. We felt hemmed in by the periodicity of the play; we felt we were on a retro night. Perhaps its context needed to be contemporised and some tools could be engaged to magnify the effect, particularly those situations caused by class differences. Perhaps, the director wanted to be conventional, simple and throwback.
That being the case, the comparisons will inevitably follow with the earlier film versions. We must admit that though competent actors in their own right, Zeeshan Ayub as Ashok and Swanand Kirkire as Bahadur failed to recreate the ease and chemistry between Sanjeev Kapoor and Deven Khote in Angoor. They just didn’t vibe smoothly enough. They even looked static in parts. And while Moushumi Chatterjee’s Sudha was loveable despite her idiocy, lubna Arif’s Sudha was downright whiny, seldom allowing the audience to feel for her. Shruti Seth had an easy breezy role that she carried off effortlessly, simply because it wasn’t demanding at all. The maid Prema, played by Sharmila Shinde, shone in parts. Also, the musical interludes and blackouts were perhaps too frequent and staccato. The show, however, is running to full houses wherever it is staged. But that is perhaps because there are very few avenues for good, clean fun. The old worldliness is also a comforting feel enough in a world of quicksilver changes. But one must not take recourse to easy logic. The crew can and should still challenge itself. Shakespeare himself has been timeless in his appeal and we wished the director had stepped out of his comfort zone of known precepts.