Arjun Raina is not only an exceptionally gifted
actor and experienced dancer but first
of all a charming and amusing entertainer.
And a chiseller. Subtly and purposefully
he abducts us to this insecure terrain
on which theatre’s magic farcically
exposes cultural realities and credos.
In fact, Indian Arjun Raina is far too
smart to lift a politically correct
index finger but still his solo ‘The
Magic hour’, which premiered in
Europe on Kampnagel’s summer-festival
Laokoon can somehow have a lasting effect
as a didactic play.
The
Magic Hour impressively reveals structures
and motives of the Indian dance Kathakali.
And the moment Arjun Raina declaims
Shakespeare from the middle of his body,
dressed in a resplendent dance costume,
accompanied by the stamping of his feet,
it really sounds like high class English
school. In England, Raina studied acting,
later in India he learned Kathakali.
Against the background of today’s
postcolonial India, traditions that
developed during the same time meet
on his stage. His ‘A Mid Summer
Night’s Dream’ leads us
into the forest of Kerala where Ape
God Hanuman cunningly blocks the way
of a donkey in search of flowers. Without
difficulty, Raina changes roles. Sometimes
a wink is enough for him to transform
himself from a warrior into a coquettish
woman. And then again he is Peter Pillai,
half British, half Indian, who wittily
inaugurates the audience into the hybrid
complexity of his art, he calls Khelkali.
His Othello is phenomenal. With outstretched
arm he stands, a scimitar in his hands,
and puts all his fury and jealousy in
a twitching corner of his mouth, hidden
under his half-mask, or in a wave that
goes through his pelvis. With this concentrated
reduction he succeeds in evoking a nonchalance
that passes for an exemplary counterpart
to today’s widespread coolness.
