Reviewed by Ewart Shaw, Thursday 13th May 2021.
Genesis 2:8 The Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east where he placed the man he had formed.
Close by, but several thousand years later, Uday, son of Sadam Hussein, diverted precious water to plant his own, filled with topiary animals. His mansion was filled with golden treasures, including his guns and his toilet seat, looted by the Americans.
Elsewhere, in the bombed-out ruins of Baghdad Zoo, the lions have run for freedom and been gunned down in the streets. The wily Tiger remains. He bites the hand that feeds him, leaving a GI mutilated, and the GI's mate shoots him. The tiger's ghost comes back to haunt the city, and the man who killed him.
That's the bleak milieu of
Rajiv Joseph's
Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo, directed by Nick Fagan, in this striking production from the Adelaide University
Theatre Guild in the Little Theatre. The playwright has set several men in the ruined but human creation of a devastated city. They have the knowledge of good and evil, but without the divine synoptic vision, they can only question, fumble, struggle.
Joseph's text is provocative, laced with humour that makes the shadows even deeper.
This tiger is not burning bright in the forests of the night. Captured, transported, caged, and killed, he burns with indignation. David Grybowski gets his claws into the title role. There's a quote in the program "When an atheist suddenly finds himself walking around after death, he has got some serious re-evaluating to do". This tiger is burning bright with questions for God, and Grybowski keeps you attentive to every word.
Adam Tuominen is, as expected, impressive as Tom, the soldier whose hand becomes a tiger treat, and there's humour in his discovery that jerking off with his artificial right hand just doesn't feel the same. Oliver de Rohan, his mate Kev, who kills the tiger with Uday's golden gun, really captures your attention as he collapses under the weight of conscience and commits suicide, mimicking Tom's injury, hacking off his hand.
Nigel Tripodi, is Musa, the interpreter who turns out to be the gardener, and it's a while before we discover his real name. He's called Habibi, approximately darling from the Arabic, by the patronising soldiers. He survives, even tempted by the ghost of Uday, Noah Fernandes' well-kempt incarnation. Musa even kills Tom, maybe an accident, using the golden gun, and Tom dies holding onto his loot, the golden toilet seat. It's just one of the many insightful images in the play.
As you'd expect about a play full of soldiers in an Arab country, the women's parts are just sketched in. Anita Zamberlan Canala, head shrouded, is a leper, and Nadia Talotta, is the prostitute who needs Musa to interpret for her what Tom actually wants her to do. There's a lot of spoken Arabic, but you'll get the context. There's one other female in the story. She's a little girl, killed in the street, her ghost befriended by the tiger who takes her to the magical garden. But where is the gardener? She'll wait until he comes.
There's the usual first-class lighting from Richard Parkhill, and a sound design of Arabic hip-hop from
Sean Smith. Tony Clancy's scenic design is topped by a garden of topiary beasts that I'm thinking are the work of Heather Jones. They look so good. The stage management and the set changes are really smooth, thanks to the discipline of Erik Strauts and his team.
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