What is the price of beauty?
Who owns beauty? How far would you go to obey orders? What is the ultimate price of friendship? Rajiv Joseph's thought-provoking and blackly comic play, Guards at the Taj, explores power, obediance, human curiosity and allegiance, beautifully directed by 2024’s recipient of the JMK Young Directors Award, Adam Karim.
In 1648, the final day of construction has begun on the Taj Mahal in Agra, the world's most beautiful monument. Imperial Guards Babur and Humayun are best friends, ordered to stand with their backs to the tantalising building. As they wait, they gossip about childhood memories, job protocol and speculate on seeing inside the Emperor's harem.
They have been ordered not to look at the building, but the urge to peek is just too strong, and the pair must face the disasterous consequences of both their lowly status and disobediance.
The Taj Mahal was built as a mausoleum for Shah Jahan's beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died in childbirth in 1631. Joseph's tale takes us through the legend (thankfully never proven) that upon completion, Jahan ordered that the 20,000 men who built the monument should have their hands cut off so they could never create something as beautiful again. Babur and Humayun are ordered to carry out with this gruesome task.
The play is primarily a study of male friendship and Usaamah Ibraheem Hussain and Maanuv Thiara have a lovely, easy chemistry as Babur and Humayun. It would not be a surprise to learn they have known each other for years, such is the credibility of their relationship. They gently banter about absurdist inventions, finding wry humour in their grim circumstances.
Hussain portrays Babur as more child-like, playful, talkative and excitable. His character's descent into enforced violence is difficult to watch and his pitiful lament that "I killed beauty" is painful to hear.
Thiara is more grounded as the dutiful Humayun, focused on doing his job correctly so he can prove his authoritarian father wrong. There is one particularly moving scene where Thiara gently cleans drying blood from Hussain's face and body, cradling and singing to him like a child. It is simple, but beautiful.
The immense presence of the Taj is a challenge to create in any theatre, but particularly in the diminutive Orange Tree Theatre. Roisin Jenner's design sensibly avoids any imagery, relying on Elliot Griggs' evocative lighting to convey the overwhelming beauty of the building. An octagonal stone structure sits with a tall wooden pole at its centre, down which blood pours from the ceiling to run in rivulets across the floor. It is stark and highly effective.
Niraj Chag's composition and Xana's sound design also add hugely to the atmosphere of the production, particularly in the dungeon setting, with its water drips echoing alongside hauntingly muffled screams from the hidden depths.
Jamie Lloyd (yes that one) directed this play at the Bush Theatre back in 2017 and it's certainly one that benefits from the intimacy of a space such as the Orange Tree. Karim's direction is thoughtful and clever, keeping the pace of the dialogue going, as well as the movement of the actors, so there are no blocking issues. It is a well-crafted production that jumps from genuine comedy, to the presence of horrifying violence fluidly. The only minor gripe is the ending, which leaves the story feeling a little unfinished.
A moving, unusual and funny production: Guards at the Taj is another example of why the Orange Tree Theatre is such a dynamic and excting venue.
Read our guest blog from JMK Award-winner Adam Karim on directing Guards at the Taj here.
Guards at the Taj runs at the Orange Tree Theatre until 16 November
Photo Credits: Lidia Crisafulli
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