A week of shows by independent troupes at Al-Tali'a gives Nehad Selaiha hope for the future At last, the independent theatre movement, launched in 1990 with the first Free Theatre Festival, has won from the state theatre organisation the form of official recognition it had long coveted. In a welcome, though much delayed gesture, and after months of negotiations and hard bargaining with the representatives of the troupes (Tariq Sa'id, Abeer Ali and Amani Samir), Hani Metawe', the head of the theatre sector, decided to host seven of them at the two halls of Al-Tali'a for nine days (18 - 26 of this month) at the rate of two performances per group. This in itself would not have constituted a significant triumph; the troupes had used Al-Tali'a as well as the National next door for their second Free Theatre Festival in 1992 courtesy of the late Karam Metawe' (then head of the state theatre) and have since performed in other official cultural venues, notably Al-Hanager, which also funded some of their productions. On this occasion, however, a new, ground-breaking deal was struck with the state theatre. In Tunisia, the system devised by the government for supporting private theatre companies by purchasing a number of performance nights on a regular basis has been long practiced with enviable success. In Egypt, however, this admirable and fervently advocated model of cooperation between artists and the state was not deemed feasible by theatre officials and policy-makers. Too many rigid laws and statutes, they argued, impossible to change or bend, and their obstinate resistance bespoke a lot of suspicion and a secret, deep resentment of the very idea of independence. Hani Metawe', however, with the help of Intisar Abdel-Fattah (the artistic director and manager of Al-Tali'a) -- perhaps because both are artists and know the value of freedom -- have finally pulled it off, cutting through all the bureaucratic dead wood and musty cobwebs. Though the sum paid for each performance is a modest LE 2000, it is an unprecedented step and augurs well for the future. Now these troupes can feel truly professional, reviving productions on demand in exchange for hard cash and no strings attached. At last they can put behind them the ungracious superior/obsequious vicious syndrome, feel respected by the people in office and capable of negotiating their terms with them on equal footing as partners and equals. If money keeps coming in it can be invested in making new productions which hopefully will bring more money, keeping the production wheel running. Though many obstacles remain (finding a permanent base and some form of legal status are the most formidable at the moment), more than ever the independent troupes seem closer to realising the dream of establishing themselves as private, non-profit-making professional companies. The opening took place on 18 June and was a truly joyous occasion. All the troupes were there, even those that were not taking part in the event, and everyone looked positively radiant. Intisar Abdel-Fattah was everywhere, bursting with enthusiasm and greeting everyone. Was it because once upon a time he had his own independent theatre troupe (Al- Darabukka) before he was snapped up by the state theatre? Khaled Galal, the founder of the now defunct Liqa' (Encounter) troupe which opened the first Free Theatre Festival with Harold Pinter's Mountain Language 13 years ago, was also there. He is now the artistic director of both the state Youth Theatre and new Creativity Centre. Seeing him with Intisar gave me a momentary qualm. How many of these talented and rebellious young people can resist the temptation of office if it comes their way? How long can they guard their cherished independence and how many will end up joining the official ranks, toeing the line and nestling under the broad, protective wings of government? But whatever comes, at least for the moment, they have scored a small triumph and on that night Al-Tali'a seemed to capture something of its former splendour during Samir El- Asfouri's directorship when it really was home to avant-garde theatre. After a short speech in which Mohamed Abdel- Khaliq, the founder of the Theatre Atelier troupe, welcomed everybody and briefly outlined the history of the movement, the week was launched with a performance by the Light troupe. Fragments of Diamond was first performed at Al- Ghadd hall at the end of 1998 then revived for a two- week run at Al-Ghouri Cultural Palace in February 1999. Here, as in his previous productions -- Faust, Passers-by (to be revived in an updated version for The Second Independent Light Comedy Festival at Al-Hanager which opens 1 July) and Demi-Rebels -- director Tariq Sa'id, the founder of the troupe, pursued the same artistic strategy, preferring to construct his text collaboratively with the group from various sources through the method of collage rather than resort to a ready-made one. In his earlier Demi-Rebels, voted best production in the second Free Theatre Festival by both the public and the critics, he had strung together a number of short stories by Youssef Idris, using Farfour, the memorable hero of Idris's groundbreaking play Al-Farafeer (The Underlings) as a link, and padding the show with parodies of old movies, political caricature, popular songs and spicy topical allusions. In six short, finely-etched and fast- paced hilarious sketches, the zany Farfour was paraded in many guises and different settings, bringing into sharp, satirical focus many of the irking absurdities and contradictions of contemporary Egyptian life. In Fragments, which pointedly refers in the title to its style and mode of construction as if to forewarn the audience and forestall any criticism, theme-and- variation is the dominant structural principle and Anton Chekov is the narrative source. Sixteen of his short stories are picked out and deftly interwoven with many poems by Salah Jahine, together with a few songs and bedtime stories, both traditional and original. Like Chekov and Jahine, who both believed that art should stick close to life and ordinary people, that, as artists, their roles were mainly those of social chroniclers, Sa'id and his group used the stories and poems -- their farcical, anecdotal situations, vivid character-sketches and comic and tragic incidents -- to write, in the form of an animated, disarmingly simple strip cartoon, a dramatic chronicle of our times from the perspective of the poor and downtrodden. Though never mentioned by name the benign presence of these two great poets of life is felt strongly throughout as the fragments fall into place and both the characters and their audience are guided, in a subtle progression, towards a maturer, broader and more compassionate awareness of the suffering of ordinary humanity. The setting is Egypt today and the mode of dramatic representation openly theatrical. The actors (Magdi El-Siba'i, Ihab Subhi, Shahira Fo'ad, Haytham Amer, Abdel-Halim Abdel-Hamid, Nora Hemeida, Mina Athenaseus and Amani Samir) use their real names in the initial story-telling situation which is maintained throughout as the general frame of the dramatised episodes. The frame features Shahira Fo'ad -- a young actress with a lovely voice -- posing as an aged granny continuously harassed by incessant demands for stories from an insatiable brood of boisterous grandchildren. When she runs out of stock and begins to repeat the same old, fusty tales about sultans and princesses, the children are bored to tears and clamour for something more related to reality and the present. At first the aged lady who has been bred on fairy tales and knows no other feels insulted and goes in a huff. In desperation the kids try to make up new stories of their own (and this is when Chekov comes in) or look for others in the memoirs of their dead grandfather (and this is the cue for Salah Jahine). Slowly and reluctantly granny is drawn into the game and learns from the children how to relate to reality and use her imagination. The children too seem to undergo a change and grow wiser and sadder. One notes a gathering somberness halfway through the play and by the time we reach the end it has positively deepened into black. While the granny's silly stories and hackneyed tales are verbally rattled out, the ones taken from Chekov, regardless of the narrator, are consistently dramatised. As soon as one is launched, members of the group promptly get up to impersonate the characters and act out the narrative with the help of few simple props. True to the poor theatre style adopted by practically all independent theatre troupes in the spirit of making a virtue of necessity, Fragments uses minimal sets and costume changes. The stories and poems flow into each other and gently overlap without hindrance. A woolen cap, a shawl, a chair or an easel is enough to mark a change of character or location. The burden of make-believe falls squarely on the actors as they deftly skip among the fragments, guided by Sa'id's smooth movement patterns, intelligent scene-blocking and sensitive lighting-plan. Looking at first like a mass of haphazard, jumbled narratives (a calculated effect perhaps), upon reflection Fragments reveals its intricate design and the tremendous amount of work that went into it. The vast material collected by the Light core group was carefully sifted and divided into discrete narrative units. Each consists of a number of stories linked by one character, location, or both and so arranged as to spotlight, in a series of takes as it were, one or more of the negative, destructive aspects of life -- poverty, greed, oppression, exploitation, callousness, vanity, hypocrisy, deceit, stupidity or mere folly. The narrative blocks are interspersed and punctuated with pithy, humorous or emotionally- charged extracts from Jahine's poetry either to intensify their impact or herald a narrative transition or a change of mood. This intricate collage is carefully orchestrated to vary the rhythm and achieve a delicate balance between sympathy and satire, irony and compassion, the vulgar and tender, the farcically ridiculous and the painfully serious. Indeed, without this tonal variety and constant shifting of mood Fragments, which makes no claim to intellectual profundity or dialectical thought, could easily have slipped into sentimentality. The show successfully avoided this trap and the balance it achieves is one of which both Chekov and Jahine would have heartily approved.
