Hey Hero

IT WAS in 1975, while working With The Guardian, Manchester, that Tim(eri) Murari followed up an investigative story on the Liverpool street gangs, then at their worst, with the second of his 13 novels, “The New Savages”. Some years later, he scripted a play based on the novel, but by then the Liverpool scene had changed, and producers did not want a bit of the ugly past. So the script lay dormant ,for years, particularly as he had returned to India. Till Theatre-en, a new and young Madras theatre group, asked him for a play.
    In the Madras of today, the Madras of rival gangs, goondas and their dadas, ruthless policemen, rising crime rates and corruption, Murari saw the Liverpool he had investigated. And so he dusted up the play, changed the names, added local references and, hey, presto, there was “Hey, Hero”, staged recently as a “rehearsed performance” for an invited audience in Chetan Shah’s back garden.
    The shrill chatter of a party in a neighbour’s house, the whirring of air- conditioners in other neighbouring homes, and the whispers and the shuffling of the audience did not make listening easy, particularly with the young cast, but for an exception or two, unable to project their voices. More disappointing, the cast appeared unable to get into the spirit of brutality the play is soaked in, their attempts at punches and stabbings almost caricatures of violence. And when Murari left it to the cast to ‘improve’ on his script by spontaneously throwing in the Tamil argot and expletives of the street, he forgot how ‘propah’ conservative Madrasis can be.
    Despite the philosophical note it struck several times on the eternal ‘Who am I?’ question, “Hey, Hero” is a script that held this non-philosopher’s attention. But if, when Theatre-en next stages it in a theatre, the actors can get truly violent and really hurt each other physically – or at least make it seem so, by getting the help of a film fight director -and if they let themselves go with their language, particularly using snatches of that ever-so- eloquent Tamil of the street, we’d see a powerful performance. Murari should also think of offering it to the Tamil theatre; it would really come alive then. As an expat pointed out, it’s a play with a universal theme today and, with the shanty town language of whatever city it is staged in, it would be a powerful play anywhere. He was thinking of the Gorbles of Glasgow, and a slot in the next Edinburgh festival, maybe. S.Muthiah, The Hindu
    CHETAN SHAHS backyard sort of burst at the seams, with guests invited to the ‘rehearsed performance of Timeri Murari’s, play “Hey Hero’. Initially there were not too many questions, as to what a ‘rehearsed performance’ implied. When you piece it together, in linear form the story takes you to the local goonda chief Arjun, now in jail. Brother, Lakshman and girlfriend Vali idolize him and believe in all that he will do when he return, to protect them, to indulge them. Bala and Ramesh, also of the same gang, see this, as an opportunity to step into the Dada’s shoes. SP Inder, on his beat, hassles everyone on behalf of the police force. He waits for Arjun’s return, to kill him, because he believes Arjun violated his wife. (Truth is Ramesh did it pretending to be Arjun.) Kailash and his touts come by to score over the rival gang and establish territory. Arjun returns, but to everyone’s disappointment, a changed man. While in jail, he confronted the ultimate question, ‘Who am 1?’ He loses his sense of violence and revenge. His old friends and gang find the new equation unacceptable They need their hero back in action whether to serve him or to fight him.
    Inder turns his attention on Ramesh based on new evidence that the violator wore a steel watch. Lakshman dies in a gang skirmish. Taunted, Arjun returns to violence. Both he and Ramesh die and with them any hope of enlightenment. At a time when theatre has become an intellectual exercise of figuring out implications and symbolisms and when plot runs at many levels and different time frames, “Hey Hero” charmed with its directness and simplicity and the way it was unashamed to deal with basic human emotions which have become unfashionable.
    While Murari was spending time in the U.K., he noticed much media coverage on a very similar incident between rival gangs in Liverpool. He wrote the play as a casual response and didn’t quite work on it further. When this performance came up, he changed the names and some of the topical references and handed the script over to Martin Mathews and Ajit Chitturi who ‘conducted the performance.’ The script packs too much story and too many incidents into an hour of performance time. Perhaps that did not give the characters and situations adequate space to evolve and develop and show change or growth onstage. Sometimes the scenes jumped more in the style of a screenplay. The directors on the other hand seem to have gone into the production unmindful of any
of these problems. It moved at a slow pace and totally without energy- the one prerequisite in any effort that presents gangs and slums. Pluck and energy sustain that quarter of our society.
    It is not easy for an outsider to portray the delicate complexity of slum life without extensive research. However, Vivin Mathew as Kailash was impressive. Flickers of fire deep within him lit his eyes. Another part, rather well done was Vinu Varkey’s policeman. However his performance should have shown a lot more drive and aggression. Gangsters and thieves live constantly in anxiety, panic and on edge. The touch was missing. Though the criminals are supposed to be from the slums of Chennai, they flavoured more of Dharavi life. Also, what happened to the spark in the Arjun-Valli meeting? The scenes that came through for their tenderness and emotion and the closeness between siblings were the ones between Arjun (Ajit Chitturi) and Lakshman (Sendhil Kumar). In other places there were flashes of trauma from Chitturi but the process of the shift back to Dada was not evident.
    The heightened theatre activity in Chennai is most encouraging, but the smugness with which our groups approach theatre a performance is a little disappointing. When a performance group has invited an audience whether paying not, they have an obligation to put their best foot forward. The lines should reach “that deaf, old woman in the last row” in the audience. Then should be movement on stage and choreography that explains the director’s vision. There should be character delineation. Good timing, and the right pace are the outcome of commitment and very hard work. .’Hey Hero” does not deserve any more brickbats than anyone or anything else. (I must confess and perhaps even apologize that they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!) Chennai has abundant talent and generous patronage. The groups only need to go for it and push the envelope. Sometimes give the audience what they want. At other times show them the way. Elizabeth Roy, The Hindu.