Lovers Are Not People

  • Home

LOVERS ARE NOT PEOPLE

Staged at a Supper Theatre, 

TAJ Cormandel. Hotel.
Adapted from his novel Directed by Miriam Guichard (Madras Players)

If there’s any one theme that the performing arts, particularly cinema and theatre have dwelt on, it’s that most human of all situations -the love triangle. The theme has often been used as a dissecting table for human emotions, the kind that bares the inner worlds of its protagonists tearing down their facades. It is a relief when one is given a glimpse of the lighter side of this theme.
        Precisely what the Madras Players and Company tried to achieve in their supper-theatre-premiere of Lovers are Not people. A romantic comedy by Timeri N. Murari, the plot revolved around the life of Shelley Warwick, an abandoned wife in search of her husband. Her search leads her to New York, where she discovers her husband in the throes of a live in relationship with Candice Schrafft a young interior decorator. Circumstances will that Schrafft be called in to decorate Shelley’s apartment leading to the first of the plays lighter moments. Shelley plots moves when she uses mutual friend Anne to invite the pair for dinner. In the meantime, Shelley unexpectedly bumps into ex-flame Chapman Bill. Seeing a possible trump card, she invites him too for the evening. The evening opens to incredulous-.surprise and perhaps even horror as the estranged husband and wife meet. Suddenly the atmosphere is filled with tension, an undercurrent of unease. Despite the seemingly tense moments, the plot begins to pick up.

Murari’s crisp, yet thought provoking dialogues sparkle in these portions as the characters wrestle their way through hilarious situations. Amidst this cauldron of seething human emotion, Anne makes a hasty exit with lover Gary. The reason? She’s just remembered her father is having a bypass surgery the very evening! All’s well that simmers well. And in the end: Shelley is reunited with her husband David, and Candice pairs up with Chapman Bill. Lovers are not People, directed by Miriam E Guichard, Director, USIS, Madras, was premiered at the Taj Coramandel with a six member Indo- American cast. A truly delightful evening, for those present. ASIDE.

Timeri Murari, Madras’ very own story teller, who made the best-seller list, is a very good read and “Lovers Are Not People” his novel of 1977 is more than just a romantic comedy. It offers a thoroughly feminine point of view of marriage and husbands and love and lovers, It inquires into the stakes involved and seeks out modus operandi plucky enough to rehabilitate incorrigible and refractory husbands.
        Murari makes romance seem -well, almost acceptable.
        Eighteen years ago David walked up to the middle class, intellectually snobbish Shelley. “I fancy you luv” he said, “come and dance” and he added, “I’m going to have you for a wife …, Well, if I took out a bird from my own class, married her and had kids, by the time I reached forty and rich, I’d divorce her and marry someone like you.” When he turned forty he disappeared with a young female. Shelley mourned the loss. Then she got behind the wheel to get David back, with the “same egotistical force with which he’d claimed her” -after all, he had become her habit, her comfort and her friend. She apprehended the extent of woman power .
        The supper theatre, directed by Miriam Guichard and presented by the Madras Players at the Taj Coromandel Hotel was a drastically telescoped version of this engaging book and was scripted by Murari. The play begins and ends in an apartment that Shelley rented in New York, as part of the ploy to retrieve her husband. She gets Candice , David’s young female to do up the place, becomes her good friend, throws a housewarming party to which Candice brings David. David returns to his “old habit”, and Chapman, Shelley’s newly bumped into lover from the past, takes on Candice.
        The play tried to compress the whole novel into a single hour. Necessarily the characters had to be built and developed in a short while. Only P. C. Ramakrishna came close to answering the demands made by the play. Perhaps one more scene and a few more minutes to the play might have made it easier for the cast. The early scenes which were uncomfortably brief might have compounded the problem (at times it ran like a screenplay) as did the moves which were restricted to constant pacing and played almost totally downstage. The stage design was spacious and impeccable with its three doors and a balcony, but was somewhat overpowering in an already heavy room. The costumes were trendy and colourful. The play was wonderfully intriguing with nice possibilities.
On the other hand when a group of people who are not necessarily theatre oriented come together for the cause of raising money for the Cheshire Homes (Madras) the relevance of theatre and its lofty objectives gives way to an evening of entertainment. The play operated successfully on that level. The audience, for what it’s worth, if one goes by the laughs and giggles were certainly entertained -there was a delightful sense of pure titillation. Is that enough for people who are hopefully planning to go beyond complacency? Would it have been any less entertaining if the evening had operated at more than one level, establishing contact, seeking out a beguiling manifesto held within the folds of the play? The carefully calculated moves of the successful wife was business strategy, sure and sophisticated! THE HINDU

         It is reassuring to find that theatregoers at Madras are being initiated into what might be called cocktail theatre, a fizzy aperitif served before dinner .
         The pivot of the evening was a play written by Timeri Murari, Madras’ own celebrity writer, who had adapted one of his novels, entitled, “Lovers are not people” for the stage.
Miriam Guichard, Director of the USIS, Madras had undertaken to direct the play. The cast was a mixed one of both Indians and Americans, veterans like P. C. Ramakrishna whose polished presence was enough to bring on the smiles, and first timers. The effect was like a martini, delightfully entertaining. INDIAN EXPRESS.