The Show Must Go On
Deep Are The Roots - Resalat Newspaper
If theatre is the mirror to society, relationships and the human condition, nothing could be more relevant than Arnaud d’Usseau & James Gow’s 1946 play Deep Are the Roots in light of recent racial tensions in North American society.
Deep Are the Roots, in three acts, was performed in the same year it was written on Broadway and directed by Elia Kazan. It was received with controversial reviews for its subject matter, still relevant today in the U.S.A.
Forty three years later and ten years after the Iranian revolution, the same play “Risheha Amighand” opened in Theatre Sangladj, Tehran, in Persian. I played the part of Nevi Langdon, the white teenage daughter of senator Langdon, who falls in love with the black house servant's son upon his return from Europe in military uniform. Their love, within the story, symbolizes the need for serious change in North America and everything that is wrong with racism.
While in 1946 Deep Are the Roots was controversial for its inherent subject matter, in 1989 Tehran it was for the actors’ costumes and attire. Since headscarves had become compulsory after the revolution, how could we possibly present a believable piece of theatre if we could not stay truthful to the period we were to represent and reproduce? How could we possibly achieve this without reproducing the appearance of American women in the 1940s? How could we possibly by-pass wearing headscarves? Could we achieve this at all?
The cast involved seven actors and four actresses. If we could use tailor-made costumes and authentic-looking wigs, the restrictions placed on us would not interfere with the recreation of a senator’s mansion in America’s Deep South.
After months of rehearsals and consultation with professional designers (such as the veteran makeup artist Maheen Meehan), the decision was taken to seek the approval of the authorities in order to be the first theatrical group to use wigs on stage after the 1979 revolution and therefore fulfill both purposes: keep the authorities happy and stay faithful to the original feel and look of the play.
To our surprise, this authorization was indeed granted shortly before opening night which was an exciting and a well-attended evening of theatre critics and industry professionals.
How far are you willing to go in the name of art?
The usual pre-show announcements were made (there were no cell phones at that time) including asking audience members not to take photographs.
During the scene pictured (the only photograph left of that production), a sensitive exchange between two sisters who might represent change and tolerance in society, I noticed a flash aimed at us. During intermission, I mentioned this backstage. We had noticed that a rather big and bright flash was going off during the show. We thought it was a theatre critic taking photos of opening night.
When acting becomes a risky affair
Day two was accompanied by the same excitement that is typical of a full production (actors getting ready in the green room, more fittings and adjustments post opening, flowers delivered backstage, etc.). I noticed a group had gathered in one of the green rooms, whispering. They didn’t want me to see. The flash I had noticed the night before was that of the photo that appeared the next morning in the conservative paper “resalat”. In it, along with the big black cross across our faces, the writer was warning people to “wake up and see what in the name of theatre was being served” to the people who had been “sacrificing martyrs for our sake and safety”. In “return”, we were parading on the sage looking like “whores” much like the ones from the Shah’s time.
Going on stage after this article was completely up to us. It was becoming a risky affair. We gathered, discussed, and decided to continue with the show.
The show must go on
To run or not to run? That is the question with which we were faced. Like a cliffhanger at the end of a bad soap opera.
Day twenty three had some more unexpected excitement in store for us. This time, a group of five thugs had shown up with cold weapons in the lobby with the intention to intimidate us and stop the show. The long-time theatre caretaker was the liaison between us, backstage, front-of-house, the box office and audience members. He warned us. We gathered again and, this time, female our director (Massi Taghipour) asked everyone to vote. The question was: Should we or should we not continue with the run? I was touched by some of the responses: that, though everyone was alright continuing the run at all costs, what if someone attacked one of us during the show? Would the rest of the cast keep quiet? Not interfere? React?
Curiously, all of our male cast members remarked that they could not picture themselves being indifferent should any one of us be under attack of any kind. Therefore, it was decided that, despite all the hard work and good intentions, faced with intimidation and threat, we should not go ahead with the production knowing that those who were threatening us were indeed in the lobby and had announced their presence and intentions.
Since I was routinely the youngest member of any cast in those days, in this production too, everyone seemed to be very protective of me and wanted to see me safe. Therefore, they had my guests -who had already arrived in the lobby- pick me up from the back alley connected to our stage door and take me away in their jeep before any announcements were made to a full house of eager audience members.
Sadly, the show was cancelled and tickets refunded.
Questions that still remain are:
What happens when authoritarian regimes have conflicted views on art?
What should an artist do under such circumstances? Stay and “fight” or leave the country?
How much should artists risk for their craft?
Does art truly flourish under oppression?
And, the biggest question that remains when you think of becoming an actor is: Are you an actor for a season or for a lifetime?
References: http://metropolitanplayhouse.org/essaydeeparetheroots
http://www.kazemhajirazad.net/index.php/theatre/871-risheha-amighand.html