Thoughts on Indian Ink

Last night I finally finally got back into a theater.  It seems like forever since I've seen a show (I guess it's only been a few weeks, but I go in for hyperbole).  Even though I've sworn to not buy tickets for awhile, I went on a TDF spree last week.  Three shows are coming up.  I rationalized it by thinking that I didn't really spend any money when my mom was here, since she always buys, and I didn't really spend any money during the Week of the Tooth Trauma, since I was sick and stoned most of the week and didn't eat or leave my house.  I figured I deserved some theater.  This may be it for awhile, though.  My new tooth is going to cost me a lot of money, out of pocket.  I applied to be a voter for a particular theater award group and hoped against hope they would choose me, not only because I love rewarding good work, but also because I could get to see more work.  For free.  But they rejected me, darn it.  I guess I'll just have to apply again next year.  Sorry, that's a lot of blah blah blah to report that there will probably be fewer theater reviews this coming season...

But getting back to last night - my night at the theater was simply wonderful - I got a ticket to the first preview performance of the revival of Tom Stoppard's Indian Ink.  I'm a huge fan of Tom Stoppard's work.  I just adore the way he combines the intellectual/political with the personal/emotional.  His characters are always so real and so rich; I'm always so sad when his plays are over because I won't get to spend any more time with these characters!  I miss them!  And his stories always play through my mind for days afterwards.  Stoppard is at the very tip top of my list of favorite contemporary playwrights.

I'd heard about Indian Ink for years, but I'll admit I've never read or seen it.  I've heard it described as one of Stoppard's more 'accessible' plays, which means little to me.  His other plays may be dizzyingly dense, but I didn't consider them inaccessible.  Perhaps that's just me.  I do think that Indian Ink is maybe gentler than some other of his plays.  Not that there is any less passion or intellect, but maybe because it takes place in London and India, there is a more, uh, polite quality.  Well, a surface of politeness.  Ugh.  I can't quite express what I mean.  Moving on.

Indian Ink is set in two time periods, in 1930s India and then in England and India in the 1980s.  It deals with a poet, Flora Crewe, who went to India in 1930 for her health.  Much of the dialogue comes from letters she sent to her younger sister, but we also see scenes that illuminate those letters.  The scenes in the 1980s deal with an academic writing a book on Flora Crewe and he turns to her sister, now in her late 70s, to fill in some blanks for him.  The play moves back and forth in time, and sometimes the two time periods start to meld when the things being described are being performed in front of us.  And the way history often gets things wrong, that's also a lovely aspect of the play.  There are conversations about life and death, art, passion, the Indian views on British Imperialism, and how to bridge the gap between what you want and what you think you can have.  How to have passion for the right things (or people).  This is all really rich, rewarding stuff.

I won't say much about the production itself, since it will undoubtedly grow and change throughout its preview period, but I seriously loved loved loved every minute of Indian Ink and I'm already dying to go back.  And there are quite a few minutes to love - the show currently clocks in at a shade under three hours.  But the time flew by for me, I was so enraptured by these people and their relationships.  I was on the edge of my seat all night, wondering what came next.  So much of the play is ruefully funny, so I was on the verge of tears while I laughed.  I love that feeling. That's the sign of a great play, yes?

All of the actors were superb, with Rosemary Harris as first among equals.  I saw her in an early preview of Athol Fugard's The Road to Mecca a few years ago and she had some struggles with her lines that night.  There was no such problem last night.  She was spot on and so enchanting.  Her prickliness with the stuffy academic juxtaposed with the affection she grew to have for a young artist - first rate.  She has many ups and downs to play and does them all wonderfully.  She is really a theatrical treasure, and like the late Elaine Stritch, she seems to be lit from within.  A true stage creature.

I was also very taken by Firdous Bamji, who plays an artist in 1930's India who meets Flora Crewe, wants to paint her and strikes up a lovely, idiosyncratic relationship with her.  They each give each other something so important - you think you know where things are going, but they always took a clever turn.  I was kept guessing throughout, and to have things happen for different reasons than the ones imagined by the stuffy academic was really terrific.  Things are never as they seem and I loved that.  Bamji was just charming and warm and completely original.  The conversations his character had with Flora Crewe were so lovely and I just wanted them to go on and on.  I will definitely keep my radar on him in the future.

For a first preview, the show went remarkably smoothly.  There might've been a couple of missed sound cues (the music/sound design by Dan Moses Schreier is fantastic) and I think there was an issue with a scenic cue towards the end of the play, but all of that will get smoothed out and nothing came close to hampering my enjoyment of the play.  I really did love it and cross my fingers that I can find a way to see it again further on into the run.  Now that I know WHAT happens, it would be a treat to go back and observe HOW it happens.

photo credit: Alex Goodlett, Getty Images

Oh, and a special treat, Tom Stoppard was sitting a few rows behind me!  It was thrilling to see him and he was quite generous with his time, chatting with everyone who stopped to say hello.  I probably should've stopped, too, but I was anxious to get home and catch some tennis.  Thankfully, my Roger pulled through a very tough match at the US Open last night.  I kept thinking, please, Roger, WIN, haven't I suffered enough lately?  :)