"For Captive Audiences"
“Ripped from the headlines” is the way reviews often
characterize plays inspired by the political zeitgeist in the Middle East and
South Asia. Examples: DISGRACED, set
in New York but touching on Islamic extremism; the same author’s recent THE INVISIBLE HAND, about an American
prisoner of Pakistani terrorists; and the currently running THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS and SHESH YAK. The last two take place in
the United States but are preoccupied with Syria, the first dealing with the
near future, the second with events of the past.
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| From left: Zarif Kaibier, Laith Nakli. Photo: Sandra Coudert. |
Dorfman’s play, set in a Latin American country, tells
of a female political prisoner who was raped by one of her captors. Years
later, under a new regime, the rapist happens to visit her home; recognizing
him, she binds him so that she can get him to confess his guilt. For much of
the play, which also involves the woman’s husband, the rapist sits bound before
us during the interrogation.
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| Zarif Kabier, Laith Nakli. Photo: Sandra Coudert. |
In SHESH YAK we’re in the slightly shabby New York apartment (realistically designed by John McDermott and nicely lit by Peter West) of
Jameel (Zarif Kabier), a guy in his thirties whose mother keeps calling from
Syria to urge him to find a girl and get married. This may be intended to show
what a regular fellow Jameel, once a potential soccer star, really is. When the play begins he’s visited by the burly, middle-aged Haytham, a former karate champ, whose severe limp will later be cruelly exploited. Both
are Syrian émigrés and Jameel appears overwhelmed with pride to have Haytham, a
supporter of the Free Syrian Army, as his guest. Haytham, after all, is about
to appear on a TV panel discussion. Apart from its mention of things like the
Secret Police, the Syrian conflict is used mainly for context and isn’t the play’s
principal subject. In fact, SHESH YAK
assumes the audience is familiar with the politics and offers little expository
background. It’s almost as if the words “Assad” and “Islam” don’t exist (although an Islamic state and the Islamic Brotherhood are each referred to once).
The enthusiastic Jameel treats Haytham deferentially
but, after they begin playing backgammon, he slips his guest a mickey. When
Haytham comes to he’s bound and, occasionally, gagged, as the now threatening Jameel
questions him, often brutally (oh, that gimpy leg!). Now and then someone phones
Jameel, suggesting that what’s happening is part of a planned conspiracy, but
the situation remains ambiguous. Gradually, Haytham and the audience learn the
reason for Jameel’s animosity.
Shesh
Yak
(a reference to the numbers six and one on backgammon dice) runs for 80 minutes
but seems much longer because of its increasingly static nature, with Jameel circling
his prey as he leads up to his big reveal. Their chit-chat adds local color
about life in Syria, but offers little of great personal or political interest.
Meanwhile, Haytham must grimace in agony as his tormented tormentor torments
him; when Jameel’s revelation finally arrives, it’s nothing we might not
already have figured out for ourselves. The mildly surprising conclusion that
follows is about the only unpredictable thing on view.
SHESH YAK demands a sense of danger and suspense, but neither of its actors, for all their competence, is capable of
taking it to that level, and director Bruce McCarty hasn’t been able to inspire
anything approaching the necessary cat and mouse tension. It doesn’t take long
before you begin to feel almost as captive as Haytham.
Rattlestick
Players Theatre
224
Waverly Place, NYC
Through
February 22