Ramayana is a sweeping epic about the plight of Rama, a disinherited Indian king who is banished to the wilderness where he must upend the world to rescue his bride from the clutches of a demon god. In the current adaptation of this tale by ACT Theatre, Rama’s lovesick predicament becomes the ultimate test of his noble, ethical upbringing. We are left wondering whether his quest to conquer the shrouded, man-eating Rakshasas will cost his humanity.
Audiences accustomed with South Asian and Southeast Asian religion or ancient Sanskrit literature will recognize dharma, the Brahman, ascetics, right action, anthropomorphic animals and gods of the Vedic and Hindu pantheon. But Ramayana also speaks to Western mythologies. The story contains echoes of King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone, Odysseus shooting an arrow through a dozen axe-heads, and Menelaus waging a protracted war on the city of Troy to reacquire his runaway bride. The climactic faceoff between Rama and Kumbakarna, a dragon-like monster, invokes parallels to Gilgamesh or Beowolf; and at the heart of this tale resides a familiar theological dilemma: Is Rama a mortal, an avatar of God or both?
The ACT design team imbues Ramayana with the magic and fantasy of an abstract Indian dream. The turquoise stage beautifully complements stone-white bamboo scaffolding, translucent cloth tabernacles, saffron tent wrappings and red-wicker puppetry (by Greg Carter) with jack o’ lantern eyes. The costume design (by Melanie Burgess) is superb. Notice the straw-frilled monkey army, the white-turbaned Viswamithra, the bark-covered forest dwellers and the regal attire of those at the final coronation. Lighting and sound design (Mary Louise Geiger and Brendan Patrick Hogan) have their distinguished moments as well, such as the fiery saturation when Hanuman sets the world ablaze and the bowel-born drums of the dark lord Ravana.
The choreography (Maureen Whiting) and co-direction (Shelia Daniels and Kurt Beattie) are inconsistent. A Bollywood-style dance scene comes out of nowhere in the first act, foreshadowing the fun of the entire production. Other innovative moments leave the audience anticipating how the actors will engage their surroundings. Collapsed translucent sheets represent the pinioned wings of the vulture Jatayu, hanging blue ropes symbolize the epiphytic vines of the forest, and discharged red streamers represent the mutilated face of the demoness Surpanakha. But these tableaus are restricted to only a few performers, and the potential energy of that first ensemble dance is never recaptured.
Rafael Untalan plays Rama with a superhuman Disney-style morality that underscores his unwavering righteousness. His steady, didactic voice anchors the adventure. Khanh Doan plays the conniving hunchback handmaiden and the underused heroine of Sita. She excels in her reunification with Rama, transcending his resilient stubbornness with soft compassion. The graceful movements of ensemble member Belle Wolf add a lyrical signature to the entire production. But the best roles are saved for Todd Jefferson Moore and Brandon O’Neill, whose clowning Court Attendant and Hanuman balance the sometimes heavy-handed morality of the dialogue.
Ramayana is an aesthetically beautiful adaptation of an ancient Indian epic with universal themes. The actors and designers have manifested a foreign cultural atmosphere where audiences can suspend their disbelief. This achievement shines an odd light on the bookends of the production, which feature a wide-eyed and innocent shirtless boy (Akhi Vadari) singing a cute rendition of a classical Indian song. He appears to be the only Indian actor in this almost-all white production, and he risks becoming an instrument of superficial cultural permission. The boy’s presence is a self-conscious reminder that some of these actors look more believable in the context than others.
Pictured above: Akhi Vadari (foreground) and John Farrage (background). Photo by Chris Bennion.