There’s this folk story I once remembering having read. In it, a young boy asks his father what happiness is. The father, not being able to answer his son, tells him he should go and seek the answer from a wise King. The boy goes to the King and asks him what happiness is. The King being slightly busy tells the boy to take a walk around the castle, and while at it gives the boy a spoon with two drops of oil telling him not to spill the drops of oil. The boy carefully walks around, concentrating on not spilling the oil. When he gets back to the King, he is asked whether he enjoyed the grandeur and beauty of the castle and the gardens. Alas, having to concentrate on not dropping the oil the boy hadn’t seen anything. The king asks him to take another round while still making sure the oil isn’t spilt. This time, the boy enjoys the beauty of the castle at the same time concentrating on the oil. He comes back to the King who tells him that he’s found the answer to happiness. He tells the boy that a search for anything is futile, we must enjoy what is right in front of us while not forgetting those two drops of oil.

 

Why this winding tale about a boy and the search of something? Because it parallels the experiences of the characters and the audience have with the Red Sparrow. The play itself becomes a metaphor for a red sparrow (consequently, have you ever seen a red sparrow, I dare say you have, because it doesn’t exist!), the metaphor for a search of something that doesn’t exist but only in the minds, in the imagination of people. The play explores the play of an author (a play within a play), the name of his story is fittingly titled ‘Red Sparrow’. He holds certain Russian authors in high esteem and hijacks them and their characters who become the characters of his play, they are his ‘Rockstars’ as he calls them. From the beginning to the end, the play is a sequence of entertaining, yet confusing scenes that the audience tries maddeningly to fit into their grand scheme of things. Meaning is sought, but alas, there is no meaning, only a celebration of madness. There are certain clues about where the story may lead, but these are all enticing dead-ends, there is no end.

 

There is a Kafka who has transformed into the creature from his story ‘Metamorphosis’, there is Sonia and Raskolnikow from ‘Crime and Punishment’, there is Bukowski and Nirmal, a host of other characters, and of course, the director. The play makes use of lighting to intensify scenes of intrigue, noir, murder and promiscuity and timing to highlight certain fantastical elements in the play. Actors become props and the props often talk.There is an allusion to Douglas Adam’s ‘Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’s number 42, and this is where the audience is given some respite. The line that captures the essence of the play is when the author exclaims in frustration, ‘these are fragments of my imagination, mad as they may be, these are all I have, I do not have the Red Sparrow, if you want, you may play with these’, and he throws imaginary pieces of his imagination into the air.

 

It is a play after all (here I mean play as in to play and entertain oneself), one that plays with the minds of everybody involved. Having said the above, the play does leave the audience with one small, short understanding, a glimpse of an author’s life and the pressures they face to finish books commissioned by publishers. If publishers were sharks who are ultimately out to eat the fruits of an author’s labor, the play personifies this very thing resulting in the characters ‘Shark Publishers’. A nifty, witty message by the director.