Dhrama
At the center of the The Mahabharata, one of the Hindu holy books, is The Bhagavad Gita, an epic of enormous proportions. At the core of the Gita is a dialogue between Prince Arjuna and the god Krishna. Arjuna is expected to start a war to defend disputed land, but he hesitates. The god Krishna exhorts him to do his duty as a warrior and, finally, convinces him to attack.
A mythical dialogue is unlikely material for a stage
production, but playwright João Falcão has condensed it to an
arresting hour-long, two-actor play called Dhrama:
The Remarkable Dialogue Between Krishna and Arjuna. It presents the sort of
mutual attempt at persuasion that we find in Man and Superman. The production comes from Brazil, presented in
English. The production company is Tetris. The superb, masterful actors are
Luca Bianchi (Arjuna), and Livia De Bueno (Krishna) playing the god traditionally represented as a man.
The name Dhrama
is derived from the Sanskrit word dharma,
roughly translated as right behavior.
The stage is bare; the floor is covered with sand. Mr.
Bianchi and Ms. De Bueno enter slowly in dim blue light, looking like ghosts in
their pale, simple, ivory-colored costumes (designed by Paula Raia) that suggest the design we associate
with prints of Indian myths.
The performer’s movements are stylized and straightforward (the director of movement is Carlos Fittante).
Sometimes she stands with her legs turned out, her arms pointing in the same
direction, one arm across her chest, or sometimes with the familiar pose of
thumb touching third finger. His physical life is human but deliberate and precise as well.
His gesture when he places his head on her lap is simple and eloquent. In the
show’s most stunning image, the actors, one behind the other, create an image
of a four-armed god, with the light behind them.
The dialogue is lean and poetic; there are no long
speeches that might make the writing pretentious. It challenges our listening
skills. We need to pay rapt attention, but we’re never left behind. The
Brazilian accents present a problem for the listening audience, with all those L’s becoming W’s, but the obstacle is
largely overcome as we become accustomed to them.
The
translators weave in some archaic pronouns, sometimes using thou for you. The inconsistency, though, isn’t intrusive, and adds a stately
and lyrical quality. And, cleverly, there’s an
occasional laugh for a contrast.
Luca DeBiancho, the actor playing Arjuna, has
directed the show as well, and splendidly. He’s kept it flowing and
unpretentious, neither static nor with excess blocking.
Krishna, of course, prevails in the argument, and
persuades Arjuna to wage war even against his cousin. “If you allow others to
hurt you, she asks, “are you not hurting yourself?” She reminds him that he is
immortal, not his body, and that “Non-action does not exist.”
But the dialogue’s grandest moments are Krishna’s
references to him/herself: “I am everywhere–in all that departs, arrives… a god
as great as I.”
To the closing, reconciling kiss, Dhrama is resplendent.