Discussing this production, both writer/performer Rouvan Silogix and director Rafeh Mahmud have commented on the diminishing “Western” interpretation of Rumi’s poetic texts. Placing the lyricism on a pedestal, it becomes too precious, diluting any of its anarchic or profane aspects. I’m not familiar enough with Rumi to fully understand the specifics, or even how well they succeed in dismantling this perception of him, but the sentiment certainly resonates with me—this impulse to bring “Masnavi” to us authentically, with existential angst, farcical antics and bawdy humour. Writers Silogix, Mahmud and Ahad Lakhan have crafted a text that blends ancient and modern references, fuses the mundane with the mystical.
The Caged Bird Sings, presented by Modern Times Stage Company and Theatre ARTaud, throws three desperate and aching characters into a prison that is both physical and metaphorical. There is Sal (Silogix), a watermelon smuggler, an alligator wrestler, a goofball—yet also an ancient king. With him are lovers Jin (Navtej Sandhu) and Rumi (Mikaela Lily Davies), they are scientists working on an intensely powerful love potion—but they, too, have atavistic ties to lore. The trio, we gather, are enemies of the state, their very personhood a threat to power; but their imprisonment is, on another level, self-imposed. It’s all very amorphous and abstracted. As they taunt, seduce, plead and lament; a series of interwoven stories play out, each with their own philosophical conundrums.
Scenic designer Waleed Ansari places a gilded cage between the trapped trio and the audience seated around them. The courtyard of the Aga Khan Museum becomes a sort of theatrical pit, with the sky looming above and voices echoing eerily. As day turns to night, the stage lights gradually saturate the space. Particularly scintillating is a radial pattern of colourful florescent tubes that flicker and strobe in hypnotic pulses.
There is a sense of structured ritual as the actors introduce each segment in triplicate. This is one of many Brechtian trappings that heighten our awareness of the form. There are a lot of histrionics and grand proclamations that feel a little hollow. On the whole, I found it hard to fully connect to. Of the three, Davies’ stood out to me as especially grounded and compelling—the most like a real person. That said, both Silogix and Sandhu have persuasive charms that shine through even some of the more deliberately contrived moments; he a tormented clown and she projecting a charged, ethereal aura.
My favourite episode involves a potion Sal offers Rumi to turn her heart to stone, free her from love’s unavoidable pain. The rich metaphysical stew of conflicting ideas at play in this sequence and the urgency with which it is conveyed sees the play at its most emotionally provocative.
It bounces energetically between cosmic musing and earthly groping. In concept, I appreciate this greatly. In execution, I felt too removed from the ache and vulnerability the piece so fervently wants to express; though there are mournful and yearning moments that really hit.
The Caged Bird Sings
running June 10 to 26, 2024
Aga Khan Museum, Courtyard (77 Wynford Drive)
running time: 80 to 90 minutes (no intermission)
Mikaela Lily Davies Navtej Sandhu in ‘The Caged Bird Sings’, Photo by Zeeshan Safdar