JUST once in a while, the gods bestow a gift upon theatergoers: splendid theatre. Love Letters, written by American playwright A.R. Gurney and directed by Indian thespian Rahul da Cunha, was one such gift. Two actors reading from letters for over 80 minutes-how could that be brilliant theatre? They never once touched or even looked in the each other’s direction. Strange, but this didn’t matter at all. The chemistry between the actors, Rajit Kapur and Shernaz Patel, snapped and sizzled and they engaged the audience entirely, mind and heart. The script certainly helped. The implied is often more telling than the overt. In Love Letters, there are nuances of the unspoken and the unsaid that lift it above merely humorous entertainment. The letters in question are exchanged over 50 years between two soul mates who meet in Primary Two and hardly ever see each other again. Doomed to be forever part, they stay together through their letters. Through the letters we “see” them make their way through the teenage years into young adulthood and middle age. We see them grapple with the brickbats and bouquets of life. They are affectionate, bitchy, jealous, angry, disappointed, thrilled and, often, lost. Throughout, it is their love for each other, never quite acknowledged, that sustains them. Andrew Makepeace Ladd III (Rajit) and Melissa Gardner (Shernaz) are from similar upper middle class backgrounds - and that’s all they have in common. Andy is from a stable, secure family, Melissa from a dysfunctional one. Andy is uptight, deeply conservative and ever conscious about doing the right thing for family and country. Melissa is a free spirit, an artist whose volatile nature creates constant ups and down in her life. When Andy gets too smug, Melissa gleefully deflates his pomposity. When she appears too screwed up, too lost, it is Andy who provides an anchor. “Sometimes, I think I’d go stark raving mad if I didn’t have you to hold on to, “Melissa writes in the early days. Melissa swings between delight and bitchy observation then silence, especially as Andy meets the woman he wants to marry and it isn’t Melissa. He moves steadily up the career ladder, moving from Navy officer to lawyer and then senator. In the meantime, having survived a chaotic childhood made up of divorced parents, a boozing mother and a series of stays in “proper” schools, Melissa marries, divorces, becomes estranged from her children, fails in her quest to be a successful artist and begins an alcoholic downward spiral. Rajit as Andy glides smoothly in his transition from nervous, pimply schoolboy to the smooth politician. “Say nothing!” he demands of Melissa when the newspapers find out about their brief but deeply satisfying love affair, well into their middle age. Repressed when communicating in real life, Andy lives vicariously through his letters. Of the perfect wife, children and perfect career path, he says only to Melissa in his letters “It’s all pretence”. Shernaz is delight on stage, Melissa could easily have been interpreted as a stereotypical rich-little-poor-girl. But Shernaz gives her a different spin: making her wild and free, yet highly strung, desperately dancing on the edge of an abyss. Shernaz as Melissa is gamine, deeply appealing and acutely observant. When a date with Andy turns awkward, falling far below expectation, she explains, “We offer more in the letters than in person and therefore each looks over the shoulder “. Shernaz’s shift on stage from child to Lolita to member of the fast set and then broken down older woman is simply amazing. The music was a touch of genius. How does one show the passing of time on stage? In Love Letters, they used music. Bing Crosby, Elvis Presley, The Beatles and so on gave immediacy to the changing years. What a pity Love Letters only ran for two days.

A person of some wisdom once remarked, “Despite all the modern gadgetry and technology that this world has to offer, there’s still nothing quite as wonderful as one human being reaching out to another.” Perhaps no other modern play could have underlined this better than Gurney’s Love Letters, where we see just how vulnerable each of us really is to the desires that drive us, to the forces that influence us, and to the individuals that cherish us. It is a play that subtly throws into focus the obstinacy of man who, on the one hand, propels himself towards avarice and ambition, and on the other, pushes himself away from the bittersweet experiences of the heart. When Andrew Make peace Ladd 111 fist puts pen to paper, thanking Melissa Gardner for inviting him to her eighth birthday party, the letter bears a gawky awkwardness that endears the audience to the play’s two sole characters, whose presence fills stage with vibrancy and almost child-like simplicity. The stage is set from 1942, in a Chicago that symbolizes the earthiness of America. The country becomes an anchor for the two characters, who live their lives apart and yet are never separated. Vagabond Melissa, the rebel who craves the one emotion she is always denied, seeks out Andy. “the turd”, whose self-righteousness is a reflection of too much responsibility on too young a shoulder. Apart, they are two individuals with a mutual ache to belong. Together, they are friends, lovers and losers. Much credit goes to Rahul da Cunha, the fresh-faced Bombay director, with the temerity to take Gurney’s intensely rigid script, and give it direction and mood. Where there was to be a total absence of movement, da Cunha has breathed life into the roles played by seasoned stage artists, Rajit Kapur and Shernaz Patel. Where the stage directions decreed solemnity and strictly no props, da Cunha has introduced life-size cubes that double sometimes for a tombstone, sometimes for a wall, and sometimes for a coffin. Where Gurney insisted on silence and severity, da Cunha has bent the rules just enough to bring in the sounds of the times, from Simon & Garfunkel, Nat King Cole, and the Beatles, through to Phil Collins. What makes this production really special is the fact that it gives the written word its due. Our consumer world, which has made confidantes of the telephone and the fax machine, mercifully still counts the letter as the ultimate form of intimacy. In Lover Letters, though, the letters represent a bonding of over three decades that goes beyond the platonic… even beyond the intimate…to become an extension of the personalities of Melissa and Andrew, whose love is and yet can never be. Theirs is a relationship that sustains itself on paper. Whenever they do encounter each other, the mask always shields the fact. As Melissa once remarks, “I was looking for the person in the letters, and you’re just not him”. The script itself is a director’s delight, interspersed with humour, melancholy and tragedy. It moves from being delightfully cheeky (when Patel and Kapur are gawky pre-teens), through their tentative teens with the typical self consciousness of that age, maturing finally into a sad, compelling relationship between two adults, as they wheel and deal through marriage, alcoholism, divorce, and politics. Unlike drama that comes alive through the kaleidoscope of stage support, Love Letters has little production value. There are no elaborate sets, no fancy costumes, and only the bare minimum of props. A vacant stage is all there is, and it’s just as well, because Shernaz and Rajit’s is a performance that needs no distractions. The mood is further enhanced by the lighting provided by Sam Kerawala, which conveys a feel for the situation, without impinging on the action. Rajit Kapur’s rendition of Andrew Ladd, the obsessive achiever, who leans towards the prudent and pompous, brings out several nuances of the character, his ambition, and his reluctance to digress from social norm. All these compel him to bury his true emotions, his streaks of rebellion under comfortable paddings of success, his responsibility and his social commitment. Kapur has rarely failed himself as an actor, and last weekend’s performance was no exception. From the naive eight-year old, who looks upon Melissa as the “lost princess of Oz”, to the slightly arrogant, yet strangely vulnerable senator, to the sensitive human being in the final scene, where he admits at last, that life without Melissa cannot be. He creates a completely credible, human portrayal of Andrew, touching a chord in each us. But in so many ways, the accolades go to Shernaz Patel, who gives a mercurial performance as Melissa Gardner. She has a face that ages without ageing, and an innate sensitivity crucial to the role. As Melissa, she is the maverick, whose non-conformist tendencies and disdain for social etiquette lead to her ultimate destruction, as her sole anchor, Andrew, cannot summon the courage to take on society head-on and shatter all shackles of prescribed behaviour. The most endearing aspect of Love Letter, however, is its sensitivity and its exploration of a relationship that goes far beyond friendship; even beyond love. It is a partnership that nothing-not time, not marriage, not hatred- can destroy. It is a commitment many aspire to, but few achieve, for they are unwilling to pay the price for such intimacy. Clearly, Love Letters, brought to Dubai by Burjor Patel Productions, has given Rahul da Cunha enough rope to lasso in the admirers, who are bound to remember both the play and the players long after the curtain comes down.

A.R. Gurney’s “Love Letters” is about a man-woman relationship maintained over four decades, its course delineated solely through the reading of letters written by the pair to each other; letters which mirror their very soul. It would be hard to imagine a more dissimilar pair of lovers- the man, brought up in a solid tradition of middle class mores, eventually becoming a senator, while the woman, a wild and willful heiress with an unhappy childhood and a propensity for self-destruction, gradually develops into “a boozed up cynical old board “. The letters are used by the man as a filter for his emotions, and as a convenient way of avoiding direct contact, especially in an embarrassing situation. The woman, on the other hand, lives entirely in the realm of “feelings” and has no difficulty in expressing them, preferring the flesh-and-blood reality of actual contact to the safe but second hand solace of penmanship. The play is usually staged with the actor and actress seated at a table, reading their respective letters to the audience. Rahul da Cunha’s staging flouts the playwright’s instructions but is nonetheless cogent and compelling, using an entire range of dynamics in expression and movement with an overall “rightness” and a revelatory definition - though the end verges on being over sentimental. Shernaz Patel as Melissa Gardner and Rajit Kapur as Andrew Ladd “the turd” give probably the finest performance of their careers, as much contrasted in style as the characters are by nature. Kapur is the more controlled and “thought out” (though by no means stiff or turgid), enabling one to see through what is said, and unsaid, to the confused core of a man who is a victim of self-suppression. Patel is an immensely gifted instinctive actress, emoting with gut wrenching directness the trauma of a woman “dancing on the edge of an abyss”. Fali Unwala’s set is ingenious - its building blocks are constantly rearranged by the actors to create different objects or pieces of furniture; to punctuate dialogue or “fill in” transitions; and to make interpretative points. The music is also used brilliantly, chosen by the director himself and veteran Sarosh Bhabha, it comprises classics of popular music spanning the decades, performed by artistes such as Simon Garfunkel, Nat King Cole and the Beatles, commenting telling not only on the passage of time but on the emotional subtext - for example, “Bridge over Troubled water.” which prefaces Melissa’s first nervous breakdown and causes one to fight hard, to hold back the tears unsuccessfully. Indeed, the reader may assess the impact of this production by the fact that it impelled this critic to take a walk in the night air to regain his equilibrium. An original, insightful exposition of this modern masterpiece, it is a rare dramatic experience-intense, vital and immensely satisfying.

LOVE LETTERS, one would think, are always worth waiting for. For some more than others. And if the written word is your only bonding with the person of your dreams then that latter takes on an element not just of romantic prose, but of romance itself! Rahul da Cunha’s adaptation of dramatist A.R. Gurney’s “Love Letters” is a representation of this, showing how physical ties don’t necessarily make for lasting relationships, and how prophetic the winged letters can be when it comes to influencing lives. A deceptively simple script, there is virtually no movement in the play, and it is wholly performed by a man and a woman sitting at a table, reading out the letters they have written to each other over a period of 50 years. The script itself moves from being delightfully cheeky (when the two characters-played by Shernaz Patel and Rajit Kapur- are only young kids), through their tentative teens with typical gawky myself-consciousness of that age, maturing finally into a sad, yet charming relationship between two adults, as they wheel and deal through senatorship, marriage, divorce, alcoholism. In terms of production value, the dialogue compliments it well. There are no elaborate sets, no fancy costumes, props or other stage supports. A bare stage is all there is, populated with large coloured cubes, that are constantly re- arranged by the actors, forming different shapes to suit the situation and emotion being portrayed in a particular scene. The action is further enhanced by lighting, which conveys a feel for a situation, without impinging on the action. A play, however, varies from performance to performance, and like tennis, the honours pass from one to the other. And so it is with the two performers in “Love Letters”: Rajit Kapur rarely fails to turn in good performances, and this play is no exception to his record; from the naïve seven-year-old, who scrawls letter of thanks for a birthday party, to the slightly pompous, yet strangely vulnerable senator, to the sensitive human being in the final scene, he creates a completely credible, human portrayal of Andrew Ladd, touching a chord in each of us. But the show-stealer in so many ways is bubbly Shernaz Patel, who gives a mercurial performance as Melissa Gardner. Always a sensitive actress, she has a mobile face that she uses to full effect in the play. She is credible, expressive, derisive, and candid. She flirts, seduces, ages, saddens, and becomes an alcoholic and her rendering of the sparse dialogue moves one as she struggles through her mistakes in life. “Love Letters” is a production that doesn’t come round often. And at least one viewing is definitely recommended.

The lights dimmed. The melody of Simon and Garfunkel’s soulful track ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ drifted within the auditorium. Melissa hadn’t replied to Andy for quite sometime. Something could have gone wrong. What was it? The man sought the answer through his letters. He waited anxiously. Time stood still, for the actor as well as the audience. Directed by Rahul da Cunha and staged at the Nehru Memorial Hall as part of The Times of India’s Pune Festival, it was easy to see why ‘Love Letters’ continues to be a favourite with diehard theatre lovers. Rajit Kapur (Andrew) and Shernaz Patel (Melissa) held everyone spellbound with their exemplary histrionic skills. The literary child of a sensitive soul, the unusual format of ‘Love Letters’ had the viewers in absolute awe. The play is written in the epistolary form—a format in which a narrative reveals itself through documents –to tell a story. As the protagonists read the letters, the inter-connected journey of their physically distanced lives slowly unfolds. When Melissa while telling the story of her life, chirped as a young girl, “I don’t believe in going steady. It is not my religion,” the audiences laughed and laughed. But when she, down and out as a middle-aged woman, spoke of her ‘boozed out’ state of mind, the audiences turned compassionate. Moments, and fantastic chemistry between the two actors, seemed to control the reactions of those who watched the play. It was alchemy in motion alright. Old friends in real life and old friends onstage, Kapur and Patel manifested the power of explained…and unexplained…emotions experienced by both between the age of six and 60. Childhood, marriage, kids, divorce: the actors as characters travelled through their lives together, casting a spell on the audience who accompanied them till the end. As the play grew old-along with actors-it was easy to see why the playwright had opted for this form to tell the story . On stage, the actors had indirect interaction. But the impact on the audiences was as direct as it could get. Sprinkled with humourous lines-particularly at the outset---it was impossible to tame one’s laughter when Andy complained, “You hardly let me kiss even after we had cocoa at he Rector’s.” Proud of her wealth, and some sort of a brat, Melissa revealed her hyperactive self when she shocked him by saying, “You are like a friend. You are like a brother.” While the humour of the play was the driving force, the exceptional performances of both Kapur and Patel is what took it to a very special level. An entire gamut of emotions was expressed with consummate ease. When the penultimate scene had Melissa speaking moments before her death, it was difficult not to have a heavy heart. The heart became heavier when Kapur, playing an old man, held a rose and mourned her demise in front of cross. The end of Melissa’s life. The end of the play. God bless the actors.

It’s hard to find fault with Love Letters, which has returned to the stage after an intermission. Based on A.R.Gurney’s witty and poignant script, Love Letters, is a bittersweet journey that maps 50 years of the relationship between childhood friends Melissa Gardner (Shernaz Patel) and Andrew Makepiece Ladd 111 (Rajit Kapur) – two people who are meant for each other, but are kept apart both by circumstance and their egos. The play is narrated through letters that are read aloud, and though the tragic ending is a foregone conclusion, Gurney’s clever sense of humour and Rahul da Cunha’s direction remove any hint of schmaltz. The free-spirited Melissa comes from a wealthy, but dysfunctional family. Naughty and adventurous, she drives Andrew mad with jealousy with accounts of her experiences with boys. For all her glibness, Melissa is a poor rich girl who hates going home to her alcoholic mother. Andrew comes from a less rich but close knit family. He diligently works his way through school and college to become a senator, and when he talks about his girlfriends, it’s Melissa’s turn to be jealous. The sets are minimal – the only props used are a couple of blocks that the actors constantly rearrange. Kapur and Patel share an incredible chemistry on stage and seamlessly slip under the skin of their characters. While Kapur effectively changes from gawky adolescent to confidant adult, Patel is exceptional, and captures the essence of the complex character that is Melissa. She’s a woman struggling to find meaning in life; who loses some of her self-assurance as she grows older; who is ravaged by alcoholism and depression; who becomes more and more like the mother she despised.