Without much sense of irony, “9 Parts of Desire” focuses on the lives of some women caught in Iraq at the time of Sadam Hussain’s fall. It aims, apparently, to give the audience a sense of the brutalization of individual lives in the tumult of a confused war. However, written by an American Iraqi, it was difficult for this viewer not to conclude in places that the piece was, essentially, veiled propaganda.
The actors had clearly given a lot of work and commitment to the exploration of their roles. Mati finding an endearing humour, Toni an unnerving intensity, Katalin controlling a sharp contrast and then Brenda triumphing with a sparkling and passionate portrayal. Corne gave a ‘feeling’ rendition in his unlikely role as an Iraqi / American college student, and Meret was extremely committed in the twitching bitterness of her alcoholic old woman. These performances were without context though, and it was hard to realize any substantial connection between the characters with their monologues, not least because this play was originally conceived as a one-woman show. It was also impossible to tell whether we were in ‘91, 9/11, 2001 or 2003. And though ‘9 Parts’ aspires to reach a climax with the bombing of the artist, there is insufficient sense of inherent destiny (dramatic logic) to this progression and the play fails as such.
The two-dimensionality of the script was matched by a rather flat staging, although presenting an interesting alternative of looking at the play through the mirror along one wall. And the lighting, though constantly in flux, was not used to add much to the emotion or import of the piece. Here and there, a strain of background music sought to settle the mood, with mixed results.
This was a worked production, even if perhaps more work was expended on it than the play itself merited. Well done, at last, to the directors, young cast and crew.
The actors had clearly given a lot of work and commitment to the exploration of their roles. Mati finding an endearing humour, Toni an unnerving intensity, Katalin controlling a sharp contrast and then Brenda triumphing with a sparkling and passionate portrayal. Corne gave a ‘feeling’ rendition in his unlikely role as an Iraqi / American college student, and Meret was extremely committed in the twitching bitterness of her alcoholic old woman. These performances were without context though, and it was hard to realize any substantial connection between the characters with their monologues, not least because this play was originally conceived as a one-woman show. It was also impossible to tell whether we were in ‘91, 9/11, 2001 or 2003. And though ‘9 Parts’ aspires to reach a climax with the bombing of the artist, there is insufficient sense of inherent destiny (dramatic logic) to this progression and the play fails as such.
The two-dimensionality of the script was matched by a rather flat staging, although presenting an interesting alternative of looking at the play through the mirror along one wall. And the lighting, though constantly in flux, was not used to add much to the emotion or import of the piece. Here and there, a strain of background music sought to settle the mood, with mixed results.
This was a worked production, even if perhaps more work was expended on it than the play itself merited. Well done, at last, to the directors, young cast and crew.
Benedict Clark
Head of Aesthetics
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