Review: MRS. KRISHNAN'S PARTY at Saint Louis Repertory Theatre

An unusual delight opened at the Rep’s studio theater last night.  It’s a small, intimate piece  from the Indian Ink Theatre Company—all the way from New Zealand.  This company was founded twenty-eight years ago by actor/writer Jacob Rajan and director/writer Justin Lewis.  The company has won a number of prestigious awards—including two “Firsts” at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. 

Mrs. Krishnan’s Party, like many of Indian Ink’s works, was written by Rajan and Lewis.  Theirs is a fresh and bright and novel form of theater.  The play is set in the back room of a small and thriving Indian grocery called “The Dairy”.  It’s run by the cheerful and hard-working young widow Mrs. Krishnan. 

As we enter the theater we are eagerly greeted by James, an effervescent young Kiwi college student who rooms over the store.  He’s dressed lavishly in an exotic golden costume and crown—a king from Hindu mythology.  James is busily putting together a “flash” party to celebrate Onam, a harvest festival.  James, it seems, has gone out into the street to recruit likely-looking party folks (us).  Mrs. Krishnan is absent at the moment.  She doesn’t know about the party!   “SURPRISE!!”

Now this show is advertised as an “immersive” production.  That’s a term that usually makes me avoid a show.  It too often means that

• unlucky audience members will be drafted into participation and embarrassment
• unfunny audience members will feel free to call out lame witticisms
• sometimes a classic script will be wrenched out of its own context.  (I once saw Uncle Vanya transmogrified into a suburban cocktail party.)

But … this time I was most happily “immersed” in this celebration!  It’s a lovely show.  And it heartily embraces the open and ecumenical spirit of Onam.   This is a joyous festival celebrated by all sorts of folks—Hindu, Muslim, Christian—people of all faiths and colors.  It is the official festival of Kerala, that Indian State on the Malabar Coast.  It especially celebrates the Malayali (Keralean) diaspora.  So we all belong here in this store in New Zealand (or Missouri or wherever).

Indian Ink says of itself:

“We’re guided by the ‘Serious Laugh’, a love of mask and of story.  We aim to make theatre that is beautiful, funny, sad and true—to leave an indelible imprint on your heart.”

This show plentifully fulfills those goals. When Mrs. Krishnan arrives to see a crowd of party-goers in her back room she gasps, then notices “all those shoes indoors!” then says to the audience, “No, no.  Don’t take them off.  You’ll be leaving very soon!”  But quickly she accepts the party and becomes a most engaging and congenial hostess.  Of course one must feed the guests, so she sets about preparing a huge pot of daal and a giant cooker full of rice.  She gathers ready help from the audience.

While the daal thickens so does the plot. 

Among the happy (sometimes wacky) joys of the festival we learn of some life-sorrows too.  Young James has academic difficulties.  His only visible life goal is to become “DJ Jimmie J”. He’s been placed under Mrs. Krishnan’s care (in loco parentis) to ensure his graduation.  She seriously, lovingly embraces this role.   She expects her own son, Apu, to arrive for Onam.  His photo, in cap and gown, is proudly displayed.  But will he care enough to disengage from his new life to take part in what to his mother is a precious family tradition? 

And Mrs. Krishnan faces a major life choice.  She and her husband built a lovely small business.  Since his death she must decide whether to carry on in New Zealand or to return “home” to Kerala.  (Which place, now, is “home”?) 

So the evening is surely funny and sad.  And it is simply, beautifully true.

Jimmy is brightly played by Justin Te Honihana Pokaihau Rogers.  (The name exotically fills a marquee, but he comes across as a white lad.)  He radiates endless energy and bright spirit.  He has that young male Kiwi/Aussie aura of boisterous bravado.

But the show really belongs to Kalyani Nagarajan who plays Mrs. Krishnan.  She’s utterly adorable!  Quick, alert, funny, commanding—and deeply touching—she navigates this sea of humor with its reefs of sorrow so gracefully.  And she rises into episodes of quite strikingly beautiful South-Indian dance.