Landsfrau at Techcube Summerhall Review

11 Aug

From the moment the audience walks into the theatre, something is happening on stage. To begin with, it seems as though someone is still setting up props and preparing the stage for the show. The figure is dressed mostly in white, wearing a head covering with a long red/orange fringe which conceals their face. They are busy blowing up an air bed with a hand pump; there are more air beds around them lying flat on the floor, with more piled up behind them.

Once everyone is seated and the door is closed, they continue on as if unaware they are now being watched. There is tension in the silence as people look around trying to make sense of what they are seeing. There are many moments like this throughout the performance, where making the audience feel uncomfortable seems to be intentional. I wonder if it is a way of making us experience how she has felt at certain points in her life, simply for being who she is.

When the mattresses are all blown up except one (which is never explained), the air is filled with music, alternated with chatter and announcements, as though we are listening to the channels being changed on a TV or radio station, which is accompanied by physical movement. I am not sure about my fellow audience members, but I found it difficult to discern what the movement was trying to portray. I felt that time could have been put to use by giving the audience a little introduction or some background to what we were about to see.

Abruptly, the music stops and there is silence. The performer lifts the orange fringe away, tucking it into her headdress and behind her ears, so we can finally see her face. Without any prelude, she suddenly becomes a German school teacher, shouting at us with an authoritative tone. In spite of myself, I sit up straight in my seat, expecting to be reprimanded for slouching.

This is the first interaction between performer and audience - ‘Good morning!’ she shouts at us, and we are encouraged to shout back. She then asks about homework and looks for audience participation, which earns her more than a few laughs as people begin, uncertainly, to engage.

She asks people their names and if they have done the homework. She calls on a girl in the class ‘Arianna!’ and plays both the role of teacher and student in what can only be described as a comedy sketch. She is a first class performer with a natural talent for comedy and earning laughs from the audience, even with the gravity of the subject. For example, the question ‘Is your father Osama Bin Laden?’ is horrifying to begin with, but then becomes hilarious as she recounts being asked it time and time again on the school playground. She is not afraid to laugh at the absurdity of Western assumptions and fears.

Throughout the show, the air beds become desks, a large sofa, and couches to sit on, as they are arranged according to the nature of the next scene. Mariann plays all the roles in this moving and at times challenging one-woman show. Through movement, storytelling and music she shares her memories of her family in Afghanistan with us, until we can smell the rose water and taste the tea.

When she invites members of the audience to join her on stage, there are long minutes of hesitation. She lays the mattresses down around the stage and smiles as first one person joins and then another. She introduces people and encourages them to chat and get to know each other, all the while playing the gracious host. She serves tea to each person and chats to them, there’s a mutual understanding that the play has been suspended for the time being.

There is a real air of friendliness and commonality in the room, as people of different ages and walks of life make connections. (That warm, feelgood sensation stayed with me long after the show ended and I went off in search of katsu curry fries.)

While surrounded by people, Mariann tells us about the family gatherings she remembers as a child in Afghanistan. She paints a vivid picture of children running around, we can hear the call to prayer and clearly picture the auntie who demands the tambourine to be brought before prayers can begin.

It is clear that Mariann carries two cultures within her at once: her love of MTV and Western cartoons and the memories of her family back in Afghanistan. She herself feels like an ‘imprint of a memory formed from nostalgia’.

I do not want to give too much away, as Mariann has packed an incredible amount of action, drama, music and comedy into a profound message that cannot be ignored. As we hear endless media stories about migrants and ‘illegals’ this is a very timely show which will remind even the coldest hearts that we are all just people, regardless of where we are placed on a map.

Landsfrau plays at TechCube 0 at Summerhall until 31 August
★★★★★