The stand-up comic in renowned dermatologist Anil Abraham shines bright in his famous play Gentlemen, which was staged recently in Bengaluru. Described as “a hilarious take on men’s obsession with their phalluses”, the play is basically monologues by men from different socio-economic backgrounds.
First up is a Malayali techie, who is suffering from performance anxiety. When he is forced into marriage, he tries to tell himself he isn’t ‘up’ for it. “Both literally and figuratively,” he adds. And which song does the DJ play at his wedding? Adnan Sami’s evergreen Mujhko bhi toh lift kara de!
The packed crowd in the hall burst into laughter. They were served with more sarcasm when a barber from Shivajinagar confessed his honest thoughts on contraception.
Translation kills authenticity but let me try. In Bengaluru Urdu, he says “Baarish mein chatri theek hai saheb magar mohabbat mein condom jamta nahi” (It’s alright to hold an umbrella when it rains sir, but a condom has no place in love). Further expressing his hate towards condoms, he asks the giggling crowd, “Just imagine, how weird will it look, if there is a piece of plastic between the lips when two people are trying to kiss?”
“People said they laughed throughout Gentlemen. However, on their way back home, they spoke about things other than the humour,” says Anil, currently a professor and the man who wrote the play that first made its debut in 2007. “The actual intentions of our play had become part of their serious conversations. The idea was to hit them with humour and let them contemplate the essence of the subject,” he says.
Getting the message across
Indian theatre has dealt with contemporary issues in various forms. It needs to put more faith in humour while promoting gender-related themes. “Humour is a great way to convey a message without being preachy,” opines Anil.
“Nobody is open to preaching because there is propaganda of various types happening on all platforms today. That is, if somebody is giving a lecture on an important topic, it might sound boring. If I were to do the same thing and wrap it up with humour, it becomes palatable to consume,” he reasons.
Right from the time of Shakespeare, society is tilted in favour of men, observes Anil. “Like in The Taming of the Shrew, the woman is kind of shown her place. In films, people whistle for machoistic portrayals. Humour helps us to bring another point of view, as we have seen in the recent Malayalam film Jaya Jaya Jaya Jaya Hey, which was a dark comedy on domestic violence,” he points out.
To strike a balance, Gentlemen has a female character who acknowledges that men don’t openly discuss their feelings even as she puts things in perspective about gender equality and stereotypical arguments around feminism. “Everything is done with a sense of humour. A female character is present because any discussion should have a counterpoint,” he says.
The right kind of comedy on stage can spread awareness of gender sensitivity. “The problem in our country is that we have everything in our heads but we don’t talk about it. This is where the millennial and Gen Z crowds are far better than the rest as they discuss everything. But we hear cases of flashing in public and other acts by people from different generations because they can’t healthily express their thoughts. They never got a chance to talk about them, and that’s a classic example of repression,” explains Anil.
The biggest challenge while dealing with comedy is to ensure people get your message, says Suraj Kiran, actor, director and mentor at WeMove Theatre, a Bengaluru-based theatre group. “We can’t entirely predict how people will take the jokes,” he says.
Suraj directed Nothing Like That, an English play on gender and body image written by Madhuvanti G. It was an anthology of stories that depicted the insecurities of a dark-complexioned girl, a bald man, an ageing woman and a short-statured man.
“Comedy must work with people of all categories. Generally, plays are watched by theatre artistes, intellectuals, and laymen. So, it’s important to have a layman’s language so that you can connect with everyone. It’s necessary to play around with clichés and enhance them while writing jokes,” he offers.
Below the surface of comedy, it’s possible to sneak in messages. That’s why Suraj decided to offer closure to the stories that weren’t present in the original script. “The writer felt that any conclusion might be wrong, but I summed up the stories by helping the characters accept as they are and love themselves more,” he recollects.
What’s not funny?
With humour on gender, there are chances of crossing the line and offending people. “As a director, I avoid below-the-belt comedy. When actors come up with such improvisations, I consciously cut those scenes. Even a child watching my play must enjoy it without uncertain thoughts in his or her mind,” says Suraj.
Anil echoes Suraj’s thoughts about how such content must make people from different age groups comfortable. “Talking about Gentlemen, many elderly people confessed they were nervous about the play’s topic in the beginning. I could see their unrest when the play began. But soon, they lapped it up, saying everything that had to be told was told enjoyably,” he recollects.
Indian theatre needs more quality gender-based humour, feels Anuradha Rao, an experienced theatre professional, founder director of Untitled Arts Foundation and the theatre group The Big Fat Company.
“In our play Name The Game/Hidimba, one episode was written to generate laughs and it worked well. We showed how society is stereotypical to people considered ‘not so pretty’. We showed a woman’s stereotypical journey of looking ‘pretty’. And she is always judged, no matter what she wears. If she wears a saree she is called an aunty. If she wears spaghetti, she is called a slut,” she described. “Humour has great potential to strike a chord with people. But when it comes to gender, writers don’t go beyond the typical ideas like bedroom comedy. The jokes are tasteless. It takes skill and intelligence to write creative gender-based humour,” she opines.
(With inputs from Pushkar V.)