JADAR

★★★★☆

The Kite Runner is based on the acclaimed novel of the same name by Khaled Hosseini, which was also adapted into a Hollywood film. The story is set against a backdrop of tumultuous events, from the fall of Afghanistan’s monarchy through the Soviet invasion, the exodus of refugees to Pakistan and the USA, and the rise of the Taliban regime. Equally beautiful and emotionally draining, especially if you are Afghan – like yours truly.

The play follows an Afghan boy/man called Amir over the course of a few decades, from his childhood to his adult life. Amir is, once again, played by Stuart Vincent, who excels at playing a complex character who suffers trauma after trauma. He masterfully plays Amir at different stages of his life, often stepping in and out of the action when he is playing Amir then (with an Afghan accent) and Amir now (with an American accent).

Vincent, who never leaves the stage, has electric chemistry with his cast mates. His father, “Baba” (Dean Rehman), is another complex character. He loves his son but can be critical – though he appears to be cruel to be kind.

The play explores Baba’s interesting politics: he is friends with the President, suggesting an opposition to monarchy; he flees Afghanistan during the Communist takeover and becomes an anti-Carter, Regan-supporting Republican in the US. Baba can be liberal and forward-thinking but also conservative and traditional. He does not appear particularly religious – he even justifies drinking alcohol. He is an example of a minority of immigrants who move to the West and suck up conservative propaganda. He serves as but one example of the play’s determination to portray Afghans and Muslims as diverse peoples, not monoliths.

There are two main ethnic groups in Afghanistan: the Pashtuns and the Hazaras. My maternal family belong to the former. The latter is a marginalised community; in the 19th century, more than half their population was massacred. The play tackles many ideas but struggles to find time for all of them – but it pays a good amount of attention to this ethnic conflict (well, persecution).

Amir and his father are Pashtun; their servants – Ali (Tiran Aakel, who also plays Farid) and his son, Hassan (Yazdan Qafouri, who also plays Hassan’s son, Sohrab) – are Hazara. Both generations have known each other their entire lives. They are like family.

But Amir is considered a traitor by some other Pashtun boys for being close to a Hazara. Amir, as the narrator, reveals that he never considered Hassan his friend, even though the flashbacks show that they clearly were – which tragically reveals Amir’s social conditioning to see himself as superior and Hassan as his servant. Interestingly, Amir’s father does not possess such thinking, and when Amir suggests getting new servants, he reacts furiously and warns his son that if he speaks of that again, he will lay a hand on him for the first time.

As a young adult, Amir begins a romantic relationship with Soraya (Daphne Kouma), a young Afghan woman who desires liberation from her conservative father, General Taheri (Ian Abeysekera). The even worse plight of Afghan women under the Taliban regime is also spoken about. It is a little odd that Taheri has an English accent, Soraya has an American accent, and all the other Afghan characters have Afghan accents – including Amir (except when the future Amir is narrating the story with an American accent, having picked it up from living there for years).

There is not a weak link amongst the cast, which also includes Bhavin Bhatt as Assef (who is exceptionally evil as the primary antagonist, who goes on his own journey), Christopher Glover as Rahim Lhan / Dr Schneider / Omar Faisal, Susan Hasso as Ensemble/Rebecca Andrews, Aram Mardourian as Kamal/Zaman, and Stanton Wright as Wali/Doctor.

Hanif Khan – the son of renowned tabla played Ustad Hidayat Khan – plays the tabla throughout the show, including before the show begins and during many scene changes. I believe he stays onstage for the entire show. Music is an important part of Afghan history and culture, no matter what the Taliban say or do – including burning tablas. The importance that the play puts on the tabla is political; it is resistance.

Amir narrates the story as an adult, taking us back to his childhood and telling us of how he came to live in the USA. Amir steps in and out of the main action, sometimes adding context and other times telling us exactly what happened to speed things up – because, given the time span, there is so much to get through.

The play is a more successful example of a narrator-led play. The narration allows the play to keep the action going so that we can get through as much as possible, but being talked at does become a bit tiresome. There are strengths and limitations to narration – and this play has both.

2.5 hours is not enough time to show everything. Matthew Spangler does a good job of condensing the novel and getting through all the main plot points but there is not enough time to do all the storylines justice. Ultimately, the play must skim past some points which deserve more nourishment – or at least historical and political context.

For instance, the play touches upon Bacha bāzī (“boy play” in Persian), a practice in which men (sometimes called “bacha baz”) buy and keep adolescent boys (sometimes called “dancing boys”) for entertainment and sex; it often involves sexual slavery and child prostitution by older men of young adolescent males. But all the play does is show a Talib have an enslaved boy dance for him, with sexual violence suggested – especially because this man had raped another boy years ago. Never is the incident properly contextualised – there simply is not the time for it.

The rich, heavy story, no doubt, makes for an intense, gripping novel, but as a play, it can feel a bit overstuffed. But it’s a tricky one, for nobody wants to watch a five-hour-long play – especially not one as traumatic as this one.

Director Giles Croft artistically brings the heavy, narrator-led story to life, with help from the creatives.

The stage design (Barney George) is simple but effective, with an artistic backdrop and cloths that occasionally swing from above. Images and moving images are projected (William Simpson) on to the backdrop and the cloths, transporting the audience from place to place and enhancing the mood of each scene. Each scene is accompanied by lovely lighting (Charles Balfour), captivating compositions (Jonafhan Girling), and superb sound (Drew Baumohi). George’s costumes are rich but delicate. The creatives have worked in tandem to create a world that is authentically Afghan and never fetishistically exotic. The production has been designed with love and respect.

Yet, the stage design could possibly do with a a bit of an update. As Amir spends much of the show narrating, the production could benefit from some more visual excitement. The wings dropping and images being projected on to them feels a bit repetitive; there should be a few moments where something noticeably different is done.

I’m sure that the stage design felt fresh and inventive when the play premiered but stage design has come a long way in recent years. Whilst video design feels too commercial for such a raw, gritty play, the production could certainly invest more into projections and moving images to truly and masterfully bring the action to life.

The story, itself, is beautiful, emotional, depressing, and traumatic. It’s a real rollercoaster of emotion that will have you crying both tears of sadness and joy.

The Kite Runner runs at the Lowry (Lyric Theatre) until May 11 and tours the UK until July 6.

Photo: Barry Rivett for Hotshot Photography