Theatre
Il-Kuluri tal-Perlini
Talenti Theatre Company
Manoel Theatre

Exploring the intentions and motivations which permeate the more shadowy aspects of human nature has been a long-term goal of theatre practice.

Talenti Theatre Company, in collaboration with the Manoel Theatre, decided to merge this endeavour with an industry nod to one of Malta’s prolific writers of the mid-20th century, and in so doing, paying homage to his work.

Zep Camilleri’s script for Il-Kuluri tal-Perlini, which ran at the Manoel Theatre last weekend, drew inspiration from Ġużè Chetcuti’s 1965 play Imħuħ Morda (sick minds). In his programme notes, Camilleri, who also directed the piece, admits to the fact that much of the original script was changed to suit a contemporary setting, while Chetcuti’s original characters were kept, with the addition of others.

The resulting script was strong in certain elements such as characterisation and solid on plot, but still did not manage to escape the datedness of Chetcuti’s sentiments. This flaw was rather at odds with the fresh, conversational style of dialogue in the lighter aspects of the script, which went down very well in chronicling the ordinary interactions of the characters and their hidden secrets.

To define the piece “a thriller” was, however, a bit of a stretch, especially since some of the more intense emotional scenes were a tad too melodramatic.

The script’s saving grace was the fact that it functioned as a great showcase of the individual actors’ skills in characterisation

What particularly comes to mind is the scene where Anton (Mario Micallef) threatens his wife Lizette (Antonella Galea Loffreda) with a gun in broad daylight in a village square in the presence of Dr Alex Calamatta (Anthony Ellul). The scene felt rather contrived and didn’t carry as much strength and pathos as it was intended to. The same can be said for several other crucial and rather intimate scenes throughout the play.

Interestingly, the script’s saving grace was the fact that it functioned as a great showcase of the individual actors’ skills in characterisation as it was much better channelled in this aspect since it was tailor-made for them. Their dynamic was excellent and each portrayed their role sensitively, making the most of their lines.

Micallef’s Anton made for a credible distanced and selfish husband, whose alcoholism and base meanness keep pushing his wife away.

The character which Galea Loffeda cogently created for Lizette combined the love that a mother has for her only daughter with the disgust and disdain she has for a husband she no longer loves or respects, while harbouring an even darker secret.

Letting on less than she knows, Marvic Cordina’s measured and well-executed performance as Netta comes across as kindly and concerned, looking out for Mario Spiteri’s simple but shrewd Totinu and worried almost as much as Lizette about the relationship that Suzanne (Larissa Bonaci), Anton and Lizette’s daughter, has with Oswald (Clive Piscopo).

Bonaci gives a feisty and insightful portrayal of a young woman on the brink of adulthood who is trying to break away from her mother’s over-protectiveness and coming to grips with the realities unveiled by her father’s novels which seem to be recounting her family’s story move by move.

In attempting to figure out what the conclusion to his final novel was, she stumbles on the darkest of her mother’s secrets: her illegitimacy and the horror of finding out that she had been dating her own half-brother; breaking even Anton’s theory that Dr Calamatta is her biological father and consequently defying audience expectation.

Piscopo’s portrayal of Oswald’s family background and his behaviour around Suzanne were executed sensitively. Monika Attard played Emilia, Anton’s sister, whose machinations originally brought her brother and Lizette together. Attard was, as always, in good form and wrought her character finely, thus completing this group of people whose interconnectedness relies on the tensions between them, rather than positive ties.

They are bound together in their mutual pushing and pulling and as such are lost to their passions and idiosyncrasies: each intention a different colour – just like the colours of those most traditional of carnival sweets, sugared almonds (perlini).

And this is how the story unfolds – against the seemingly innocent and playful backdrop of the Maltese carnival festivities, reminding the audience that no amount of jest and sugar can coat the bitterness that people can have for each other.

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