Humans Lie! Let’s face it – most of us have somehow or another catapulted ourselves into a sufficiently awkward situation where telling the truth would not only create chaos, disaster and despair, but could also potentially cause a relationship – new, old, platonic or romantic – to crumble right in front of our eyes.Or so we’ve come to believe.
Despite our best efforts, however, the truth always finds a way out. What better way to experience such a truth than by sitting back and relaxing, while humouring one of human nature’s most practiced survival mechanisms through Anthony Nielson’s farce, The Lying Kind or Il-Giddieb Għomru Qasir, as translated to Maltese.
Currently running at Sir Temi Zammit Hall, Unifaun Theatre’s production of The Lying Kind by Anthony Nielson – translated by skilled author Simone Spiteri to its Maltese script – is a hilarious night out with guaranteed belly laughs.
The show starts off by introducing us to our protagonists; two inept police constables known as Blunt and Gobbel (Sander Agius and Daniel Chircop) who are tasked with informing an elderly couple – Garson and Balthazar (Marylu Coppini and Michael Tabone)- about the death of their daughter, Carol, on Christmas Eve.
The two policemen are then seen nervously trying to pluck up the courage to ring the couple’s doorbell, when they are suddenly and rudely interrupted by Gronya (Magda Van Kuilenburg), the official representative of ĠKPŻ ie Ġenituri Kontra Pedofili Żibel (Parents Against Paedophile Scum) and town bully.
She bombards them with questions about why they’re there (presuming they know something about a paedophile who happens to be at large), going so far as to grab their most sensitive parts in her quest for answers.
When the policemen finally make their way inside Garson and Balthazar’s house, an endless chain of events sparks off, involving an apparently transvestite vicar (Snits), a spoilt and arrogant teenager (Julie Pomorski) and a blameless chihuahua, all a consequence of the intricate web of lies that has been spun by the protagonists.
The pair bounced off each other extremely well; their chemistry is a force to be reckoned with
The internal themes employed by Nielson add to the hilarity, describing modern society’s way of life with goosebump-inducing insight.
The set itself was a wonder to behold, captivating the audience as soon as the curtain opened to reveal Romauldo Moretti’s beautifully-designed, suburban British home.
This initial moment of awe was immediately succeeded by Agius and Chircop’s animated and comical deliveries. The pair bounced off each other extremely well; their chemistry is a force to be reckoned with.
As the stage spun around to reveal the shabby living room of Garson and Balthazar and its corresponding catastrophic events, a wave of non-stop laughter resounded throughout the University Hall. This was thanks to veteran actors Coppini and Tabone, who dominated the stage with each side-splitting exchange.
As the audience members sat back to regain their breath, comedy actor Snits entered as Dun Shandy, who entertained with his acrobatic skills along with delivering a flabbergasting striptease performance during a black-out he endured due to being hit on the head by a baton…several times, might I add.
I utterly enjoyed the mother-daughter duo performed by Magda Van Kuilenburg and Julie Pomorski. Magda’s intentions were crystal clear from the start, as was made evident by her energetic and bold interpretation of Gronya. Joined by Pomorski’s vibrant, yet bratty, Carol (yes, there’s two Carols in this rollicking tale), the two were priceless.
This fast-paced energetic farce was excellently delivered to great effect, undisputedly due to the experienced direction of Chris Gatt, whose cast members eminently demonstrated strong vocal and physical work. I was enchanted by the entire cast’s almost perfect comic timing.
All in all, an entertaining night that left me thinking Anatole France was spot-on when he said: “Without lies humanity would perish of despair and boredom”.
Spiteri’s proficient use of the Maltese language allows the audience to follow Nielson’s slapstick folly with accuracy. However, for those of you who’d rather watch the play in the language it was intended, you can catch The Lying Kind on October 21, 22 and 23. Another performance in Maltese runs today.