Albert, the central character in Mario Micallef’s Mixja fid-dlam (Talenti at St James Cavalier) is a 60-year-old who has recently married Tania, a woman 30 years younger than he.
Albert (Mario Micallef)’s suggestion of the suspicious jealousy that lies dormant in his brain and is ready to leap out is excellent in his first scene- Paul Xuereb
The seemingly happy relationship begins to crumble and ends up being shattered following Albert’s meeting with an old friend, Tonio, an ophthalmologist.
Though Tonio is no Iago to Albert’s Othello, what he says to Albert early in the meeting with which the play opens, when for some inexplicable reason Albert still has not informed him of his marriage to Tania, sets Albert’s pathological jealousy moving so strongly that nothing can stop it.
What Tonio tells Albert, who has just said he has marriage to a younger woman in mind, is that Albert would probably be unable to satisfy a young woman’s sexual needs and that a young wife would soon start longing for her husband to be out of the way. While this advice might not be diplomatic, there is nothing wrong or unethical about it. The problem is that Tonio does not realise his advice is addressing Albert’s secret fears.
The effect of Tonio’s words is perceptible soon enough to the audience, but the relationship becomes tragic when we discover, at the opening of the second act, that Albert is now incurably blind, his optic nerve having been badly damaged in a car crash, with Tania at the steering-wheel.
Albert is now severely depressed because of his physical helplessness, so his jealousy becomes even less controllable than before. Though Tania behaves like a very loving and caring wife, her running of Albert’s business wreaks havoc with his fancies and he becomes obsessed with the idea that Edgar, a handsome and very efficient young man (whom we never meet) who is Tania’s secretary and right-hand man, is now Tania’s secret lover.
Such is his obsession that he asks Tonio, who has not just remained his friend but is also his eye consultant, to find out secretly what Tania’s relationship with Edgar is and keep him informed. Tonio indignantly refuses to act as a spy but finally agrees with reluctance when he begins to fear for Albert’s sanity.
The relationship of the three becomes more complex and promises disaster of some sort, and surely enough, disaster does happen. The tragic ending, however, does offer a ray of hope for the future.
Micallef’s play opens well, with scenes that introduce the three characters and hint at their psychological make-up, but as the first act continues to develop, and even more so in the second act, the atmosphere often rises to the level of melodrama.
In particular, Ray Abdilla’s Tonio is allowed by the director, Zep Camilleri, to have scenes of thundering speeches that would have been excessive even in a theatre not half as intimate as the round theatre at St James Cavalier.
Tonio should provide a good contrast with Albert’s hysterical and violently obsessive nature, and like all good doctors he is not just a specialist but also a professional with knowledge of psychology. It is he who advises Albert to seek the services of a psychiatrist and he controls his growing attraction for Tania, especially in a scene with Tania, one that Abdilla handles very skilfully.
In a scene late in the play the audience also learns that Albert has even suggested that Tonio try to seduce Tania to test her fidelity, and it is this that makes Tania lose her remaining faith in Albert, and makes her husband realise that now certainly all is lost with his marriage.
One scene towards the end is such old-fashioned melodrama that it made me grin. Tania, in a scene with Tonio, confesses to having been unfaithful – but only in her fancying a faceless lover while Albert is making love to her.
At that moment, a curtain upstage opens and Albert appears bellowing out the accusation “Traitress!” This unnecessarily excessive scene is introduced to lead up to the play’s tragic climax, but a scene of a tenser and much less hammy quality would have done as well.
Mario Micallef, who plays Albert, is, however, subtler in most of his other scenes, bringing out the unexpressed thoughts coursing through his brain and not just the ones that lead to a speech or an act.
His suggestion of the suspicious jealousy that lies dormant in his brain and is ready to leap out is excellent in his first scene, making one suspect that he does not tell Tonio immediately of his marriage because he is putting off the evil moment when he exposes his treasured relationship to possible danger.
In the second act, jealousy combines with the depression of having to face blindness at every moment to make it impossible for him to see reason, whether coming from Tania or from Tonio. His feverishly passionate kissing of Tania again and again emphasises his great physical need for her.
Moira Muscat’s Tania does not have the advantage of a confidante, as Desdemona has in Emilia, but the character has no hidden depths to reveal except for the not uncommon guilt of picturing someone else when in bed with her spouse.
Her grateful response to Albert’s kisses early in the play becomes more impatient, and perhaps worse, as the play wears on. This Tania is a good woman who finds herself in a situation out of which she cannot safely emerge.