Oxford’s annual Asian theater show, ‘Chutney & Chips’, was back at it last week, delighting crowds who streamed in to St John’s Garden Quad Auditorium for one of four performances. Nisha Julka’s original script combined traditional Bollywood tropes–love triangles, song and dance, and comic relief–artfully in a way that spoke to the Oxford audience. The core conflict in the production was about what it means to be both Indian and British; yes, just like “Bend It Like Beckham,” but situated at Oxford and in which the main characters don’t play soccer but rather act in a play. And though that sounds irreverently self-referential (oh, a play about characters who act in a play), the whole thing does–perhaps surprisingly–work. Chutney & Chips is enjoyable because it doesn’t take itself too seriously.
The great strength of the production is the infusion of Bollywood into anything and everything. The thorough celebration of all-things Indian makes the thematic conclusion of the play never in doubt–Jeevan will, of course, reconnect with his Indian roots and get the girl that he loves. I found Chutney & Chips’s exuberance of India exhilarating The costumes are wonderful rich and Indian to a T. The opening 10-minute Bharatanatyam sequence is well-executed and sets the scene for the rest of the play: there ain’t nothin more Indian than Bharatanatyam.
The token white characters (yes, Bollywood films have them too) had the innocuous names of Dave and Sonia. But Dev and Sonia are Indian names too, and Chutney & Chips makes a strong case against racial exclusivity: the point here is that anyone can be Indian, no matter the color of skin or accent of voice. Indeed, Chutney & Chips’s message of pan-Indian universalism is something that Indians themselves should take to heart–too often it seems that India is riven by internal rivalries: Hindu v Muslim, north v south, caste v caste, etc.
The strongest part of Chutney & Chips is how well song and dance was integrated into the production. From the opening Bharatanatyam sequence to the closing Harlem Shake, everything was just fun. Including, incidentally, the scene that used Some Nights by fun. The seeming randomness when dance would break out was just awesome: the needlessness of the dance scenes is what makes Bollywood Bollywood, and Chutney & Chips captured it perfectly. The best dance was the impromptu red repairmen dance at Bridge. It sounds ridiculous, and it was. But so good.
The use of music was strong as well. I wouldn’t want to take the music director in a round of Antakshari–I’d get hosed. Clearly these guys know their stuff, and they chose the exact right music for the right scenes. The wide range of music, from classical Indian to Western pop, was excellent. Even better was how the music was integrated into the plot. I don’t know of a better song than Pretty Woman for that moment when Dave met Sonia, and Jeevan’s strumming of Ladki Bardi Anjanni Hai was perfect.
I enjoyed the simple sets and props. The totality of props included a few tables, chairs, a bed, and a broom. But even these items tell a story. For example, the set director somehow found an old palang to use–a cheap bed to Western eyes, but so much more to Indians in the know. I nearly gasped when I saw it rolled on to stage: I mean, that’s what I sleep on when I go back to India.
The acting was varied throughout the performance. The highlight, no doubt, was the passionately comedic performance of the character Mukesh (Johnny Lever beaten at his own game, dare I say). Continuing with the ‘play-within-a-play’ motif, Mukesh is told that he is the breakout character in the play-within-a-play. While that’s not true, Mukesh certainly was the breakout in Chutney & Chips. He was sassy and sexy, and you can’t beat unzipping blue coveralls to expose a full tux underneath (very Bondish). The other strong performance was the bit piece of Jeevan’s high school girlfriend’s over-protective older brother. He gets to beat up Jeevan, and actually does. Those kicks hit real ribs, and I’d hate to see the bruises day-after. The fight was certainly better than the stale Bollywood fight scenes of the 80s.
Unfortunately, most of the emotional scenes (particularly when Jeevan confided in Rachana) didn’t seem exactly right. The actors had trouble expressing openness and love between one another. Luckily our amateur actors have at least 5 years to learn these emotions before their parents marry them off in arranged marriages. Paging Dr. Mukesh from Chandigarh.
I had two other criticisms of the performance. First, Chutney & Chips suffered from something that all Bollywood films and old Indian aunties can commiserate with: bloat. The performance was perhaps 15 minutes too long.
My second criticism is more substantive, however. Thematically, Chutney & Chips played it too safe. There is nothing outre in the three couples of Jeevan and Rachana, Chirag and Shivani, and Dave and Sonia. All are heterosexual, and each pair is racially homogeneous. Unfortunately while Indian film today is pushing boundaries on sexuality, race, and religion, Chutney & Chips was uncomfortably blase. Indeed, the only stirring of social criticism in the script is the portrayal of child marriage, though Balika Vadhu does a better job in that regard.
Chutney & Chips 2013 was a strong performance, and I look forward to the 2014 iteration. I will certainly be there, and I hope to see you too.
