Giles Croft’s adaptation of Hosseini’s tale offers a decent introduction for newcomers but plain taste for book lovers
Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner delves into a man’s guilt, redemption and his arduous journey towards true maturity through crucible of courage. Adapted by Matthew Spangler and directed by Giles Croft, this production of The Kite Runner, a co-production of the Nottingham Playhouse and Liverpool Everyman & Playhouse, endeavours to tell Amir’s story through a theatrical showcase.
It is of course not easy to squeeze such richness of Hosseini’s narrative into two and half hours. Therefore, it seems apt and wise to choose Amir (Stuart Vincent) as a narrator, yet at times, the delivery seems overly hurried, with Vincent appearing to race through his narrative lines, resulting in the incoherent transitions between addressing the audience directly and acting within the scenes. It has been improved in the second half after the interval, where Vincent more adeptly balances his dual responsibilities as narrator and actor.
The initial incoherence may stem from the first half’s focus on the childhood of Amir and Hassan (Yazdan Qafouri). I feel awkward with the cast’s overacting, denoted by Amir’s constant finger-rubbing which illustrates his cowardliness without any shoulder of responsibility. Similarly, the duo’s imitation of gunfire with hand gestures and “biubiubiu” sounds comes across as going overboard. Nonetheless, I have to say that the casting of Qafouri in the dual role of Sorhab, Hassan’s son in the latter half, feels more natural and fitting, letting the awkwardness gone in their final kite-flying scene.
In the book, there is a pomegranate tree that symbolises the friendship and innocence of Hassan and Amir. It shelters and witnesses their carefree days, when the two carves their names on the tree; it also witnesses Amir’s betrayal and guilt, when he tries to irritate Hassan by smashing pomegranates onto his face, secretly wishing for Hassan’s retaliation that will gives him relief and reduces his sense of guilty. This pomegranate tree is smartly hinted by Barney George’s design, with a line of irregular shapes of tree branches stretching. Serving as a background, this multifaceted symbolism is accompanied by two halves of a giant, white kite that can at the same time be used as a projection.
I would say Hanif Khan, the tabla player, is definitely the MVP of the night. He presents incredibly beautiful percussion and soundscapes together with the ensemble playing singing bowls and schwirrbogens. While the singing bowls enable us to hear the blood pulse within Amir, the schwirrbogens capturing the sound of wind during the kite tournament. The tabla starts off ten minutes before the play, providing us a bit of exotic flavour of the Arabian world (it’s okay to forget about orientalism for one night, right?). When the play officially begins, it becomes a reflection of Amir’s internal turbulences and emotions.
The overall acting style feels a bit dicey, swinging in-between a minimalist ensemble presentation and main characters’ naturalist acting. It is a pity that the production fails to ignite the full potential of an ensemble, simply using them to play the mimic kites or the schwirrbogens, despite their capacity to convey characters’ sophisticated feelings and psychological depths. Such an approach leads to a level of uncertainty and ambiguity in an ambivalent sense. For instance, in the scene of Hassan’s rape, Amir is positioned barely hidden with minimal props to conceal, yet paradoxically remains unnoticed by the trio gang of Assef (Bhavin Bhatt). It would be weird if it is naturalist, but it is equally disjointed as a minimalist bare stage because there’s no pre-settled arrangement like “let’s assume Assef and Hassan cannot see Amir” between the actors and the audiences.
However, I do like the last scene in the end of the first end where the cast does an elegant and swift transit between acting and a featured monologue. While Amir is delivering his monologue directly to the audience, he is also constantly exchanging eye contacts with Ali (Tiran Aakel), Baba (Dean Rheman) and Hassan, freely shuttling between the world of reality and the world of his internal which only the audience can hear.
This production serves as a decent choice for those yet to read the book and prefer to experience the beautiful Afghanistan story in a single evening rather than through the laborious process of reading the entire text. However, for readers who have been greatly touched by Hosseini’s writing and have shed their tears, there isn’t much new this production can offer.