Theatre review: Himmat shows a father and daughter finding the strength to relate to each other
Strong performances and atmospheric lighting and projections help bring a universal family story to life
Photo by Wendy D Photography
Theatre Conspiracy presents Himmat at The Cultch’s Historic Theatre until May 15
IT HAS BEEN SAID that your life flashes before your eyes moments before death, as a summation of all that's transpired. In many ways, any reminder of mortality can spur you to examine the relationships and experiences that form who you are. In Gavan Cheema’s play Himmat, the spectre of death hangs over a family, bringing a father and daughter to reveal aspects of themselves hitherto hidden, pressed by time to connect with and understand each other without reservation.
Banth (Munish Sharma), a 64-year-old man, has been admitted to Surrey Memorial Hospital to undergo treatment for cancer. Ajit (Cheema), his 24-year-old daughter, and Bachani (Veenu Sandhu), his wife of 40 years, are by his side as they wait for his surgery. In the morphine-induced haze of his pre-op stay, Banth begins recounting the long story of his life—from his rural beginnings in Punjab, India, where he used to run barefoot after school, to his life in Canada as a young man, working blue-collar jobs to support his family. Amid his recollection, a darker past surfaces: disagreements over alcohol caused strife, and workplace injuries battered his self-esteem. As the “miracle baby” that changed his ways, born years after her siblings, Ajit strives to learn more about the person her father once was, someone she never knew.
Amid a backdrop of death, Cheema’s play is paradoxically about growth, both in the way we can find the strength to relate to each other and the personal development that everyone goes through. Bachani and Banth needed to find common ground for their marriage to work, and each had to temper their impulses to strike a balance: for him, it’s his errant alcoholism; for her, it’s the indignation over missing the chance to raise Ajit due to work.
Individually, Banth and Ajit reflect on their anger in relationships, recognizing its futility and the damage it causes. The universality of the story comes through most acutely as the father and daughter talk, learning about their respective vices and shortcomings.
Director Paneet Singh modulates Cheema’s time-shifting script with visual aids from lighting designer Parjad Sharifi and sound and projection designer David Mesiha. Mood lighting, like the flickering cast from a television screen, enhances the realism of the sparse stage, dressed simply with a hospital bed and heavy truck tires for different locales. Projections on a corrugated roof backdrop give context, with home videos tying a real sense of history into the work.
Sharma is versatile as Banth, animated as a young person, and convincingly bed-ridden, worse for wear in old age. Similarly, Cheema taps youthful energy to play Ajit as a child, bouncing and flailing with abandon, but turns inwards for adulthood, leveraging nuance in her performance.
Himmat, meaning courage, is certainly a mark of this production; to maintain authenticity, segments of the story’s flashbacks are in Punjabi without subtitles, which can leave audiences who can't understand it yearning for these scenes’ meaning. Although this can disconnect the plot, the language barrier creating a gap, the story traces back to core familial bonds enough that one can recognize the gist of its narrative.
Inspired by events from the playwright's own life, it is a work that shows how our loved ones can take root in us and manifest in a myriad of ways, a monument to the power of our relationships.
Related Articles
