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White White Black Stork, The Pit, Barbican, London

By Chris Wilkinson
Published: June 7 2006 17:47 | Last updated: June 7 2006 17:47
Financial Times Arts & Weekend/ Art, music & theatre
The New York Times
June 9, 2006


Adolescence can be hell anywhere. But for 16-year- old Makhzum, growing up in Uzbekistan at the turn of the 19th century, it virtually destroys his life. He is a gentle lad, content to sit in his garden writing poetry, surrounded by the white storks that nest there. Worried about this seemingly aimless existence, his parents pack him off to the local madrasa to study and pray in the hope it will turn him into a man. But when he falls in love with another male pupil, he is forced into an arranged marriage to avert the shame this would bring on his family. This collision between his emerging identity and the expectations of family and society creates a shock wave that threatens to tear apart everything around him.
At a first glance, this show appears to be little more than a simple fable told in a direct and uncomplicated manner. Yet the challenge the story poses to the binding and oppressive traditions that are suffocating Makhzum and his family is far more subversive than this. It is presented by the Ilkhom Theatre from Tashkent, a company formed when Uzbekistan was part of the USSR. Under the direction of Mark Weill, they have spent 30 years presenting work that seeks to probe and challenge the country’s successive dictatorial regimes from within. Tyranny fears spontaneity, so the story of the emergence and destruction of an illicit love becomes a potent allegory for the corrosive effects that overbearing power can have on the human spirit.
Shukrat Abdumalikov’s beautifully arid set – a dusty stage dominated by an ancient, dying tree – is ideal for Weill’s unfussy production. Unfortunately, however, there are far more mundane factors than state oppression hampering the show. The play is performed in Uzbek and Russian, but the surtitles are slow and often make it hard to tell who is saying what and to whom. And the recorded musical score is needlessly melodramatic. Nonetheless, this is a touching, gently sad piece from an important international company.
Tel 0845 120 7550

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Tashkent
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Phones: + 998 71/ 241-2241, 241-2252, 244-0403
e-mail: ilkhom_theatre@tps.uz


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