A play within a play tries to get at truth
The Death of the King
(out of 4) Written by Bahram Beyzaie. Directed by Soheil Parsa. Until April 10 at the Theatre Centre, 1115 Queen St. W. ModernTimesStage.com or 416-538-0988
In The Death of the King, co-produced by Modern Times Stage Company and the Theatre Centre, there are two images in Trevor Schwellnus’s scenic design.
One, a golden figure on its back, a mix between a sarcophagus and a suit of armour, is central to the play: the literal dead king of Bahram Beyzaie’s title.
The other, a raised circular platform painted to resemble the moon, becomes the stage upon which a mystery unfolds, where power relations evolve and attention is briefly paid to a suffering family, eventually eclipsed by a larger, more invasive force.
Beyzaie’s poetic, mystical and, at times, very funny play turns a straightforward “whodunit” into an ever surprising power play.
Directed by Modern Times artistic director Soheil Parsa, the man behind last year’s Dora Award-winning Blood Wedding, The Death of the King takes place at the onset of the invasion that replaced Persia’s Zoroastrian faith with Islam, apparently welcomed by the people.
King Yazdegerd III went into hiding and was found dead in a poor family’s flour mill. The play begins with the trial of the Miller (Ron Kennell), his wife (Jani Lauzon) and their daughter (Bahareh Yaraghi).
Under interrogation, the family expresses the oppression they’ve felt under the king’s reign by re-enacting their runin with their royal leader in disguise.
Their roles are always in flux: the Miller plays the king, his wife plays the Miller, their daughter plays her mother, the daughter plays the king, the mother plays herself and so on.
The harder the Chief Commander (Carlos Gonzalez-Vio) tries to find the truth, the more elusive it becomes.
Is the king who he says he is? Is the Miller who he says he is? If the king, the representation of God on Earth, is dead, is truth even possible? Or is it up for grabs to those willing to fight for it?
Kennell’s Miller is beholden to the sin of poverty and his hopelessness displays itself in sometimes bleak, sometimes comical moments.
Lauzon’s Woman is all intense and cunning anger.
But Yaraghi’s Girl is perhaps the most compelling; she’s the youngest, also sexually abused and mentally traumatized.
She’s obviously the least powerful person in the room.
So when she embodies the king with the strength that Yaraghi gives her, the king’s guards stand back in shock.
It’s a significant and empowering reversal.
When the ending finally brings the arrival of the Arabs, it’s underwhelming. Perhaps because we saw what the guards refused to, that invasion was imminent.
The story remains in the mysterious twilight of the moon, which may not be the most satisfying but is the most fitting.