Solo player makes magic
When the lights rise at the start of Paradise or the Impermanence of Ice Cream, the latest output from local company Indian Ink, Kutistar — a Harvey Norman salesman, played by Jacob Rajan — is on a rock, seemingly in limbo, unsure where he is and how he got there. When he tries to move away, he encounters a sensory overload, and discovers himself trapped in the small area around his new abode.
Struggling to grasp his new circumstances, Kutistar is confronted by a vulture eager to pick apart his flesh. It sparks memories taking him back to 1980s Mumbai and a chance encounter with Meera, a Parsi woman who has just inherited an ice cream store and a mountain of debt.
A night of strange adventures blossoms into a friendship linked by mystery as the pair become embroiled in a scheme to revive the city’s vanished vulture population.
It is a sprawling plot with a wider scope than many local plays, featuring a large cast of characters and locations that takes the audience through Mumbai and its many cultural and religious differences.
Yet the miracle of Paradise is how it achieves this scope with only one actor. Aside from the vulture, Rajan portrays all seven characters — including Kutistar’s present and younger selves — all while remaining trapped within his character’s personal purgatory space.
Paradise also gives him little to work with in a physical sense. John Verryt’s set is just the rock, which serves as bed, staircase, mortuary table and storage, set against beautiful kaleidoscopic projected backgrounds that shift with every scene.
Yet Rajan creates a vibrant world in one of the most extraordinary performances I have seen on an Auckland stage.
His subtly choreographed movements and ease with switching through characters brings to life Mumbai and the world of the play in a way few ensemble casts or heavily decorated sets could achieve.
Rajan fully realises every character he portrays, and seamlessly shifts between each one — posture shrinking when he inhibits Meera’s elderly aunt Dr Rao, gestures changing between the older and younger Kutistar. It is a one-man play that never feels lonely, and Rajan deserves every gong New Zealand could possibly send his way.
Other aspects add to the world — notably David Waird’s sound design helps with some great jokes that separate the characters — but none more so than Jon Coddington, the puppeteer behind the vulture that brings together life and afterlife. The vulture puppet, a marvel to look at, is an extraordinary supporting character and Coddington channels a convincing avian performance through the puppet.
As technically impressive as the staging is, the power of Paradise comes in its strong story, co-written by Rajan and Justin Lewis, exploring missed opportunities, regret, and ultimately happiness. It builds towards a beautiful final moment that draws life and afterlife together.
To label this a must-see is an understatement — Paradise is a joyous and heartbreaking event that realises the magic of live theatre and storytelling in a truly unique way.