Rep’s ‘The Who and the What’ channels ‘Fiddler’
Brookfield-raised playwright Ayad Akhtar has said that if his play “The Who and the What” were produced in a Muslim country, the theater staging it would be burned.
In Akhtar’s play, the horrified father of Atlanta-raised Zarina tells her that her novel “The Who and the What” — which suggests the Prophet Muhammad lusted for his son’s wife — would get her killed in his native Pakistan.
Nobody was killed and no fires were set during the Milwaukee Repertory Theater’s opening-night performance of Akhtar’s play Friday. But director May Adrales keeps things hot in this emotionally intense rendition of a comedy that continually tilts toward tragedy.
Things begin lightly enough, as 32-year-old Zarina (Soraya Broukhim) and 25-year-old Mahwish (Nikita Tewani) make small talk in the kitchen.
Afzal (Brian Abraham) — the strong-willed patriarch ruling both women’s lives — has made clear that the younger Mahwish can’t marry until her older sister does. Zarina insists that the book she is writing is company aplenty.
But as we quickly learn, Zarina isn’t being entirely truthful with either her sister or herself. She’s pining for the man her father rejected because he is Christian; this onetime beloved has moved on and started a family.
Meanwhile, Afzal is trying to set Zarina up with a good Muslim. We ought to dislike him, but we don’t — any more than we dislike the very similar Tevye in “Fiddler on the Roof.” Both men clearly love their daughters. Both can be charming and funny. Both have a good heart.
And both are more sensitive and conflicted than their blustering selves initially suggest.
Credit a nuanced and moving performance from Abraham — a physically imposing man, which heightens the comedy — for helping us fully appreciate Afzal.
Much like Mahwish and Eli (Ben Kahre) — the play’s fourth character, and the man Afzal wants Zarina to date — Afzal is underwritten. As I noted after seeing a Chicago production of “The Who and the What” two years ago, Akhtar generates many of his laughs by flirting with caricature, in a play in which Zarina is the only fully rounded character.
But Abraham allows us to feel for Afzal even as we also laugh and cringe at what he says. The payoff comes in a wrenching climactic scene — involving excellent work from all four characters — that feels fully earned.
I suspect this production will deliver more such moments after the cast has had another week to jell; as of opening night, Broukhim in particular didn’t yet have full control of the material. So wait, but definitely go.
This may not be Akhtar’s best work. But it still packs a punch, asking tough and trenchant questions about what we must overcome in shaping who we hope to be.