Oscar Wilde- disertatie

Playwright: By Rajiv Joseph

Country play is from: United States of America

Date and theatre where play first premiered: The world premiere of Guards at The Taj
was presented by Atlantic Theatre Company (Neil Pepe, Artistic Director; Jeffory Lawson,
Managing Director) in New York City, opening on June 11, 2015.

Story Synopsis
The revel of one of the most precious and glorifying edifice of the Hindustan empire, The Taj
Mahal, puts under motion an existential crisis of two guards .This dark comedy is to be
carried by two young and hopeless guards that are on duty at the marvelous discovery.
Throughout the play they debate philosophical subjects which eventually shake their believe
in God, the emperor and its rules , even the faith in each other. Guards at the Taj is a dark
comedy about two normal friends that will be swept by beauty, carnage and injustice that
surrenders one of the most famous wonder of the world.

Plot
Placed in Agra, India in 1648, Guards at the Taj tells the story of two imperial guards and best
friends, Humayun and Babur as they protect the newly created Taj Mahal against prying eyes
, as the emperor, Shan Jahan has decreed that no one should see the building before is
completed , including them. Driven by curiosity, the guards take a look at the magnificent
edifice and they are mesmerized- the most beautiful thing in the world is revealed. Breaking
that rule represents the beginning of their problem and as they will later learn, beauty has a
price.

Eavesdropping on their private chatter, we hear how the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan was so
inconsolable when his favorite wife died in childbirth in 1631 that he built this white-marble
mausoleum as her monument. We learn that it took 16 years for 20,000 workers to construct
this “jewel of Muslim art in India” — and observe how the emperor made sure that the world
would never see its likes again.

Director Amy Morton (a staunch member of the Steppenwolf faithful) has done a superb job
of modulating the pace and tone of the plot revelations. At the top of the show, the duty-
bound Humayun (Omar Metwally) and his high-spirited friend, Babur (Arian Moayed),
Imperial Guards of the Great Walled City of Agra, are presented as childhood friends with
comically dissimilar attitudes about the work ethic. Despite their differences, the bonds of
their friendship run deep.
Before their initiation into the dark side of being human, both Humayan and Babur would
agree that the essence of beauty is defined by the magnificent white marble palace they have
guarded for half their lifetimes, but are not allowed to gaze upon. And they firmly believe
that, like all things in the kingdom, beauty itself falls under the dominion of His Most
Supreme Benevolence Emperor Shah Jahan.

But as they keep the Dawn Watch in anticipation of the historic unveiling, the irrepressible
Babur lets his imagination fly him to the stars that blaze “like fires in the distance.” An artist
at heart, he envisions flying machines and worlds beyond the stars. The music of the night
supplied by designers Rob Milburn and Michael Bodeen is so hypnotic that even the
earthbound Humayun allows himself to be carried away. And in the moment that dawn
breaks, both friends disobey orders and gaze in wonder at the forbidden sight of pure beauty.

Although we don’t actually look upon this wonder of the ancient world, the unveiling of the
Taj Mahal becomes a magical onstage moment as revealed through David Weiner’s gorgeous
lighting, which has been designed to capture all the shifting colors of the rosy-fingered dawn.
The sheer beauty of it softens us up for the horrors of the next scene, rendered in shades of
hellfire in Timothy R. Mackabee’s scenic design, in which Humayun and Babur wrestle with
the contradictory demands of duty to one’s lord and loyalty to a friend.

It’s heartbreaking to watch gentle Babur deny his own nature and descend into barbarism to
carry out the brutal chores of his military calling. But the honorable Humayun’s conflict,
between robotic submission to the rule of law under which he was raised and an act of human
disobedience that would make him a traitor, is no less pitiful. If the only choice is between
death and dishonor, is either choice really ethical?

Character As the audience enters, Humayun (Metwally) is already in position on pre-

dawn sentry duty in front of a rough stone wall, silent and unsmiling with his sword at his
side. His fellow guard, Babur (Moayed), shuffles along habitually late and proceeds to
break Humayun's concentration with his constant chatter. The approval-seeking son of
the strict head imperial guard, by-the-book Humayun takes his role and its sacred oaths
very seriously. Babur is more of a dreamer, not above riling his childhood friend with
"mildly seditious" thoughts about their jobs, or pointing out the hypocrisy of a religious
autocrat who punishes treason over blasphemy.

Joseph writes sly, funny dialogue laced with jolts of lyricism, and the initial exchanges
between the two guards are highly captivating, even if some of the play's verbal detours
are more bewitching than enlightening.

Read more 'The Spoils': Theater Review

Babur has a talent for fantastical invention, and his anticipation of passenger air travel is
vivid and beautiful: "I bet there will be a sort of palanquin that can soar into the stars like
some giant bird." Unlike most dreamers, he sees all possible outcomes for his
predictions, mulling on the usefulness of flight to obtain greater knowledge as well as the
threat of flying weapons. He even comes up with the practical safety solution of the
seatbelt. Humayun, on the other hand, never gets as far as the endgame; his notions —
like a transportable hole to create doorways — disintegrate as he tries to explain them.

Much of the early conversation centers on the soon-to-be-unveiled marvel of the Taj
Mahal, which has been kept under wraps throughout its 16 years of construction.
Commissioned by the sovereign ruler of Hindustan, Shah Jahan, as a mausoleum to
honor his tragic consort, this elaborate architectural jewel has been conceived as the
final word in beauty. How the emperor intends to ensure that its splendor remains
unsurpassed is the subject of anxious speculation from Humayun and Babur. When they
turn at daybreak to take in the magnificent sight, the staging remains unchanged. But the
expressions of hypnotized awe on the actors' faces, and the brilliant intensification of
Weiner's lighting allow us to share directly in their sense of wonder.

Little else can be revealed about the plot without compromising the play's unpredictable
paths. The guards are ordered to commit a merciless act on an epic scale, and then
privately sift through the consequences of what they have done. For Babur, whose
concept of right and wrong comes from within, that process brings agonizing realizations
and a radical response. But for practical Humayun, that kind of self-examination and the
carrying out of orders don't mix, so he does his best to ignore his own discomfort and
calm his agitated friend.

Read more

That complex dialectic of ethical debate vs. unquestioning submission is an eternal

struggle relevant across countless wars and regimes, both past and present. It is
thrashed out here on a stage literally awash in the physical evidence of cruelty as the
tone morphs from gallows humor through searing poignancy to devastating conflict,
carried by exceptional actors at the top of their game. A coda scene that returns to the
guards' youth as soldiers is an exquisite piece of writing. It recalls an image evoked
earlier in the play of a sandalwood platform they built high in the trees of the jungle,
where they could sleep safely, away from tigers, and from which they share a stunning
experience of beauty in nature.

As the audience enters, Humayun (Metwally) is already in position on pre-dawn sentry duty
in front of a rough stone wall, silent and unsmiling with his sword at his side. His fellow
guard, Babur (Moayed), shuffles along habitually late and proceeds to break Humayun's
concentration with his constant chatter. The approval-seeking son of the strict head imperial
guard, by-the-book Humayun takes his role and its sacred oaths very seriously. Babur is more
of a dreamer, not above riling his childhood friend with "mildly seditious" thoughts about
their jobs, or pointing out the hypocrisy of a religious autocrat who punishes treason over
blasphemy.
Babur has a talent for fantastical invention, and his anticipation of passenger air travel is vivid
and beautiful: "I bet there will be a sort of palanquin that can soar into the stars like some
giant bird." Unlike most dreamers, he sees all possible outcomes for his predictions, mulling
on the usefulness of flight to obtain greater knowledge as well as the threat of flying weapons.
He even comes up with the practical safety solution of the seatbelt. Humayun, on the other
hand, never gets as far as the endgame; his notions — like a transportable hole to create
doorways — disintegrate as he tries to explain them.

Much of the early conversation centers on the soon-to-be-unveiled marvel of the Taj Mahal,
which has been kept under wraps throughout its 16 years of construction. Commissioned by
the sovereign ruler of Hindustan, Shah Jahan, as a mausoleum to honor his tragic consort, this
elaborate architectural jewel has been conceived as the final word in beauty. How the emperor
intends to ensure that its splendor remains unsurpassed is the subject of anxious speculation
from Humayun and Babur. When they turn at daybreak to take in the magnificent sight, the
staging remains unchanged. But the expressions of hypnotized awe on the actors' faces, and
the brilliant intensification of Weiner's lighting allow us to share directly in their sense of
wonder.

Little else can be revealed about the plot without compromising the play's unpredictable
paths. The guards are ordered to commit a merciless act on an epic scale, and then privately
sift through the consequences of what they have done. For Babur, whose concept of right and
wrong comes from within, that process brings agonizing realizations and a radical response.
But for practical Humayun, that kind of self-examination and the carrying out of orders don't
mix, so he does his best to ignore his own discomfort and calm his agitated friend.
The titular characters are Humayun (Omar Metwally) and Babur (Arian Moayed), low-level
imperial guards whose duty it is to stand in front of the building site, facing away from it.
Babur, portrayed with the restless energy of an overgrown adolescent by Mr. Moayed, arrives
late and keeps breaking the silence that the guards are supposed to maintain, to the stern
disapproval of Humayun, whom Mr. Metwally (“Sixteen Wounded”) imbues with a cranky
dignity. Obeying the strict rules — no speaking, no lowering of the sword, and certainly no
turning around to look at the building — is an imperative Humayun takes seriously. There are,
after all, severe punishments for various levels of civil disobedience, including the ultimate:
death by elephant.
Thought
The whole ideea of how far you are responsable for orders and how far you use your own
conscience
All of this, as well as the portrait of the capricious arbitrariness of absolute power, is
fascinating. The problem is that Joseph is forced to push his plot into improbable realms in
order to sustain the ideas. In particular, he treats the dismemberment myth as if it were a
reality.

The play is given expressive life in Jamie Lloyd’s production: its memorably static opening,
with the two guards on pre-dawn duty, gives way, in Soutra Gilmour’s design, to the
exploration of underground chambers running with blood. The two actors are also excellently
contrasted. Darren Kuppan as Babur is the epitome of the bright-eyed eagerness for new ideas
that is the manifestation of the human spirit in action. Danny Ashok, meanwhile, displays the
acceptance of the status quo that offers a licence to unchecked power.

There is no doubt the play has resonances for today, but I feel Joseph has sidestepped the
most topical fact about the Taj: not only was its probable architect, Ustad Ahmad Lahauri, of
Persian descent but it was built by workmen imported from all over central Asia. That, in a
modern world that exploits immigrant labour to achieve grandiose projects, strikes me as the
buried theme of Joseph’s odd but disturbing drama.

That complex dialectic of ethical debate vs. unquestioning submission is an eternal struggle
relevant across countless wars and regimes, both past and present. It is thrashed out here on a
stage literally awash in the physical evidence of cruelty as the tone morphs from gallows
humor through searing poignancy to devastating conflict, carried by exceptional actors at the
top of their game. A coda scene that returns to the guards' youth as soldiers is an exquisite
piece of writing. It recalls an image evoked earlier in the play of a sandalwood platform they
built high in the trees of the jungle, where they could sleep safely, away from tigers, and from
which they share a stunning experience of beauty in nature.
Language
The play might be set in 1648, but is really a cojntemporany play, they talk with every day
languageȚ but grow some balls yearț seriously Ș. The casual dialogue mixed with violent
make us think at the modern films.

Music/Spectacle
Birds calls, Crickets, Jungle soundsș insects, wind, trees,animals crying/roaring. Etc
Bad shriek ș The rush of a huge flock of birds flying ș Distant sound of screaming, chopping,
burning flesh, etc.

Critical Analysis
Production History
YOUR critical analysis of the play
Examples of productions