We Live in Cairo
As with all successful musicals, We Live in Cairo, with book, music and lyrics by Daniel & Patrick Lazour, took years to perfect. Directed by Taibi Magar, the epic musical about the youthful protests in Egypt between 2011-2013 speeds by in two acts with one intermission. Currently at New York Theatre Workshop until November 24, the fine production presents a group of idealistic artists. As they encourage one another, they help foment revolution during the Arab Spring protests in 2011.
The production boasts thrilling musical elements. Variously, the Lazours blend these to include contemporary pop-rock and Arab musical traditions that memorably and exotically conjoin. Powerfully tracing the inspired revolution, Daniel Lazour and Michael Starobin’s orchestrations rouse the audience to emotional heights and depths.
Tilly Grimes’ set includes carpets in red hues and suggests a home away from home, with musicians seated at the rear of the stage which becomes a cafe/gallery. Not only does the set design express the comfort of friends bonding together, it suggests a safe and secure place of refuge. The musicians onstage also underscore the action as an integral part of the artist/revolutionary group, whose members express hope and fervor as the revolution achieves its initial goals.
Then the music shifts momentum. The situation devolves into chaos and division. The songs indicate the shift to another oppressive autocratic government and military leadership. Yet, though divided, the friends still hope.
Layla Meets the Artists/Activists
Initially we meet Layla (Nadina Hassan), a budding photographer, who expresses her love of the city in “Midnight in Cairo.” As she sings, we follow her to a cafe/gallery. There, her “boyfriend” Amir (Ali Louis Bourzgui), and a group of family and friends gather for a “release party.” (The dynamic, charismatic Bourzgui portrayed Tommy in the revival of The Who’s Tommy on Broadway.) During the gathering Layla meets zealous activist Fadwa (Rotana Tarabzouni), recently released from jail for protesting Egyptian leader Hosni Mubarak online. As a celebratory gesture, cousin Karim (Jon El-Jor) dons a huge papier-mâché Mubarak head and sings a satiric song criticizing Mubarak’s oppressive government. He also ridicules Mubarak’s unjust, selfish practices in lifting himself up amidst his people’s unemployment and poverty.
Amir introduces Layla to his brother Hany (Michael Khalid Karadsheh), and the others learn of her travel photography. Fadwa enlists her in more activist endeavors. Layla discovers Hany and Amir’s songwriting. Amir’s guitar music and Hany’s lyrics encourage activism. As a Muslim with identity issues, Layla, who doesn’t wear a veil, tries to leave, uncomfortable with Karim’s “striptease” ridiculing Mubarak. But they bring her back and soon engage her talents. Karim, from a wealthier family, practices his art: spray-painting political satire at night, cartooning Mubarak’s regime on Cairo’s walls. Gently, to engage her, Fadwa suggests Layla photograph Karim’s murals. Eventually, as Layla joins the group in earnest, they anonymously upload her photographs to Fadwa’s social media.
The Revolutionary Spirit Grows Online
The activists increase their number when Karim meets Hassan, who has been hired to whitewash over his cartoons. Hassan apologizes for wrecking Karim’s great murals. In a superb scene, Karim shows him the spray painting technique he uses (activated by David Bengali’s projections). The murals they subsequently create establish active, spot-on dramatization that enlivens the revolution’s fight for freedom from oppression.
When Karim introduces Hassan to the group, they hesitate when they discover his father’s affiliation with the Muslim Brotherhood. The Brotherhood counters their beliefs with its zealotry, a potential conflict. Nevertheless, Hassan joins them. An additional conflict occurs when Amir’s seriousness about marrying Layla, a Muslim, flips the script on her life. His and his brother’s Coptic Christianity constitute a barrier. It takes a sea change in family beliefs for Christians and Muslims to marry. At first Layla imagines marrying and running away with him, as they sing a lovely duet. However, though she plays along with his romanticism, Layla never loses sight of the ultimate impossibility of a union.
A Turning Point
Meanwhile, police drag Khaled Said out of a cyber cafe and beat him to death over nothing. As a gesture to support the fall of the Mubarak regime, Said’s family gives photographs of Khaled Said’s body to demonstrators to upload on social media. The production includes these real photos in Bengali’s projections. As the momentum grows on social media, other protestors join in. Numbers swell. Horrifically, some Egyptians succeed in setting themselves on fire. Eventually protestors in the thousands flood Tahrir Square on January 25, Police Day.
We Live in Cairo Attempts to Evoke the Excitement of the Tahrir Square Protests
With the thrilling music and an incredible selection of photographs, along with the video projections, the excitement of the hope and energy of youth penetrates. Stirred up are memories of successful protests against injustice and oppression in the U.S. and elsewhere. Indeed, the fire and fervency of the Egyptians at that point in time translates with currency to the present. Using projected news images, some of them appropriately brutal, the director attempts to recreate the ethos of the time.
For “Eighteen Days” the protests continue despite teargassing and police beatings. Though Hassan’s injury by a rubber bullet gives them pause, Fadwa stirs them with vibrance and fortitude. The youthful protestors persist. Mubarak issues a statement refusing to resign and the protestors lose their weapon of unity. The internet goes dark. However, inspired by youthful hope, their elders join in. Finally, Mubarak resigns. Though Act I might have had the exposition slimmed down, the act concludes coherently on an uplift.
In the second act of We Live in Cairo, the revolution devolves
In the second act of We Live in Cairo, the revolution devolves. The music clarifies the intentions of the protestors and the power of protest. Especially in the song “Genealogy of Revolution,” which Bourzgui’s Amir leads the others in a cappella, the importance of one voice magnifies. The let down comes when the hard work begins. Under pressure, how does one establish a democracy in a land of traditional royal rule and former oppression by occupiers and the military? Instead of leaders harnessing the youth to establish democratic institutions, we see our artists distract themselves with drugs and partying.
With the Muslim Brotherhood’s candidate’s win in a democratic election, the peaceful transfer of power must abide. However, the divisions take over and more protests occur. Fadwa and Layla fervently reject the leadership of the Muslim Brotherhood. Meanwhile, Hany believes that the military is conspiring to overthrow the Brotherhood by revving up the protestors to reinstall a military candidate. Though Hassan stays with the group, his Muslim family, outraged, demands that he stop the association. Furthermore Hany separates from Amir and refuses to write songs to support Fadwa and Layla and finish his one heartfelt song about love.
How We Live in Cairo resolves the conflicts and divisions among the friends surprises, depresses, uplifts. You will just have to enjoy this amazing production for yourself to see how the six activists keep their dreams of change alive through their artistry.
Kudos goes to the uniformly gobsmacking ensemble. Additional praise goes to the technical team who brought Taibi Magar’s vision to life. These include those not mentioned above: Ann Yee (choreography and movement), Dina El-Aziz (costume design), Bradley King (lighting design), Justin Stasiw (sound design), Madeline Benson (vocal arrangements and music supervisor), and Mona Seyed-Bolorforosh (music director).
The must-see We Live in Cairo runs two hours 30 minutes with one 15-minute intermission until November 24.
The post Theater Review (Off Broadway): ‘We Live in Cairo’ appeared first on Blogcritics.
