Review | Epic ‘Mahabharata’ at the Shaw Festival feels urgent yet strikingly timeless

Mahabharata

Written and adapted by Ravi Jain and Miriam Fernandes, using poetry from Carole Satyamurti’s “Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling,” and directed by Jain. Until March 26 at the Festival Theatre, 10 Queen’s Parade, Niagara-on-the-Lake. shawfest.com or 1-800-511-7429

The “Mahabharata” is like a hallowed tree.

A living and breathing text, the Sanskrit epic grows with each generation as new storytellers revisit its rich allegories of peace, responsibility and revenge.

It’s been translated and retold in countless languages and mediums over its 4,000-year-old history: oral stories, temple dances, a hit animated television series and, believe it or not, a thread of nearly 2,700 tweets.

The tale’s latest branch is emerging at what is perhaps an unlikely source: Niagara-on-the-Lake’s Shaw Festival. This “Mahabharata” takes the form of a five-hour theatrical event, split into two parts, each with two acts.

As adapted by Why Not Theatre’s Ravi Jain and Miriam Fernandes, the classic epic has been injected with a bracing urgency for our ever-fractured, post-truth society.

So perceptively directed by Jain and thrillingly performed by a multi-talented company of international artists, the world premiere of this “modern retelling,” as it’s labelled, feels timelessly resonant yet also firmly rooted in the present. At a time when we need it most, the “Mahabharata” serves as an ominous warning as we tumble down a path toward the inevitable fate that greeted the epic poem’s chorus of characters.

I’ll spare the play’s narrative details. As the Storyteller (Fernandes) tells the audience off the top: “Don’t be confused by the plots. Within the river of stories flows infinite wisdom.”

At its core, the tale concerns two branches of an ancient noble family: the five Pandava brothers and their cousins, the 100 Kauravas led by their eldest brother Duryodhana (Darren Kuppan).

Bad blood boils between the two sides, compounded by generations of conflict within the family. When Duryodhana and his father, the blind King Dhritarashtra (Harmage Singh Kalirai), send the Pandavas into exile for 12 years, so that the young Kaurava prince can secure his place on the throne, the five cousins — including eldest Yudhishthira (Shawn Ahmed), Bhima (Munish Sharma) and ace archer Arjuna (Anaka Maharaj-Sandhu) — plot their violent revenge.

The first of the two parts, “Karma,” centres thematically around “the life we inherit,” while the second part, “Dharma,” focuses on the idea of “the life we choose.”

Many individuals of South Asian descent are likely intimately familiar with the reverential tree that is the “Mahabharata.” They’ve climbed every branch, know the pattern of the bark like the palm of their hand. The stories form a part of their identity and, for some, it’s part of their spiritual self.

Others, like myself, have only a cursory knowledge of the text and its history, curious to learn more.

What’s special about Jain and Fernandes’s adaptation is that it offers something for all, no matter how familiar they are with the original stories. The work is accessible yet never compromises in depth; it moves at a clipped pace but also doesn’t shy away from the text’s knotty contradictions.

Jain, as director, deserves much credit as well. The production features a pastiche of artistic disciplines — from traditional storytelling and classical Indian dance (spectacularly choreographed by Brandy Leary) to a stunning 15-minute operatic adaptation of the famous prebattle “Bhagavad Gita” (composed by John Gzowski and Suba Sankaran) between Arjuna and the god Krishna (Neil D’Souza) — and Jain seamlessly integrates all these forms.

He directs with laserlike intent, carefully moulding his vision across the play’s four acts. Visually, the opening act is spare. An open flame and a few wooden stools surround a circle of what appears to be red sand, while a group of instrumentalists are situated upstage. It’s as if Jain and set designer Lorenzo Savoini are reminding us that this is an ancient story, originally passed down orally and communally.

But as the epic play unfurls, the production designs grow more complex, culminating in the first act of “Dharma,” as both the Kauravas and Pandavas prepare for battle. If the proceedings in “Karma” were firmly set in the past, things are not quite as clear in “Dharma.”

Chandeliers light the space, with bulbous wires strewn throughout. Computers and cameras populate the tables, as live video feeds of the Kauravas in their war room are projected on a horizontal screen above the stage (designed by Hana S. Kim).

Here, it seems Jain and Savoini are hinting that we, today, are repeating these mistakes of the past. Our egos, greed and need for revenge are still ever present. But with our advantaged technologies, the consequences of acting upon these impulses are perhaps more deadly than ever.

There are so many of these links between past and present weaved into Jain and Fernandes’ adaptation — always subtle, never too obvious.

Late in the second act of “Karma,” cautions elder statesman Bhishma (Sukania Venugopal): “When the truth cannot be agreed upon, war is inevitable.” He says that while kneeling over a flame at the lip of the stage, warning his grandnephew Yudhishthira of the dangerous trap into which he and his cousins are about to fall. But he may as well be speaking to us.

The multinational cast — which hails from Canada, the U.K. and as far as Malaysia — deeply inhabits their roles and is excellent all around. Kuppan, in particular, deserves special mention for his lightning-rod portrayal as the eldest Kaurava. So too, Venugopal and Kalirai, who both exude a stoic wisdom that is challenged and warped as those around them bend to their individual desires.

It’s Fernandes, however, who delivers the most compelling performance. As the story’s guide, she possesses a warm gravitas, gently leading the audience through what could be a confusing story with confidence and clarity.

In all, what Jain and Fernandes have crafted is a “Mahabharata” that meets the moment: a modern retelling, indeed, for our bitterly divisive, hyper-technological times. Developed over eight years, the production is a significant achievement. And that it has premiered at the Shaw Festival ahead of a planned world tour (it’s produced in association with the Barbican Centre) is something to be celebrated.

Still, there are several points I hope the creators address between now and then. The projections, for example, are excessive (though no doubt striking) and could be pared down in “Dharma” to maximize their impact. And the play’s quiet conclusion could be tightened. Right now, the ending narrows on Yudhishthira before falling into a series of moral clichés when it could, instead, expand on the fates of the rest of the characters.

I sense that this work will continue to develop; that Jain and Fernandes will have many more opportunities to refine and sharpen the play in the years to come. But as it stands, this “Mahabharata” is still requisite viewing. A triumphant success, may this new branch on the tree of this Sanskrit epic continue to be nurtured and grow.

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