Our hero arrives at a London airport with a fake leather suitcase full of stories. Or is it a blue leather suitcase, full of lies? Is it our hero himself who’s the fake? Backgammon for Beginners is a poignant and superbly sensitive story about storytelling. At its centre is the Farsi saying “Yeki bood, yeki nabood,” traditionally used to start a tale. It translates as “Once there was someone, once there was no-one at all.” The performance grows organically from this contradictory statement, perpetually undermining its own truth-status and offering differing versions of the narrative from all three performers. What we think we know is this: a man takes a plane from Iran to England in 1976, falls in love and fathers children who have hazy and dreamlike understandings of their cultural heritage – and of their father. He may be an opium addict, his children may be illegitimate, he may be a seducer or a faithful husband, he may or may not have returned to Iran. Without giving away the answer, all I can say is that the conclusion is refreshing, pertinent and, ultimately, extremely honest.
All this is related in an exquisite harmony of acrobatics, storytelling and music, which teeters constantly at the exhilarating brink between virtuosity and real danger, actor and character and fiction and reality. Kaveh Rahnama is a charming and very sympathetic central character (we can’t even be sure of his name), and has done well to find such a consistent and likeable personality to act as an anchor to the fictions and aliases that orbit him. Especially insightful are the moments in which his own bewilderment at his multiplicitous identity is revealed. In one nailbiting scene he stands with his partner perched unsupported on top of his head, the embodied pressure, danger and concentration making for a convincingly pained confession that he doesn’t know who he is or why he came here; he isn’t even really sure where Iran is. Lauren Hendry glides through multiple roles with the aid of schematic costume changes, which are almost unnecessary given her excellent range of persuasive physical characterisation.
Most compelling, however, is the chemistry between the two. Opening with a backgammon-playing scene which brought a whole new meaning to the “game of seduction” cliché, Rahnama and Hendry establish an onstage dynamic characterised by a powerful combination of trust and frisson, which lingers on through stylised moments of lovemaking and quarrelling. It provides a wonderfully apt bedrock to their impressively perilous acrobatics. The choreography is at times hair-raisingly ambitious, never shying away from lifts and leaps that catapult these performers to the heights of their discipline. Less convincing as a performer is Roshi Nasehi, who, as a musician, dips in and out of a storytelling role. Her vocal and keyboard score, however, is rich and atmospheric, and her promising experiments with looping and sound effects could be further explored.
The personal story of this Iranian immigrant is also a social one, grounded in the history of the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran. The production’s approach to this event is human and idiosyncratic, avoiding debates on Islamic politics to focus on how this context and the mythology surrounding it have diffused into relationships, families and identity. In cringingly retro shades of brown, and in a backgammon-inspired set (unfortunately more reminiscent of a 1970s TV game show) an affectionately individual world is created. But despite the convincing tenderness with which the family is portrayed, we are constantly reminded of their fictitiousness: “once upon a time, they never existed.” Backgammon for Beginners evokes the power of the most captivating storytelling, which, by coaxing the absent into view, presents a web of germane and recognisable truths.
Backgammon for Beginners is part of the Roundhouse CircusFest12. For more information about the festival visit the Roundhouse website.