In all history, biology and philosophy books, the one definition that always seems to capture the essence of the concept of memory is French philosopher René Descartes dynamic patterns in fleeting spirits. The most poetic, and possibly most poignant, description of memory to emerge in modern culture is Chinese filmmaker Wong Kar-Wai s traces of tears coined with his 2004 film 2046. For Kar-Wai, novelist Marcel Proust and film director Tarkovsky, consolation is rarely synonymous with memories. Forgetfulness is the one genuine blessing.
The illusions, anguish and unbounded realms of memories is the main theme for director Effat Yehia s towering Zakerat El Meyah (The Memory of Water); a play that s been attracting a growing audience since its debut at the Townhouse Gallery last February. The play just finished its 5-day run at the Talia Theater after winning the best actress award for Moataza Abdelsabour and the best upcoming director at the second National Egyptian Theater Festival.
Memory opens with a woman, dressed in a white gown and lying vertically on a spotless bed, ruminating about past lives and shattered affairs.
Two young women appear on the stage. The first is Dalia (Dalia El Guindy), a wealthy psychiatrist married urfi (without a legal contract) to her colleague Tarek (Mohammed Shindy). The second is Zahra (Maysa Zaki), a middle-class housewife married to the chocolate salesman Mahmoud (Yehia El Decken).
The two are joined shortly by Yasmine (Abdelsabour), a sultry, free-spirited aspiring singer. The three are sisters and the woman in white is Zeinab, their dead mother. As the three prepare to bury her; secrets surface, their memories collide and truths are revealed. While each sister recollects agonizing moments of their deceased mother, questions arise: Who was Zeinab, really? How close to reality are her daughters memories of her?
Memory is a small, yet rich play with a multi-layered plot. On one level, it is a chamber, character-driven plays à la Henrik Ibsen and the theater works of Ingmar Bergman. On another level, it s a meditative drama about the frailty of memory and the unwavering coldness of death.
Early on, we re led to assume that the three sisters haven t met each other for quite some time. Their relationship is marred by strains, splatters of envy, disrespect and an abundance of misplaced pity. Each one is leading a damaged, futile existence shared with men whose only common trait is infidelity.
Despite her prosperous career, Dalia is involved with a feeble man who can t divorce his wife because of a serious, enigmatic illness. It s obvious that the two aren t in love – they are just in need of each other s company.
Zahra lacks any skills or talents. She spends her days with her adulterous husband who has no ambition for the mere sake of being married and fulfilling a vague purpose created by society.
Despite the contrasting lifestyles, Yasmine isn t different from the other two, but she s the loneliest. Her paltry concern with a certain man is rooted in her determination to prove that her life isn t the major catastrophe her sisters know it is, and to fill a deep void in her soul produced as a result of lack of love and acceptance.
Zienab, or, to be accurate, the apparition of her younger self (Salwa Mohammed Ali), is a domineering, strict and occasionally callous woman who falsely accuses one of her daughters of sleeping with other men, mortifies another for failing to pass high school and bullies the third for her inappropriate dress code. She never gave them any affection – perhaps she didn t have any, but she was also a victim of a loveless, solitary marriage that lasted 40 years.
Incidents of cruelty inflicted by their mother appear to be distorted and fuzzy. Do the three sisters use their mother as a scapegoat for their half-lives and all the unhappiness they re engrossed in? Possibly, but, just like in real life, truth, for them and for us as well, remains unattainable and unfathomable.
With an unadorned naked set, no music and limited flood lights; the strength, and triumph, of the play lies on the shoulders of its performers. With the exception of Shindy who gives an atypical, slightly overdramatic performance, all actors deliver some of the best performances on a public stage this year. El Guindy, Zaki and Abdelsabour in particular captivate the audience with their intense, bravura performances that unveil all the ache, regret and disappointment that have grown too heavy for their characters to conceal.
The overlapping dialogue is spontaneous, raw and natural. The chemistry between the three leading actresses is something to marvel at. Specifically the few playful, happy moments, which brim with tenderness, broken joy and vulnerability. You ll laugh and cry with them, feeling every ounce of their grief. These women are, above all, strong-willed individuals with miscalculated choices; women whose real undisclosed battle is their inner conflicts.
By the end of the play, the dead mother s figure continues to ogle silently at her daughters, watching helplessly as their miseries unravel and her life is tarnished.
Many people believe that no one dies as long as they live on in the memories of their loved ones, but memories are deceptive. Our memories of the dead are subjective impressions, not who they actually were. In this case, what remains is an indifferent, lifeless and hollow gaze of this woman; of death as a deep-seated, immeasurable loss.
