Disappeared News

I was disappointed to read Joseph T. Rozmiarek's put down of the fine effort by students in their production Rumi at the Earle Ernst Lab Theatre at the University of Hawaii, which I enjoyed last week.

Rozmiarek is clearly out of his depth on this. He seems to want to be entertained according to some sort of stereotype:

A shoestring budget keeps the actors in drab sweat suits with only minimal props and set pieces. Recorded music makes an ethnic nod and the entrance and exit dancing is perfunctory — with, sadly, no whirling dervishes in sight.

...

Plainly, we need more help from the director and actors to sort things out. We need things to watch that are interesting without being blatantly literal, dialogue that lets the words sing like poetry, integrated music and dance, and an exotic wrapping.

Otherwise, if this is your first introduction to Rumi, you might well wonder why Madonna ever sang his love poems.

Madonna might have been tuned in to Rumi, but this critic wants whirling dervishes, music and dance, and an exotic wrapping. Those who have studied or enjoyed Sufi teaching stories and in particular the many translated works of Rumi know better.

Sufi stories don't start "once upon a time" because they are timeless, and they don't end with "the moral of this story is" either. This critic seems to want the comfort of being handed the moral:

... So, somewhere among the thrashing and the slashing and the tussling and thrusting, a moral emerges. But we're never quite sure whether it's meant to be straightforward, funny, or both at the same time.

He misses the point. The interpretation is up to him.

Sufi teaching stories do not require dancing or exotic costumes. They may simply be read or performed. The reader does some of the work, but most of it is for the listener to complete. Victor Olsufiev wrote (snipped from an article very worth reading on its own):

There are many stories and parables which do allow application of more or less simple decoding methods: these are allegorical stories. By taking them in an appropriate context, or layer, it is possible to uncover the meaning of their content, and to interpret it accordingly. However, Sufi teaching stories are not allegories. And if they are, they are not only allegories.

Yes, it's a complicated thing, not to be handed the answer but to have to figure it out yourself. Maybe understanding will come on the spot, maybe later, perhaps never. It depends not only on the stories but on the listener. Maybe understanding will manifest in how the listener reacts to some future event in her own life.

Moreover, this is a lab theater. It's very appropriate to select, interpret and present the works of Rumi to an appreciative and understanding audience. It didn't matter that Rumi was presented in ordinary clothing ("drab sweat suits"!). Richard Burton starred in a famous John Gielgud production of Hamlet acted in street clothes. Burton himself is said to have disliked period costumes. Following Giegud's lead is no mistake, despite this critic's preference for "exotic wrappings."

Check out also the works of the late Idries Shah on Sufi thought and writing.

Shah maintained that spiritual teachings should be presented in forms and terms that are familiar in the community where they are to take root. He believed that students should be given work based on their individual capacities, and rejected systems that apply the same exercises to all. In his own work he used teaching stories and humour to great effect.

I'm sorry that many readers of today's paper may skip this weekend's productions based on the printed review. The few reading this article who may attend won't make up for the loss.

Bravo to the students and the director for choosing to work with Rumi and for bringing it to the late-night audience. Let's have more, with or without dancing and fancy costumes. I'd rather have Rumi tried and presented in different ways. More Rumi, please, UH, and don't let this guy drag you down.