Ajax a new play by Habib Yazdi at BCT

Or: Muddy the Waters

Ah Ajax. A light little Iranian comedy. Fun, sun, and the CIA. No, nothing bad will happen, why would you think that? Pay no attention to the drumbeat of history, the humid sense of unease that climbs the hairs of one’s neck. Though in truth playwright Habib Yazdi has created a comedy of manners (or ill-manners) that serves, tennis like, from lightness to frightfulness, from sweet to delectably bitter.

August, 1953. Iran is entering the modern age, finally shrugging off colonial interest and slowly shucking away the monarchy under the work of Prime Minister Mohamed Mosaddegh. Women’s rights are championed, the country finally controls its own oil, the people are at peace, and foreigners are flooding into Tehran to make the most of burgeoning opportunity. In the midst of this is Kambiz (Shayan Hooshmand) the conscientious pool boy at a private villa. Service is his profession but he dreams of greater things, so he is all to happy to make the closer acquaintance of Kermit (Andy Ingalls*), a mysterious American with big plans. Kermit (or Kim, to his friends) needs a compatriot and sounding board, a guide to Iranian custom, and the smallest stepping stone that will launch him into the orbit of the Shah (Amin el Gamal).

Oh and there’s a pool. Did I mention the pool? Not only a physical water feature (the jewel of Alexander Woodward’s luscious, transformative red-tiled set) but a character as well. Ben Farha (in a fetching array of outfits courtesy of Chanté Thornton Hamann) lounges, basks, and witnesses from the water, wriggling and writhing as his placid calm is disturbed. Ancient spirit or modern psychosis conjured by Kambiz to pass his days with, Farha’s reactions put the extra shine on the show, both in comedy and disquiet. It’s telling that the first and last moments of the play revolve around a defiling of his pristine waters.

The waters are already muddied when Kermit, the quintessential “ugly American” swans into the villa. Lose-limbed and careless he takes an unlikely interest in the proper Kambiz, who nonetheless attempts to teach him the fine art of manners and address, of gift giving and wooing. (Is there some glimmers of flirtation between the pool boy and his guest? Is that a good thing? Come find out.) Hooshmand takes us through the delicate, humorous dance of Yazdi’s dialog, susserating with folk expressions and humorous observances. While his character is written a tad too naively, the actor makes the most and gives us a believable portrayal of an honest good-hearted man, led down the prim-rose path.

These cultural exchanges, Kermit enticing Kambiz to dream bigger, result in the former’s polishing. Hooshmand becomes more attached to his Eliza Doolittle, even as Kermit weaponizes his understanding of Iranian culture to further his own goals. Ingalls’s Kermit is both despicable (a wrenching, odious chancer) and pitiable (way out of his depth and obsessed with leaving a legacy, searching for worth in all the wrong places). This bumbling mastermind lolls about the stage with an ease and surety, his presence crafted from Kermit’s drunken dancing to the small, terrible smile he flashes as things start to go exactly wrong.

El Gamal as the young Shah is mix of virile energy and effete primness; the ultimate incompetent heir, assured of his greatness but beset by fears of failure (and/or ignominious death). Though straying towards caricature, El Gamal whips the Shaw back around to a grounded performance, that balances the Shah’s deep faults with a sense of how he road the events of ’53. A latecomer to the play is Kermit’s boss Loy (Gordon Reinhart), the gruff, sober, but fiercely calculating foil to his subordinates brash questing, a company man who sees an opportunity to be fished from a cocked hat.

You don’t need to crack open a history book (or, face it, a newspaper) for an understanding of Ajax as a pivotal point for both Iran and America. Yazdi players and shadows hints of all that is to come, but is very much set on this moment in history. It’s only these men, and a pool, on whom the fate of nations pivot. It all could have been so different. But even amidst these weighty matters there is still laughter and shock. Fun, sun and the CIA. There’s a moment of stage magic my mind keeps going back to: a wondrous gag that perfectly balances the sense of fun and despair of Ajax. It’s a surprise that simmers nervous laughter from the audience and then keeps on raising the temperature. It’s matched with a decidedly less fun prestige at the plays end, the perfect unexpected discovery that you find, in the way of the best jokes, or tragedies, you were waiting for all along.

• On a personal note, Gentle Reader, I will take this time to say that not only is Ingalls an incredible stage actor, he is also an audiobook reader ‘par excellence.’ I highly recommend his reading of Francis Spufford’s magnificent Cahokia Jazz, available in CD or Libby at the library or libro.fm (which will allow you to support your local bookstore).