There’s a saying in Arabic: البكاء على الأَطْلال, which when put into a directive, becomes “don’t cry over the past”. Yet, we all know that this proves more difficult when the wound is still open, and we are faced with the active reminder that the wound has never truly healed.
Presented by the Clockfire Theatre Company, and created and directed by Emily Ayoub and Madeline Baghurst, RUINS أطلال follows Amelia Alyssa (Emily Ayoub) who travels to Lebanon, her country of origin without her father Joe Alyssa (Tony Poli) as he had passed away shortly before her trip.
Contending with the “unfinished business of death”, Amelia sets out to the Hotel Palmyra, one of many famous hotels in Lebanon that hosted icons like Jean Cocteau and Ella Fitzgerald.
In what is a quaint but larger-than-life establishment, geopolitical events clash with the personal. Ancient stories of the Phoenicians are signposted in the narration, which recounts the centuries-long struggle to make sense of the world and the underworld.
Upon entering Hotel Palmyra, Amelia is greeted with Lebanese (Turkish) coffee and the radio playing, as she takes in the sight of her homeland, standing silently and alone.
We hear of Amelia’s interpersonal problems as a single mother through her father’s narration. We hear her young daughter Julia through voiceover while her ex-husband Daniel, remains voiceless as we can only hear Amelia’s protestations.
We hear of contradicting legends of how the Temple of Jupiter was built. We hear of the story of the Phoenician sky god, Baal.
We hear of soldiers with kalashnikovs at checkpoints threatening to shoot Joe because he laughed at them. We also hear of the civil war, and 1982, when Israel had just invaded Lebanon.
That line in particular, hit very close to home. At the time of publication, the Bekaa Valley and Baalbek specifically, have been subject to airstrikes by Israel, as mainstream media covers the attacks on the Northern part of Lebanon less frequently. There have also been fears that the existence of Lebanon’s cultural heritage, including the ancient temples and ruins discussed in the play, are under the threat of destruction.
Ensemble cast Madeline Baghurst, Piumi Wijsundara and Adam Al Kuheli held their own as they shapeshifted as the play demanded that everyone be on stage together to produce each scene. The cast moved with such nimble force and energetic movements, almost coordinated like a furious dance. They also handled props including a desk, mirror, bag, shovel, carpet, and most importantly, a door, with delicacy and care. Salutations also go out to flautists Gianna Cheung and Jessica Scott for their beautiful musical performances.
Ayoub shone as Amelia but it was Poli who soared as Joe, and propelled the narrative forward. When Amelia cried out for her father, it was particularly heartbreaking as his ghost had not been on stage during that moment to witness her despair.
At times, the play teetered on horror with voices and an immersive sound of a downward pressure. One of my favourite elements of this audiovisual feast, was the musical composition by Johnny Yang. It was majestic, as if it was coming from an astral plane but never did it become overpowering or out of place.
The videography by Laura Turner projected onto various props brought imagery of Lebanon closer while Frankie Clarke understood the assignment that is knowing when to heighten the dramatic lighting and when to hold back.
As a Lebanese Arabic speaker, one criticism I had was that the Arabic in the play was spoken in Modern Standard Arabic or formal Arabic. This is not how we speak in daily interactions, and the actors often spoke too fast in Arabic, rendering them unintelligible.
Co-writers Emily Ayoub and Madeline Baghurst capture the moment of return and embrace the moments that come after, from the heartbreak to the surreal to the artefact to Amelia holding a mirror to her life and perception of reality.
While the dialogue often felt metaphorical and didactic (“crossroads” being the answer to a hint in Joe’s crossword), the concept of standing at the ruins, exposed and surrendering yourself to the past, which came from Arabic poetry, was well evoked.
Nevertheless, I was left wanting more after the 50-minute runtime flew by and I remembered that I had to check out of the Hotel Palmyra and return to Sydney.
On my way home from the Belvoir, walking past the Byblos Lebanese restaurant in Surry Hills and listening to ‘Ila Beirut Al Ontha’ by Nancy Ajram, the words of Nizar Qabbani rang in my ears: “If Lebanon dies, I die with it.”
In that way, Amelia and I aren’t so different.
This one is for every Lebanese person who feels stuck, scared or in a state of ruin. I hope we all remain intact and standing tall like the temple of Baalbek. Our past, present and future depends on this.
RUINS أطلال is playing at the Belvoir’s Downstairs Theatre until October 20.
