Words by India Farnham
How do you say goodbye to someone who never truly understood you?
Immediately after arriving in India and just moments into Ramesh Meyyappan and George Mann’s Last Rites, Arjun, the show’s main character, is confronted with his late father’s body.
In a dark room, amid a heavy, immovable silence, we watch as Arjun comes face-to-face with the tension that divided him and his father both in life, and now, in death. His father never learnt how to sign, and so Arjun, a Deaf man, could never truly communicate with him.
Tasked with performing an ancient Hindu funeral ritual that was never passed onto him, Arjun, played by the expertly expressive Ramesh Meyyappan, grapples with the immense responsibility of readying the body for cremation and how to explain it all to his own little boy. As Arjun cleans his father and begins to recognise him again (placing his glasses onto his head, Arjun signs “Now that’s my dad!”), we embark on a shimmering, non-verbal journey that tracks the complex relationship between a father and son who could never truly enter each other’s worlds.
Notably, Meyyappan’s performance and his embodied use of both ASL and BSL is so rich and physical that the fact this show is a one-man production becomes something of an afterthought. No imagination is needed as you watch Arjun lift his father’s head to clean his neck; the invisible becomes tangible, weighted, and the presence of this unseen character becomes undeniable. Skilfully morphing from vulnerable child, to bold teenager, to an entire cast of characters beyond himself (the austere teacher, the cheeky school-kid best friend, the overly-loving aunty) Meyyappan moves seamlessly alongside a beautifully produced, bass-heavy soundscape and large-scale creative captions. This delightfully slick combination of clever staging techniques means this show is fully accessible to Deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing audiences alike, something that is a testament to the unwavering commitment of theatre company Ad Infinitum to representation and access within the arts.
While the pain and hurt wrapped up in Meyyappan’s performance feels remarkably personal, the disconnect between a man and his father that we see in this show has universal resonance. Traditions and beliefs that seem irrefutably right to Arjun’s father are impossible to understand for Arjun, becoming looming and warped in their incomprehensibility. Generations differ, experiences differ, and without understanding, we can become detached from our heritage.
Indeed, it is the concept of understanding that shines as a powerful force for good in Last Rites. When Arjun discovers Sign Language from a friend at school, he is astounded and enchanted by his ability to be understood by a peer. The result is one of the most joyful moments I’ve seen on the stage in a long time, with the two friends spilling over their words, playing around with signs and letters and eventually discovering that the sign for L also looks like a cowboy’s gun (big news for any little boy). As a hearing person, this served as a much-needed reminder of what a privilege it is to have grown up being unequivocally understood, to have grown up always seeing a glow of recognition on the faces of my peers.
Beneath their turbulent relationship, there is a warmth between Arjun and his father that glimmers quietly in Arjun’s gentle and respectful treatment of the body. There it is, again. Understanding. It’s all we really have. So, bring yourself closer to Deaf culture and to Sign Language, challenge yourself to learn a little, to understand a little more. Reach out to your loved ones. Listen to them – whatever that means to you. And, if nothing else, book yourself a ticket to see this wonderful, completely unique piece of theatre.
Last Rites is showing at Bristol Old Vic until 19 July. Book a ticket here.
Read our interview with Ad Infinitum’s co-artistic director George Mann here.
Images by Mihaela Bodlovic
