A moment from Ramnidhi

The 21st century has already spawned quite a few new Bengali groups, following the genetically-inscribed Bengali trait of doing plays. Some, like Ekush Shatak, formed as a result of that other long-standing tradition in Bengali theatre ? disgruntled artistes splitting from older troupes and getting together. Others, like Ekusher Ayna, involve young blood fresh with enthusiasm. The latest productions of both these units comprise adaptations of classic British drama that, in turn, had given birth to two classic films.

At first glance, Ekush Shatak?s Ramnidhi, written by Partha Chatterjee, will not strike anyone as originating in foreign climes, more so because they do not acknowledge it. But the resemblances to Peter Shaffer?s Amadeus (cinematised by Milos Forman) are unmistakable.

Chatterjee presents the doyen of 19th-century toppa, Nidhubabu, as seen through the eyes of his jealous competitor Kriparam Sau, and laments elegiacally the passing of one genre for another. Just like Amadeus is not so much about Mozart as about his rival Salieri, Ramnidhi really centres on Kriparam.

Just like Mozart, Nidhubabu manifests divine inspiration, while Salieri and Kriparam personify musical materialism. Just like Salieri slips away with Mozart?s scores and schemes to poison him, Kriparam steals Nidhubabu?s notations and plots to destroy him.

Both admit defeat, ultimately. Notice also the similarities in titles: both Shaffer and Chatterjee use the lesser-known names of Mozart and Nidhubabu respectively.

Regardless of the fact that Chatterjee has not credited his inspiration, the play is well mounted, deserving the award that it won recently. Runu Chaudhuri directs the principals in classy performances that include wonderful live singing scored by Murari Raychaudhuri.

While Apurba Ray excels in soaring toppa vocals as a spiritually inclined Nidhubabu, Shyamal Chakrabarti shows stronger histrionic prowess as the disturbed Kriparam, but they balance each other perfectly.

Chatterjee?s feeble attempts to inject a subaltern perspective and have unnecessary fun at Raja Ram Mohun Roy?s expense fade away in comparison.

In Ekusher Ayna?s Just Is..., Bhaskar Sen Gupta renders Agatha Christie?s Witness for the Prosecution into Bengali quite faithfully, retaining the unexpected twist in the tale towards the end.

As in the original, it becomes a star vehicle for the accused?s wife and his defence lawyer. It is obviously too much to ask for acting of the quality of Marlene Dietrich and Charles Laughton (in the film), but their equivalents here put in a jolly good effort, aided by the resonant voice of the public prosecutor.

However, director Biswajit Dev Roy should pay attention to the production values: Chhatrapati Dutta?s set design of everything wrapped in tin foil looks very tacky, apart from making crackling sounds whenever the cast sit on it. And the hackneyed, jarring musical extracts on the soundtrack are more appropriate for TV serials.