With an ornate chandelier, a black and white checkered floor, a couple of imitation Louis XVI chairs and a mirrored drinks station, the setting for this farcical drama is undeniably affluent, undeniably nouveau riche. A mounted and framed pair of army cargos, at the centre of this middle-class milieu, however, disrupts the façade, hinting at divisive force.
The cargo trousers are a relic from Joe’s (Fana Mokoena) days as a member of the armed struggle. It is a history that he cherishes, it’s a source of pride – as he reiterates, “I gave this country its freedom.” This achievement has generated a sense of entitlement, which has ultimately manifested in the well-to-do suburban home he shares with his wife, Pretty (Zandile Msutwana). Not all of his comrades in arms have been so fortunate: his one-time commander, Jack (Sello Sebotsane), is out of a job and out of money when he arrives on Joe’s doorstep, demanding his rights to the victor’s spoils.
Unfortunately, there are no openings at Joe’s building empire, and so he hires his old comrade as a driver and general dogsbody at his affluent home. This is how Jack enters into a dysfunctional domestic setting, where he will become a pawn in a vexed game of cat and mouse that defines relations between Joe and Pretty.
While Joe and Pretty seem to be living the life, with their beautiful home and succession of fancy cars, the two are miserable. Their sex life is non-existent and their frustration with each other is projected onto arguments over the smallest domestic affairs. In this way playwright Monde Mayephu suggests that South Africa’s new middleclass might appear to have it all, but that these material riches do not necessarily translate into emotional fulfilment. In other words, the spoils of victory are hollow. Despite being able to observe this reality at close hand, Jack and Pretty’s cousin, Julia (Lerato Mvelase), who has worked for the couple as a maid, are eager to relieve this warring couple of their status and wealth. They hatch a plot that sends this already troubled household into a meltdown.
This play evokes the battle between the country’s new elite and the growing mass of disgruntled have-nots, who hold this group accountable for their continued impoverishment. This theme is reiterated through Pretty’s supposed subordination of her cousin, Julia. Although she is a qualified researcher, Pretty hasn’t made any attempt to help her move up from her lowly station in life. You have to wonder, given that Pretty is educated, why she hasn’t done this for herself. Mayephu could be suggesting that this pervasive sense of entitlement has somehow nullified the have-nots sense of initiative and self-determination. However, as Julia and Jack become pawns in a contest of one-upmanship between the couple so, too, have the have-nots become puppets in self-serving games of the elite. Within this context the majority can only access empowerment by toppling the powers that appear to be standing in their way.
Julia and Jack believe they can only attain their goals by removing Pretty and Joe from their faux Louis XVI thrones in their well-appointed home. A forceful domestic coup d’etat ensues, which evokes the violent take-over that Jack and Joe participated in years earlier when they fought to overthrow the apartheid state. Not only is history repeating itself but violence remains the only tool for transformation. It’s an eerie statement.
Of course, the relationship between comrades in the post-war, post-apartheid era remains a pertinent sub-motif of Play Me. Both Joe and Jack attempt to trade on their old affiliation and push it to the limits. Jack’s willingness to betray his comrade, Joe, is connected to his belief that Joe has betrayed him by not sharing the ‘‘spoils of their victory’’. Ultimately, Mayephu suggests that nothing good can come of this historical bond.
In his rendering of the haves and the have-nots, Mayephu is equally disparaging. Both sides are shown to be materialistic and shallow. Neither party has earned their position either: Pretty inherited a company from her father and Joe simply married into the business. Jack and Julia steal this company from them. Therefore, Mayephu implies that the value-system that determines the lives of these four characters is skewed. Why do Jack and Julia desire to assume the lives of Pretty and Joe, when it is clear their lives are empty? This play serves as warning of the (bloody) outcome of a lust for material greed.
Play Me is an amusing farce that at times teeters on the ridiculous. It is not the level of absurdity that detracts from this play’s worth but rather the many glaring holes in the storyline. For example, Joe asks Jack whether Pretty is right for him when he has only met her a seconds earlier. Why does Julia perform the agony of rape when she wasn’t victimised? This play has the makings of a great theatrical number; the script simply needs to be refined.
It is exciting to see the conditions of South Africa’s emerging society put under the microscope for a change – after years of reassessing the impact of the past. Nevertheless, while the plush setting evokes a new milieu, it is clear that the past casts a dark shadow – not only in the violent manifestations of dissent but the re-enactment of domination in the domestic setting.
lPlay Me is at the Market Theatre until May 1.