I was fortunate to be able to take this phenomenon a few steps further several times during my performances thanks to Anahita’s thorough knowledge of the culture. My favorite was the use of the ‘thumbs-up’ signal that signifies in the West that everything is “okay” or “Terrific!” It seems that most Iranians understand the West’s use of this gesture (as in Arnold’s final decent in ‘The Terminator’) and I had used it myself in various situations and conversations.
However, in Iran, the gesture connotes exactly the same thing as the West’s raising of the middle finger, known in some places as ‘flipping the bird’. At one point during the performance when Morgan is particularly thrilled with the ways things are unfolding in his life, he shouts out something like, “This is excellent!” and gives the moment a thumbs up. The audiences did not react audibly to the thumb, mostly out of politeness (I found Iranians to be an extremely polite people), but also likely mixed with embarrassment at such a public display of rudeness… and Anahita assured me that everyone realized I was unwittingly being extremely vulgar.
In accordance with the simple conceit that my character has just been born and must learn everything from the audience, I took the opportunity to explore this thumbs-up moment. As if sensing something, I would stop and look at my thumb, then back to the audience, my smile would transform into a look of confusion about what they were feeling, I would slowly lower my thumb until it was hidden in my palm as I suddenly filled with remorse I obviously did not understand.
It brought down the house. In the last few shows I began embellishing another unwitting thumbs-up moment with the Farsi word “Khafan.” Anahita had explained that it’s a word used by Iranian youth to signify something really fabulous, but actually means much the same as “wicked” and though not exactly vulgar, the use of the word is offensive and deeply disapproved of by the older generation. At a point during the play my search for a suitable expression of joy ended with a decidedly raunchy delivery of “It’s… Khafan!” accompanied by a ‘thumbs-up’. The immediate explosion of laughter, a mix of outrage and delight was overwhelming and in my confusion I immediately hid my thumb and sheepishly covered my mouth with the other hand. It was ‘Magic’ - “Stop-it-Bob-you’re-killin’-me” - and I have to say, it was really fun to perform!
Another addition to the play was based on a major political development that was unfolding during our time of performances. In Isfahan there was a general strike at the Grand Bazaar, the hub of commerce in the city. Merchants were protesting a 6% tax that had been levied on all goods sold. Protesters had spilled out onto the streets and the protestors who marched past our hotel were loud and passionate. When we arrived the next day in Tehran the strike had spread to the Grand Bazaar of that city as well. Though the press barely recognized it, it seemed very big news among the people… and it was repeatedly pointed out to us that the last time the Grand Bazaar had been on strike, it had marked the beginning of the revolution that brought about the overthrow of the Shaw.
I mention all this because it was very much on everyone’s mind at the time of the two performances of Morgan’s Journey at the House of the Artists in the heart of Tehran. Early on in the play, Morgan opens the presents he has received for his birthday and during the Tehran performances his second-to-last present was an official looking envelope; inside was a letter, which was read aloud and translated into Farsi:
“To Morgan. On all the gifts that you have received you must now pay…”
I then held up the page and asked, “What’s this?”
Written in large font in Farsi it read, “6% tax.”
When the laughter subsided (it took a while) I then asked the question I asked about all my presents – “Will it make me happy?”
Jeering can be fun too.
It seemed from that moment on the audience was definitely waiting to see what was coming next and at some point during the play, they began doing so in silence, something that was very intriguing for the Iranian theatre professionals I spoke with afterwards.
My experience as a member of audiences in Isfahan had been that the excitement displayed entering the venues of all of the festival pieces that we attended, continued throughout the performances. Members would eat, drink and converse their way through the evening’s entertainment. There was a constant hum of conversation, an occasional call out to a child who drifted too far away from the family as well as a constant, quiet rumble of movement as people shifted, stood or exited for refreshment or other facilities.
But in all of the relatively large halls where I played for 600 to a thousand people, (2,500 at the closing event) by the time we approached the heart of Morgan’s emotional dilemma leading to his subsequent death, it was “pin-drop city” silent… and personally, very moving. I was not alone.
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