In the show, Ġużi, like most gentlemen, aspires to nothing more than to be his wife and daughter’s ideal protector. He is a lonely 70-year-old man who has nothing else better to do with his life than to chug beer with a constant vacant look in his eyes. However, this toxic routine prevents Ġużi from addressing the agonising memories of his past.
“Life continues until he runs out of beer and most importantly… money,” explains Schembri.
“Now he must face his plain-spoken daughter who vehemently detests him. What do they have to say to each other now that he, bereft of choice, has to face a brutal reality? Under what conditions did Ġużi want to protect his family in the past? And considering all this, what will change in his relationship with a feeble-minded prostitute who visits him from time to time to alleviate his pent-up pain?”
It’s a dramatic show that raises issues of untamed toxic masculinity, patriarchy in Maltese society and domestic abuse which Schembri believes need to be talked about more often and more openly. He has chosen to write the show in Maltese, his mother tongue, as he finds it gave him maximum creative freedom. He also believes in the use and preservation of the language wherever possible.
The story is set in Ġużi’s house, and the performance space will be crammed with empty beer bottles, discarded clothing and other detritus that “mirror the state of our antihero’s distorted mind and soul,” he continues. “His most trusted companion is undoubtedly the fridge/mini-fridge/picnic cooler where he chills the soothing beer.”
The cast comprises three actors: Michael Tabone, Alison Abela and Claire Magro.
As Ġużi, actor Michael Tabone uses his manly voice develop his character’s off-putting nature and gives him a distinctively grumpy expression, Schembri adds. Yet, from an initial ambivalence or dislike, the audience feel sympathy for Ġużi as they see his vulnerabilities emerges alongside his masculine traits.
“Alison Abela brings to the table a nuanced portrayal of Anna, a broken daughter who has been deeply let down by her father who was once her childhood,” he continues. “Her facial features convey strength and independence, but are subtly betrayed by her piercing, pain-filled eyes.”
Claire Magro’s character, a prostitute named Sweet, serves as occasional comic relief, skilfully balancing the character’s simple-mindedness with the quiet mystery surrounding her troubled past. Her relatively tall stature provides an interesting contrast to the character’s childlike demeanour. The light-hearted touch she brings to the performance illustrates that humour can be found, fortunately, even in life’s darkest moments, says Schembri.
“The aim of this piece is to both tell a story and entertain, as I believe every artistic work should,” he continues. “However, without being patronising or didactic, I hope to explore issues that are often presented from only one perspective: many people refuse to consider the issues in this story – and turbulent childhoods, and strained father-daughter relationships – from a predator’s point of view. I also hope that the story’s resolution stirs up discussion on whether it is satisfying or yields a disquieting stasis.”
From June 5-7, Skeċċ: The National Festival of Short Plays will present a series of short new original theatrical productions, each lasting between 10 and 20 minutes, at Spazju Kreattiv.
This newly produced festival promises a unforgettable journey into compelling storytelling and theatrical innovation by providing a platform for fresh voices and emerging talent, fostering creativity and encouraging new perspectives within the theatre community.
