Life is a stage...
Actor and director James Falkland lived and acted very well. KAMAU MUTUNGA looks at the life and times of Kenya’s celebrated theatrical director credited with making Phoenix Players, Africa’s only repertory theatre, what it is.
The doyen of Kenyan theatre was enjoying his afternoon siesta on that fateful afternoon when Anthony Kinuthia, then an aspiring actor, descended the 22 steps down to the Phoenix Player’s theatre for an auditioning in 1999. Kinuthia had done his homework on what not to do. For starters, the doyen was never to be roused from his catnap. Neither did he take kindly to be called “Mr” or worse still, “Sir”. In short, James Falkland, one of Kenya’s most celebrated thespians who died of cancer last week aged 70, despised formality.
And on this Monday evening, I descended the same staircase into what was Falkland’s sanctuary—his kingdom. Kinuthia was seated where Falkland directed the affairs of Phoenix, Africa’s only repertory theatre. The wooden pale yellow bed covered in red was still there.
And it was from here, that he would rise his strong and craggy patrician frame to meet budding thespians, dressed in his trademark faded red T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Phoenix Players”, a green shirt whose pockets bulged with small note books, faded trousers several inches shy of the ankles, and brown suede mocassins or gym shoes. Falkland was the quintessential artiste who lived by the beat of his own drum.
“His dressing normally appeared worn, but not worn-out,” recalls Kinuthia, “It was more in keeping with his down to earth demeanour, just the way he hated being called Mr Falkland for which he would dismiss you with some dagger looks and the “F” word, adds Kinuthia, “So we nicknamed him Foki, short for Falkland; but he preferred Jaymo — sheng for James.”
And Jaymo, who to first timers cut a harsh, complex profile, rarely conducted theatre matters in the office. He preferred the auditorium, where he would seat on the edge of the stage, a steaming cup of heavy, almost sugarless coffee, and packet of cigarettes an elbow away. That was where Kinuthia found himself that afternoon in 1999.
“He gave me a few lines of a script to read and act. He told me I was very talented,” recalls Kinuthia. And that was how the veteran funny man and budding director got to act in William Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, which consummated his love affair for the stage.
And he was just one among hundreds of raw talents who, under Falkland’s visionary tutelage, became luminaries not only in local theatre, but also in film, radio and television. Among them are: Jimmi Gathu, Lorna Irungu Charles Kiarie, Cyrus Gikori, Edward Kwatch, Tichi Nyasani, Caroline Odongo, Cajetan Boy, Angela Ndambuki, Teddy Muthusi, Jacquiline Andere, Steve Muturi, Winfred Gitau, George Mungai, Doris Mayoli and Ian Mbugua, Phoenix’s current director.
They all listened to him in revived and revised attention. Falkland polished them all. They all still harbour similar impressions of their teacher, counsellor, father figure and mentor, albeit in varying degrees.
“When I first met him I thought he was a wild, mad man,” remembers TK Kitana of his encounter with Falkland in 1996, “He was talking to himself and throwing scripts all over he stage. Later I learnt that he was mentally reconstructing the scenes of a play.”
Kitana was one among 250 hopefuls who were awaiting to be auditioned for a role in Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical, Joseph and The amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat.
“He always looked for that “X” factor in a budding actor. He always re-auditioned rejects, and chose the promising ones who would be panel beaten into perfection. Out of the 250 people who were auditioned that day, he chose me for a drinking treat at the Professional Centre bar. It was his way of getting to know people, and for them to open up,” says Kitana.
But Falkland was more than booze and buzz, plays and prose. As Caesar said of Cassius in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: “He reads much; he is a great observer, and he looks quite through the deeds of men.” And so was Falkland.
“He was a psychiatrist. When an actor had a personal problem, he could tell, then counsel him. He liked things that made him think, like complex crosswords, and he could discuss anything, from King Louis III to all chapters in the Bible. He was witty, entertaining and very sharp,” says Kinuthia.
This is the persona he took everywhere, including the Professional Centre pub, which he always visited before calling it a day. But even then, there was still a thin line between acting and his real life.
“He drank his Tusker lager while talking and gesturing to himself, memorising lines and scenes” says Earnest Masinde, a barman who first met Falkland in 1984. He was later to audition Masinde for a barman’s role in a play.
“He drew people to him and there was business when he was around,” recalls Masinde, with rheumy eyes, “His absence was noticeable since he didn’t behave like a mzungu. Sometimes he gave me his bank account number to withdraw him money, which he was too generous with. He once paid school fees for my children, and when he learnt that I was selling my cow to pay him, he wrote off the debt.”
For strange reasons, artistes perennially live on the broke side of life. And most recalled the many times he advanced them money. But if it became a habit, an artiste would be dismissed with another string of “F” words, as Falkland could get a little coarse on the tongue.
But was his acclaimed harshness real, or just another act?
“He was harsh, but not in a malicious way, and very demanding of what he wanted. For him, you either you got good or rotten, but nothing in between,” says Lorna Irungu, who first met him in 1992 during the auditioning for Fire Raises.
“He once forced me to look at myself on the mirror with my script the whole day while rehearsing for Anton Chekov’s, Uncle Vanya, just to get the mind-set required to project the intensity of the character’s loneliness. He made me cry and feel like quitting theatre many times. But he was a wonderful teacher and special mentor. I got the first Performing Arts Scholarship Award in 1996 courtesy of Falkland, without whom, I would never have been half of what I am today,” appreciates Lorna.
Same as Cajetan Boy is undoubtedly, Kenya’s most prolific playwright. “He encouraged me to write, Benta, which became the first local play to be staged at the Phoenix. That changed my life. It made me the writer I am today. Benta has not only been published, but is currently being shot into a film,” says Boy.
Falkland was a slave driver who knew what he wanted, adds Ian Mbugua. This was evident in Falkland’s riveting and immortal performance of King Lear, Shakespeare’s emotionally strenuous dark tragedy, where Lear’s misjudgment of his treacherous daughters, brought his gradual madness and eventual downfall.
“To get the energy to play King Lear, a character who literally disintegrates into madness on stage, Falkland quit smoking for three months. Quite a feat for someone who smoked two to three packets a day,” says Mbugua, who first met him in 1987 during the production of the musical, Kiss Me Kate.
To Falkland, a great drama was the memento of the adventure of a master among the pieces of his own soul. And he required of his cast, while allowing them to develop their own characters, the same sublime acting where the controlled intensity of every gesture, every raised eye-brow, stage presence and diction had a purpose.
Falkland left a cherished mental collection of many plays which he either acted or directed: Hamlet, Othello, Educating Rita, The Artful Widow and the musicals, Changing Generations, Aspirations and Ayenka! which he wrote in collaboration with composer George Mungai.
To him, theatre was like life. “You get out of it as much as you put in. And in theatre, you put in 100 per cent.” When asked how he wanted to be remembered in 1999, Falkland said: “...I suppose I would like with to be remembered as that crazy man, who with others, just tried to keep the tradition of repertory theatre going on in Kenya.”
And sure he did. With more than 300 productions to his credit at the time of his swan song, Johann Nestroy’s subtle drama, On the Razzle in November 2002 at Phoenix. Falkland was cremated in a private ceremony on Tuesday last week. Unlike the dramas he directed, in death, Falkland required no farce. A celebration of his life and legacy will be held tomorrow at the Professional Centre and the Phoenix Players auditorium respectively from noon.
“Falkland created an environment for artistes to expose their unusual talents, filled it with his infectious passion, humility and sense of perfection, yet most didn’t get to thank him,” laments Eddy Mbugua, whom Falkland cast in Joseph in 96.
“His impact is all over, But Falkland never received the respect and recognition that he deserved, quips Irungu.
Well, Falkland, who was cremated in a private ceremony on Tuesday last week, didn’t care two hoots. And unlike the dramas he directed, in death, he required no farce. A celebration of his life and legacy, will be held tomorrow at the Professional Centre and the Phoenix Players auditorium respectively from noon.
As he taught them all—”the show must go on!”
