Mahfuz Abdelrahman’s Adaptation of An Inspector Calls by J.B. Priestley: An Exercise in Transposition

Introduction:

  Mahfuz Abdelrahman’s theatre belongs to the so-called Arabic Literature of disillusionment – that is to say, the loss of the optimism that accompanied the 1952 Revolution. Born to a middle-class family in 1932, Mahfuz Abdelrahman grew up in a small town in Lower Egypt, where his father worked as a police officer, to learn at first hand the suffering of poor people in rural areas. Moving with his family from place to place in Egypt as his father’s job took them, Abdelrahman learnt how power worked in the provinces from a very early age. His talents matured early in life, taking the form of articles in newspapers and short stories revealing what the young man, along with his coevals, believed what their country needed most, namely freedom from foreign domination and even-handed economic policies. This resulted from the atmosphere of the period:  King Fuad I controlled the government, tampered with the recently adopted constitution and  worked with the British colonial power to entrench his newly acquired authority as Egypt’s first King, following the demise of the Ottoman Empire and the Caliphate system in 1924. The official system under monarchy was capitalist, although a small socialist party was permitted, and the British occupation was regarded as the major evil which united the Egyptians in opposition. The relative freedom of speech allowed did bear fruit, in the form of the 1952 coup d’état. Still, even though the coup was supported by the majority, some of those who had fought to put an end to inequality in most fields felt betrayed. As much as the coup was hailed as a liberating movement declaring an end to the era of slavery, what the people felt was the opposite, as no one was allowed to leave the country without the signature of the Prime Minister.

Meanwhile, the socialist minister of culture was working to ensure a flourishing culture industry. He wanted plays to be staged, then televised. In few years’ time, a reasonably large audience was created. Some actors, directors and dramatists formed their own companies, creating what we still refer to as the commercial theatre. Theatre became a means to say what one wanted to a live audience. Writers made use of this medium to express ideas they could neither publish nor broadcast. Their favourite material was historical, taking a historical incident and making it reflect their view of the present. In Arabic, this was called Isqat, meaning “projection. An example might be a play where the protagonist betrays his comrades, getting rid of them one by one until he finally has all the power in his own hands, as Nasser did to the members of the Revolutionary command council and emerged as sole ruler.

It was safest to present historical events as though the writer had only historical veracity in mind, while infusing the characters with whatever feelings and ideas he wanted the audience to receive. Still, Abdelrahman al-Sharqawi’s play Al-Hussein the Rebel was deemed too inflammatory, It was neither the first nor the last time that the regime was ‘afraid’ of a stage play.

The defeat of 1967 had a devastating effect on young writers, as they had pinned their hopes on the power of the leaders and the Egyptian army. While the defeat could never make them abandon their high ideals, revived in a speech after speech by their leaders, most of them realized that the fault was historical, part of the Arab system of government down the centuries. Mahfuz Abdelrahman was shocked by the revelations that followed the defeat. But like most writers, he still had hopes that the people could rise again.

Mahfuz Abdelrahman left Egypt in 1972 after Nasser’s era and during Sadat’s new era: the latter declared that he would rid the Egyptian people of fear by controlling the secret police and allowing political parties to be formed, in contrast to what Nasser had done. Abdelrahman went East, to Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, where newly-discovered oil enabled Gulf governments to create a thriving business for television drama. He found in the new medium a means of honing his skills as a writer. Armed with knowledge of history, his work attracted large audience throughout the 1970s. Television studios were established in many Gulf countries, especially for the now-popular television soap operas. Actors and actresses often abandoned the theatre in Egypt and went to the Gulf to work in those studios. Writers also competed for a share in the flourishing industry, but Mahfuz Abdelrahman outstone them all. He towered above all aspiring television authors with his taut dramatic structure, and the perspicacity of his vision. How Beautiful We Are! Represents his work at its best after his return to Egypt in 1978.

Abdelrahman wrote many one-act plays and long plays published and performed in most of the theaters of the Arab countries, where he invites the reader and viewer to enjoy the beauty of language and the flavor of history with his dramatic text, and well-written characters. Abdelrahman draws upon historical material. He takes from history and pours into a contemporary realitythat teems with intricacies of the past.

Six of Abdelrahman's plays used political projection. After plays written in the seventies, other texts followed in the eighties such as: Planet of Mice, Beware, How Beautiful We Are! and The Trial of Mr. Meem.

How Beautiful We Are! is an imitation of J.B. Priestley’s play An Inspector Calls. The form of the play How Beautiful We Are! perfectly suited the dramatic purpose of the author, as he could use a traditional Arab soothsayer as the equivalent of Priestley’s police inspector: This character is, in other words, made to carry out the work of inspector Goole, without being trammelled by legal obstacles. The theme of the play is, of course, fratricide and allied sins which must remain hidden at all costs once the perpetrators are in power. The author may or may not have had a specific incident in mind, namely the fact that an ancestor of a present-day Arabian country had risen to power by stabbing his two siblings to death in bed. To ensure that this historical fact not be evoked, Abdelrahman develops a convoluted plot far beyond sibling rivalries. In fact, the situation is not dissimilar to in King Lear where family ties are distorted. Everybody in the ruler’s household is driven by the primal instincts of power and lust (here called ‘love’) so that both motives, deep within each, are finally allowed to (or made to) surface by the mysterious fortune-teller who, we find out in the end, is only an illusion.

How true to history, and to Arabian history in particular, this plot is, may be difficult to establish. At one level it may appear to be a modern dramatic handling of the ‘power passion’ that marked most eras of Arab history. The convolutions of the plot themselves are a reminder of the typical anecdotes told by the people about their rulers; this is an integral part of political life in the Arab world. Whenever a new king or a new ruler comes to power, tongues will wag revealing or inventing conspiracy theories about everybody involved in his accession, and, when the theories proliferate, someone pretending to be truly ‘in the know’ comes forward to paint a strange picture of the ruler and his immediate family and entourage. There will be those ready to spin many an amusing yarn about the ruler and others unwilling to believe them. So the best way is to have an ‘inspector call’, in the guise of an illusory fortune-teller, and let the main characters speak for themselves.

This is, of course, the advantage of the dramatic form, especially as it takes here an ostensible ‘whodunnit’ structure. As often happens in an Agatha Christie novel, all the characters in this play are brought together and each is made to reveal his role in the intricate plot. Abdelrahman proves to have full mastery of this form: gradually he makes each character contribute to the unveiling of the truth, until the entire ruling ‘power house’ is shown to be guilty. Behind it all, of course, were the revelations about the private lives of members of the ruling clique in Egypt since 1952. Stories of the riches amassed by some of those army officers are recent history; the confessions of I’timad Khurshid, a woman of doubtful repute, were published in the 1970s revealing the darker side of the ‘honourable’ members of the junta, especially the intelligence services. In real life we cannot have them put in one room to speak for themselves; but in drama we can. The fortune teller comes carrying his predictions about the future. The Wali, the princess Saphar, Usher and Tanweer are discussing with him certain matters but he gives his own introduction.

Fortune-teller: Honourable assembly, I know a great deal, and if you are all ears, a long time will pass before I lapse into silence; but this is only on one condition: that no one ask me how I knew, otherwise I am wholeheartedly ready to answer your questions. My guess is that you won't pose any. I am rather surprised that you want to see me in the first place, since what I am going to say yon already know quite well. The past is imprinted in your stored memories. I am not of those who fabricates stories about the future for all that, I think my presence is not required! But you may feel content because someone was able to pull aside the curtain on some of what has been buried, Just an entertaining skill, but in fact I don't think it's funny, furthermore, my gracious masters and gentle ladies, I'm afraid you will not be amused.

Wali: An excellent introduction by a devious charlatan of a new kind.

Fortune-teller: An insult that I do not deserve from his royal highness whose heart trembled when I came in.

Wali:            (Angrily) Me? Afraid of you?!

Fortune-teller: This is the first secret to unlock.

Princess:      Do not be angry my Lord, it is not our habit to lose our temper unless with those who deserve it, and this man has come to alleviate the boredom we are dying from. Obviously he can, because he is different somehow and this is good.

Fortune-teller: Your highness, if you wish I could tell you what you ate during these past few days? (How Beautiful We Are! pp.136-137)

The beauty of How Beautiful We Are! is primarily its dramatic irony; the revelations, however grave, do not seem in any way ugly; they do not affect the semblance of beauty of the ruling house, so long as its members are willing to brush them all under the carpet. So they pretend in the end that the soothsayer never arrived; that nothing has been revealed; that it was all a scam, and a wicked one at that. The contrast between what ‘we really are’ and what ‘we appear to be’ will never be shown, as power hides all, just as time will heal all such wounds as have occurred one evening as a result of a playwright’s fantasy.

An old woman: Although I came from far way, I know you well. I am aware that you want to hear a false story. I know you want to hear an exciting imaginary noble story as if adorned with gold and watered with nobility. You want a story that roams the country and causes the heart to tremble; how beautiful the heart is when it sadly shivers, deep down just before sleep.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 132)

Part of the beauty of the play is due to this irony, but the play owes also much to the quasi-realistic form Abdelrahman adopts. It allows him to recreate situations with their pent-up passions from the past: in a single one-act play we have many revelations and genuine reactions. Using the vital dramatic method of immediate action, often called the immediacy of action, the author re­creates a living past in delineating the so-called ‘beautiful’ picture of the present.

An old woman: Therefore, I'm here to tell you the story of a perfectly happy man. He is a prefect to an emirate, and rules it with justice, but unfortunately his people think otherwise. And I will tell you about his wife, the happy princess: how could she be otherwise when she rules the big emirate? If she rules well, she reaps the praise of the people, and if she does not, it is her husband who is to blame. I will also tell you about the minister of this emirate, the man who serves his master day and night to obtain his satisfaction, I will further tell his story and how palaces can be lonely places. My purpose is to tell you about happy people, shining with nobility, speaking wisely and riding the steed of justice day and night, and how wonderful and beautiful they are.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 132)

A master stroke at the end makes these revelations go back to the past: The characters have forgotten them, or should forget them, as nobody knows anything about them apart from the immediate participants in the action. This is what they tell the audience, asking them to forget, perhaps to forgive too, but the audiences already know that what they saw was real, and many of them can neither forget nor forgive.

Mahfuz Abdelrahman as a dramatist manages to prepare the reader, or the audience, for a creative play reflecting the beauty of language and the greatness of history, depicting issues and themes that carry the longing of humans on a journey in search of dignity, freedom, and justice. Abdelrahman attaches more importance to issues related to human suffering such as justice, humanity, and collective consciousness. He presents these with a coherent plot, using poetic dramatic dialogues to achieve his aim. The play opens with the Wali talking to Ushar about his worries regarding the country; instead, he is worried about his crown.

Wali: I am terribly worried about this country, Kaffi, I care for its prosperity and glory. However, some of my boys are messing around in the mountains and impeding my progress. I know it's nothing more than kids fooling around but I would like to know that this folly is driving half of my army to distraction, eating half of my resources, and disturbing my peace, of mind. I think they couldn't do anything without the support of this Badr El Bashir who is misleading them and dragging me into a war high in cost, and cheap in victory.

Usher:          It has cost us a lot so far, but now need not cost us more than one Dinar: the price of the dagger Badr El Bashir is to be stabbed with, sleeping peacefully in his remote den.

Wali:            That means they have been infiltrated by one of your men.

Usher:          I found it difficult and instead I recruited one of them.

Wali:            Do you trust him?

Usher:          He is his friend, and there is none more vicious than one friend turning against another.

(How Beautiful We Are! pp. 134-135)

How Beautiful We Are! is about lying and betrayal in order to gain power. In a clear nod to Hamlet, a man is prepared to kill his brother and make love to his wife for the crown. Even the wife betrays her husband with his brother, who marries his wife to become king. Shakespeare is still our contemporary.

An old woman: I came from the oldest ages after all I am a lover of days of yore. I lived in the time of Cain and Abel, and witnessed how brother killed brother, and still does.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 131)

In his dealing with the issues of human desires and the search for dignity, justice and freedom, Abdelrahman invites the reader and viewer to enjoy the beauty of language and to savor history.

An old woman: This evening, I came out of my cold solitude to tell you a story. I shunned the company of people in search of wisdom, but apparently wisdom may neither be found amidst crowds or in the wilderness.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 131)

Abdelrahman says: “History is my realm where I find a place for my feelings, thoughts and characters that teem with life. It's a real pleasure to write history and project its symbols on reality.” (My translation, Idris, Shreen, 2016) The old woman in How Beautiful We Are appears to be not only a narrator but a kind of personification of literature itself:

I came from between the covers of a book; my diversion is to impersonate the eloquent storyteller, Scheherazade. But even in books, all is vanity and vexation of spirit. It’s said there’s nothing new under the sun. Scheherazade tells stories to amuse you, then the story startlingly stops! How could I ever find words that bring joy to the heart of man, provided they are as clear as a dewdrop?

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 131)

Now the character of the seer emerges to reveal their own never-to-be-hidden reality. Everybody is in search of their own interests and pleasures, from the maid and the minister to the governor and the Queen. It's a state of conflict to reach power, where everyone lies and hides his or her faults in order to keep up appearances in front of the other.

An old woman: As for that seat of power, it is no longer an amusement now that fathers and sons have fought each other over it.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 132)

Characters are able to conceal their underlying motives with the help of masks that hide their malicious reality, from all save the seer, the main mover of the events and the mirror revealing the truth of each character.

Lighting is used to communicatemeaning in many scenes, especially when facing the realityof each character. Sound effects, are also used to great effect, avoiding the traditional ready-made music during the dramatic conflict and revelation of intentions. Add to this the use of smoke, which was not a commonly used effect at the time.

The curtain rises very slowly and maybe with a creak-like sound of an antique door and through a dim light that increases very slowly and during the events of the first part of the play we are faced with a situation that holds secrets within it, that should not be known but for what we are going to see.

                (How Beautiful We Are! p. 133)

The general atmosphere at the beginning: the light, music and motion gives the impression of the calm before the storm and when the curtains rise, Wali will be busy talking to his Usher, Kaffi.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 134)

The decor is appropriate to the nature of the characters that live in the shadow of power, in terms of their level under the throne, while costumes are a mix of ancient and modern. He depends upon the role of the Samarqand fortune-teller to predict the future of the Wali and the Princess. Tanweer trusts his words and Usher is welcoming him.

Usher: I’m keeping a big surprise from you.

Princess:      Out with it… Knowing that you’re setting something up will certainly amuse me even though you are preparing nothing and you’re only making us eager for a worthless thing.

Usher: There is an excellent Fortune-teller outside.

Princess: Oh Kaffi, how wonderful! Nothing is closer to the heart than the truth that lies hidden.

Saphar: Your highness, some Fortune-tellers are skillful, have you forgotten the Samarqand Fortune-teller? He surprised us with his words about our past, and some of what he said about our future did come to pass.

Princess: Do you think so? (To the Usher) Bring in your man, he could be a good liar … who knows, we are in need of entertainment.

(Exit Usher)

Saphar: Lots of them lie, but the Samarqandi didn't tell a single lie.

Tanweer: Damn him, he said I would fall off something high, then I fell off my horse.

(How Beautiful We Are! p. 135-136)

Abdelrahman began his career in 1975, concluding it with the play Belqeis presented by the National Theatre after the so-called “January Revolution” of 2011. This drew on the articles of top critics in Egypt and the Arab world. Perhaps the motivation for the work was Abdelrahman's concern about issues of the Arab individual and his or her relationship to government systems, as well as invoking history in a contemporary context in order to open the debate on current issues, in elegant language.

Abdul-Ghani adds, Abdul Rahman's characters have turned into patterns or functions, as he depicted every person in such a manner that makes of him or her a type. In other words, he did not follow the style of developing a person into a character, by virtue of the dramatic construction he had chosen. But he failed to provide the social dimension of each style, as characters fall short of convincing expression of their roles… The idea of resistance.

(My trans., Ewais, Mohammed, 2013)

It is important to look innocent and honest in front of the community!

Perhaps what I like most, in general, in this text is the fact that it fits almost all times when humans make mistakes and try to entomb them into their inner self or oblivion. Then they appear in front of others looking completely different as if crying How Beautiful we are! though, of course, they bear no trace of beauty, but their appearance may reflect so. What is important is to keep up appearances in front of the community, people or country and others. (My trans., Bakeer, Amal, 2008)

He lies for power and the throne; he kills, or tries to, for this same reason, whether or not he was able to carry out what he intended. Similarly, the minister lies and will do anything to cling to power, be it murder, theft, etc., even if the people closest to him were killed. The princess looks beautiful and chaste while she betrays her husband, Prince Sultan with her lover, the  husband of her maid. The maid also has an Achilles heel. What matters is that all these sins are revealed, disclosed to all by the ghost, sage, or seer who elicits their confessions. All are convicted in front of everyone. The flaws exposed are not foibles but deadly sins: not merely avarice or opportunism, but the willingness to kill in order to reach their goals. In the end, everyone is in a hysterical state, but.. after all... How Wonderful We are!

The most important characteristic of Abdelrahman is dealing with myth in a transparent mystic sense. Abdelrahman projects his fancies on myth or history, tapping into the collective memory in order to cut through to contemporary political issues. Critic Abdul Ghani Dawood maintains that: “The works of Mahfouz Abdelrahman confirm politicizing the content, which is not in isolation from reality and theoretical difficulties. They seek to clarify its relationship with reality, but indirectly chosen for itself. His plays are of a political nature and offer a different theater” (My trans. Idris, Shreen, 2016).

The parallels with An Inspector Calls are direct yet the differences in setting and, most importantly, culture and politics, make of How Beautiful We Are! a masterful adaptation. An Inspector Calls is a three-act drama that takes place on a single night reflecting “the prosperous upper middle-class Birling family” (Gale 2004), who live in a comfortable home in the fictional town of Brumley, “an industrial city in the north Midlands” (Priestley 1947). Priestley wrote in the mid-1940’s and set the play in the Edwardian era; in contrast, Abdelrahman elected to set his play in the much more distant past, in order to distance himself from any parallels with current events, while Priestley had no such restrictions. Still, it is significant that both playwrights set their plays in the past, although the reasons could be interpreted differently: Priestley, by starting with Birling’s monologue about the ‘unsinkable’ Titanic, is evoking the audience’s prior knowledge to create dramatic irony. Meanwhile, Abdelrahman is obliged to create a world of kings, queens and soothsayers to avoid the censor’s pen. Inspector is built on a fantastic framework of a detective mystery that has hints of the supernatural. The action of the play occurs in an English industrial city, where a young lady commits suicide and a respectable family is subject to a routine investigation and inquiry about her death. An Inspectorcomes to interrogate the family revealing that all the members of the group are implicated lightly or deeply in the girl’s undoing “A mysterious inspector interrogates a wealthy English family about their responsibility for the death of a young working class factory girl” (Cousin 2007). The visit of Inspector Goole, who questions the whole family about the suicide of a young working-class lady called Eva Smith (also known as Daisy Renton) reveals that the family has been responsible for her exploitation, soc