There is a very telling scene in Mustapha Matura’s stage production Play Mas when
Samuel (Seun Shote), an apprentice tailor, insists to his employer Ramjohn
(Johann Myers) that Ramjohn is not African but Indian. Ramjohn, a descendant of
indentured workers, refutes this claim in the firm belief that he is Trinidadian. It
is all played for laughs but underneath it is the painful story of how the island of
Trinidad was populated first by African slaves and then by Indian and Chinese
indentured workers.
First premiered at the Royal Court in 1974, Play Mas is set in Port of Spain in the
late 1950s in the days leading to the annual parade when the inhabitants of the
island ‘play mas’: dressing up as figures from cinema, history and folklore during
the days before Lent. Samuel, who is looking forward to the celebrations, is
aghast when Ramjohn admits to never having attended one. They also discuss the
small percentage the country makes from its own mineral wealth and the rise of
the People’s National Movement (PNM) who came into power following the end of
British rule led by Eric Williams, whose lifesize photo is seen on stage along with
advertising billboards typical of that era.
Play MasThe pair also competes for cineaste status, with Ramjohn dismissing films
that Samuel has seen and he hasn’t as inferior while championing those he has
seen in the belief that his tastes are superior. The topic then switches to how to
make the perfect suit. Ramjohn elaborately describes what one would look like
before telling Samuel of his plans for his own shop independent from his mother
Miss Gookool. Ramjohn is a dreamer, weak-willed and too in thrall to his mother
to even defend Samuel when she unfairly sacks him for wanting to attend a PNM
meeting.
This repartee takes up the bulk of the first section of the play and seems a rather
elaborate set up for the second, which is set in 1963 and lasts under forty
minutes after a twenty-minute intermission. There is now a power shift in Samueland Ramjohn’s relationship, but this second section is more preoccupied with how
Samuel negotiates his new position. New characters are introduced. His prima
donna of a wife (a hilarious Lori Barker) and a delegation to plead for
continuation of Mas led by Mrs Banks (Llewella Gideon in good form).
With such a lengthy setup in the first half, one would rightly expect a more
fulfilling second half – perhaps through a deeper mining of the racial tensions
touched on in the first, which contains one of the most charged scenes in the play
during Samuel’s face-off with Miss Gookool. Part of what holds the play together
is Matura’s winning humour, played with precise timing by its two leads. Comedic
acting might never get the prespect it deserves, but for those who appreciate the
level of skill required, Shote’s and Myers’ performances are formidable. Each
actor’s non-verbal tics, if watched closely, are just as funny as their lines of
dialogue.
With humour prioritised over a more searching observation of the implications of
self-rule and the racial hodgepodge of the island, Play Mas sits on unequal legs.
But this is all admirably teased out in a fine production by Paulette Randall which
makes for an enjoyable evening. Hopefully, its success will encourage more
revivals of Mustapha Matura’s plays.