The times seem oddly propitious for a semi-documentary, musicalized narrative centering on the tumult kicked off on January 25, 2011: that is, the mass demonstrations for “bread, freedom, and social justice” which ended the reign of hated Egyptian strongman Hosni Mubarak while ushering in still more repression that continues today. We Live in Cairo possesses obvious relevance in light of the current rise in hardcore nationalism worldwide. Artistically, too, the premiere at A.R.T. in Cambridge, Mass. seems a logical product of its time.
Consider developments in the musical genre just in the seven years during which first-time-writer siblings Daniel and Patrick Lazour have been laboring. Come From Away demonstrated that serious world events can be musicalized without being trivialized. The Band’s Visit suggested the commercial viability of Middle Eastern rhythms and instrumentation, while Dear Evan Hansen and Be More Chill proved that social media passion can be effectively channeled into real-time on-stage behavior. None of which is to accuse the talented Lazours of aping those shows, just to say they made it easier for a Cairo to come into being.
Cairo‘s true progenitor, at least in act one, is Rent, in the presentation of six ragtag, up-against-it pals straining to rebel. Call it Rent with higher stakes and a stronger sense of purpose, as the group or cell or whatever they are takes to the streets and the media (remember Mark Cohen’s ubiquitous videocam?) in strident rallying cries.
From time to time our kids settle in for a quiet moment, as when Christian composer Amir (Jakeim Hart) composes a lovely ballad on guitar for new Muslim flame Layla (Parisa Shahmir). (That’s rather Rent-like, too.) But act one is mostly nonstop energy, particularly in Samar Haddad King’s propulsive choreography, equal parts rave stomping and sensuous writhing. And there’s a spectacular visual effect in set designer Tilly Grimes’s unrolled white muslin ceiling, on which video whiz David Bengali projects contemporary protest images. An extraordinary 360-degree immersion is created; for a moment you truly feel part of the life force occupying now-legendary Tahrir Square.
I confess I found act one, ending with Mubarak’s downfall, bordering on the monotonous. Though director Taibi Magar keeps things moving, the script insists that the unrelievedly earnest characters keep shouting at us in slogans, throwing all their rhetorical punches early and repeatedly. After intermission, however, history gets more complex with the election of controversial Mohammed Morsi, leader of the Muslim Brotherhood, to the presidency. As Egypt’s governance falls apart, We Live in Cairo starts coming together.
Group fissures inspire challenging dialectic. Amir’s brother Hany (Abubakr Ali) insists a free election’s results should be respected, while firebrand Fadwa (Dana Saleh Omar), still smarting from prison torture, rejects any compromise replacing one tyrant with another. Meanwhile, family connections to the Brotherhood threaten the friends’ bond with Hassan (Gil Perez-Abraham), especially in the hint—a very, very timid hint—of same-sex attraction to fellow graffiti propagandist Karim (Sharif Afifi). There’s a death, a disappearance, and more imprisonment ahead, and We Live in Cairo finally earns the emotionality that’s generically taken for granted in the show’s first half.
I can imagine compulsively listening to the score were it to be recorded. Its lyrics are not without eloquence, and the melodies possess a smoky languor in the orchestrations by celebrated veteran Michael Starobin and co-author Daniel, heavy on percussion and the captivating strings of the oud. The cast is exemplary, with Ali, Perez-Abraham and Hart making the strongest impressions by virtue of the more nuanced roles they’re handed.
A military coup removed Morsi, giving way to a cycle of violence and repression which even now shows little sign of ending. In light of it, the Lazours’ tactic for an upbeat finale is to embrace love of country, and to recall the impulses which made an impossible revolution happen in the first place. “Hold your head up, habibi, you’re Egyptian,” one character counsels; sings another, “We still have our hands,/We still have our names,/We still have our past,/And time sprawling in front of us….We’re not surviving,/We’re living here.”
The idea that love and generosity endure, and retain the potential to bring about progress, could offer solace to all those peoples of the world convinced that their status quo is hopeless. Including our own.
We Live in Cairo opened May 22, 2019, at American Repertory Theater (Cambridge, MA) and runs through June 23. Tickets and information: americanrepertorytheater.org
