At a time when so many believe in letting it all hang out on social media, you'd think there's no way to hide. But it is this very ephemerality of knowing people through what they choose to present on their handles that creates the possibility of deception. Then, there is what American showman PT Barnum is believed to have said, "There's a sucker born every minute." This forms the basis of Douglas Carter Beane's delectably titled play, AS BEES IN HONEY DROWN, which Anahita Uberoi has directed under the Aadyam umbrella.
Before this 1997 play about a spinner of phoney dreams, was John Guare's acclaimed play SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION, about a Black man who cons wealthy New Yorkers into believing that he the son of star Sidney Poitier; more recently, there was the astonishing case of a woman called Anna Sorokin, who pretended to be a German heiress and defrauded dozens of people (a Netflix series Inventing Anna was about her), and the even more daring cheat Simon Leviev- The Tinder Swindler- who preyed on gullible women whose accounts were emptied out as they dreamed of a fairy tale romance with a wealthy diamond baron.
Why did nobody check their credentials, readers and viewers wonder. But they never imagined the power of desire- for fame, love, wealth, glamour- that the perfect trickster correctly reads in their mark and uses it to manipulate them.
The truth may be staring them in the face, but they do not want to see it-or how could a woman with the obviously fake name of Alexa DeVitre cut a swathe through the ranks of the almost famous, to whom she sold the possibility of real celebrity.
Alexa's (Shikha Talsania) latest target is novelist Dhruv Gandhi (Aditya Rawal), whose book has received enough attention for him to be featured-shirtless-in a glossy magazine. Alexa, claiming to be a jetsetting music producer, meets him at a five-star coffee shop, promising him a large sum of money to write a script on her life. She addresses the server by his name, giving the impression that she is a frequent visitor. Her con is quite ingenious- she is advised by her CA not to get a credit card, so she gives Dhruv the cash, and he pays by his card (today, there's online payment, but let that pass). The same method is used in a high-end clothing store, where Alexa buys him a suit, and a little something for herself.
The middle class Dhruv is innocent enough to be flattered by her exuberant compliments, dazzled by the glimpse of the lifestyle Alexa offers-the musicians she takes to a nightclub, the socialite she chats with, and boat ride they take to a party, during which she makes him throw his old clothes into the sea, leaving his old life behind. She airily dismisses his questions about the obvious fibs she has told him. Even though he is gay, her tragic story about her husband's suicide, makes him fall in love with her, and they end up in bed in a swanky hotel room. The next day, she disappears, leaving Dhruv with a large bill to settle.
That was Alexa's modus operandi, honing on an artist, writer, musician just on the threshold of fame, desperate to get into the charmed circle of stardom. Unlike her other victims who ignore the scam- either because the money is not that much, or because they do not want to admit that they were cheated-Dhruv is obsessed with the idea of revenge and decides to hunt her down through a trail of her other victims.
The adaptation by Akarsh Khurana could not paper over the problems that come with updating Beane's 1997 original, but then placing it in the present gives it the advantage of satirizing today's shallow influencer “fame without achievement” culture, more pronounced today than it was back then.
Uberoi's production is understated yet eye-catching, with judicious use of video imagery to enhance a scene. The five actors who play multiple parts- Ashwin Mushran, Tavish Bhattacharyya, Meher Acharia Dar, Chakori Dwivedi, Zeus Paranjape-have more fun than the leads. Aditya Rawal is convincingly gauche, and Shikha Talsania puts on a posh voice and fluting laugh, but is let down by her styling-those severe schoolmarmish dresses do not help convey the femme fatale-ness of the character.
The play is humorous, with many witty lines, but not too many laugh-out-loud moments, since everything Alexa has done, the trail of disappointment and heartbreak she has left behind, is tinged with sadness. Mumbai audiences may enjoy it more than others, because they live with the everyday superficiality of people who are famous for being famous; those who name drop with impunity, and hang on to the coattails of celebrities. With the first con she pulls, Alexa understands that the more brazen a lie, the more believable it can be-like looking up who was at an event, claiming to have met them there, certain in the knowledge that people will rarely admit they forgot someone, and will seldom pass up an invitation to be seen at a happening show. Everybody must have encountered an Alexa at some point in their lives-even if they were not scammed, they must know that but-for-the-grace-of-God feeling. It is with a knowing smile that the audience watches the naïveté of Alexa's victims.
(Deepa Gahlot is a journalist, columnist, author and curator. Some of her writings are on deepagahlot.com)
