The fault in my dinner

Faulty Towers, a supper-theatre experience based on John Cleese’s hit TV show, proves to be an entertainer.

At the Faulty Towers experience. Photo: special arrangement

Basil Faulty is very British — neatly pressed tweed jacket, tie in place, hair neatly parted, stiff upper lip. And he absolutely cannot pronounce Indian names. The line of guests waiting to be seated can barely recognise their names when he calls them out and refuse to respond to him. And to make matters worse, little Manuel who does respond but doesn’t quite understand, proceeds to help.

You can see Basil get a trifle hot under the collar but he swallows and proceeds to paste on a somewhat watery smile. It is the beginning of the evening and he has to put up with his guests for at least two more hours. Two hours full of laughter, fun and good food. (Though unfortunately I couldn’t eat much—more on that later.)

Welcome to Faulty Towers, a dining experience based on John Cleese’s hit TV show of the seventies,

Fawlty Towers . The performance, staged by actors from the Australia-based Interactive Theatre International and produced in India by Balancing Act Productions, in a supper theatre format, saw a hilarious interpretation of the original at the Taj Coromandel.

Basil Faulty flits about, trying to conceal his misanthropist nature with fake salutations while his wife Sybil’s warmth is more natural. She is also much louder — the shrill, breathy voice, gaudy black-checked jacket, big hair-do and bright pumps attract attention like a matador to a bull. Speaking of which, little Manuel attempts to emulate one (matador not bull) by climbing onto a table and waving around his napkin very energetically. Homage to his Spanish origins, perhaps?

Dinner begins. Soup is served — a rather bilious looking number which surprisingly tastes pretty good. Good, until I discover a pair of dentures in mine, that is. Though Basil fishes it out deftly and replaces it with another bowl, it does put me off the soup completely. It puts me off dinner too, in fact, though the beautifully-plated chicken looks delicious. Curt Basil, striding around, urging people to finish eating and forcibly clearing tables doesn’t help either.

There are some interesting situations — most of them resulting in Basil-Manuel conflict. A rat, a pair of panties, a fire hydrant, bread-rolls and a thousand rupee note cause differences between the two that end up with Basil chasing and physically mishandling Manuel who attempts to avert bodily harm by cowering under tables, hiding behind guests and appealing to Mrs. Faulty as a last resort. And Basil, bully though he is, is petrified of his wife — their exchanges, which mostly consist of her giving him a dressing down while he murmurs insults under his breath, also raise a few guffaws.

The play isn’t earth-shatteringly innovative — a derivative of the television show that doesn’t deviate too much from the original. And since it unwinds based on audience reaction, it does feel a little tame at times — the crowd isn’t unwelcoming, but rather reserved, and not too many people opt to put themselves out there. But then again you can’t go too wrong with slapstick, straight comedy peppered with plenty of double entendres, loads of energy and some relatable, if clichéd, funny situations.