Theater Review: Letters of Suresh Is Existential Art
What is worse? Never trying for what you love or trying and failing? There is a certain safety that comes with never chasing your dreams and, instead, following “What Ifs” in your head because, it is there, that dreams come true, but reality is a double edged sword; even if you do get what you want, you will, probably, realize your desire is not exactly as perfect when realized compared to when dreamt. I bring you this existential crisis because Letter To Suresh was one of the most beautiful, impactful plays I have ever seen to perfectly describe what it is to age and wonder why you did not grow.
Directed by May Adrales and written by Rajiv Joseph, this 90 minute play, with no intermission, immerses you into the very real fear that hits you as you begin tip your quarter life crisis to tilt into your inevitable midlife one. Instantly, we feel for Ali Ahn’s Melody, of which the actress the character an embodiment of a very real, creeping fear: regret. I truly believe that our relationship with time is, in part, why we never try for our dreams. We see youth as a brief landscape for opportunity, and, once gone, there is nothing to visualize fore yourself or go for. Melody is a teacher to writers, but has stopped for herself more than a decade ago, and the idea that she could be an author feels laughably cruel to her until she read the Letters of Suresh (Ramiz Monsef).
Playing until October 24 at Second Stage Theater, located at 305 W 43rd St, New York, NY 10036, Ramiz’s role as Suresh leaves impression because we see almost two decades of his life flash before our eyes and, in turn, see ourselves. We all go through the periods in our life where we doubt everything: ourselves, society, God, Life, Death, family, choices, and the many things in-between. Yet, Suresh’s loss of his mom while being defined as an origami prodigy and genius leaves him torn. Here is encouraged for his intelligence and unique talents, which included being able to pick up projects and crafts easily, like origami, but death has taught him, at 16, that what you can do does not, necessary, prevent what can happen to you. For a young boy that believes in technicalities and facts such as, science and math, death transforms him because it inexplicable, random, and feels oddly preventable despite being inevitable. Thus, it feels that he would find a pen-pal in the form of a priest,Father Hashimoto (Thom Sesma) , trying to escape his feelings over death through God.
While, for most of the play, we never see, Sema’s Hashimoto, he gives us the most moving scene on what it is to live your life believing in a higher power, not simply because it is “God” but because you are. In a world that cries for apologies but does not believe in forgiveness, weeps over its own lack of kindness and compassion while feeling it should not show it, and call for change without being it, Hashimoto’s relationship with God is really about comforting himself to know he did his best, despite all his losses. In that sense, Suresh, Melody, and Amelia, Suresh’s lover played by, all find that living your “best life” is a constant choice filled with many journeys, which makes a dream come true an option until you die.
