Malta Arts Festival - Don't cry for them Argentina

There must be an explicable reason why Maltese theatre works in English very often sound a lot more convincing when they tell a story that unfolds in a foreign field, rather than when set against a typical Maltese background that culturally and palpably cries out for the vernacular. Vince Vella's The Pardon Beggars on the intimate St James Cavalier stage as part of this year's Malta Arts Festival was one other such example that goes further in giving credence to the innate privilege of bilingualism accorded to most Maltese authors.

Mr Vella's brave incursion into the post-Falklands War (1983) situation in Argentina, when the vicious military Junta that had ruled the South American republic for seven long years had to finally relinquish power in an atmosphere of humiliation, instantly reminded one - geographically, culturally and politically - of Francis Ebejer's Bloody in Bolivia, way back in 1975, in which the great late playwright portrayed the state of utter distress on the part of a group of British citizens caught in the Bolivian capital of La Paz under its umpteenth military Junta.

That's where the similarities end, though. Mr Vella weaves an emotion-packed drama based on the catastrophic aftermath of the Argentine Junta's final debacle as its well-placed, well-connected remnants secretly regroup to salvage what is left of their influence and credibility in the country. While some of the fascist leaders of the time were happily tried and jailed, many others were left untroubled and free to switch to civilian life as if their part in the bloody events and horrendous atrocities that had taken place under their spiteful regime were but an ugly memory to be forgotten in the name of "national reconciliation".

Luckily for the people of Argentina, there were others who could not and would not tolerate the obvious attempts "to placate the military and thus prevent further uprisings". They were correctly not prepared to let Argentina cry for those perpetrators of one of the blackest periods in Argentine history, especially at a moment in time when the nation was desperately trying to re-establish itself within the democratic world.

Mr Vella spins a finely-tuned, certainly not unlikely human story from the thousands that had undoubtedly occurred during that same traumatic time. His punches come out clean, his vision remains undisturbed as he skilfully delves into the miserable story of 33-year-old Soledad, the daughter of a minor military officer and, as one of many tormented children of middle-class parents obsessed with expiating the sins of their fathers, a "pardon beggar".

The author taps Soledad's rebellious nature by way of having her dealing with her own, pathetic father and the old regime's surviving curator and his obedient thugs. In possession of information and photographs which would have further diminished the old Junta members' hopes of survival until the next call to "national salvation", she finds solace in Cora, the lesbian anti-fascist agitator, right up to the play's dramatic, albeit somewhat predictable, ending.

Chris Gatt's seamless direction made full use of the intimacy of the theatre to integrate with the audience. The actors are, literally, at arms' length with their breathing, their screeching, their kissing and their ranting, almost becoming a part of the whole ambience. It is a theatrical experience minus the gimmicks of props and non-stop-pops. Even the winching up and down of the steel cage that stood for Sol's gloomy cell seemed all so natural.

As Soledad, Pia Zammit gave an energetic and vibrant performance that matched perfectly with Coryse Borg's Cora. Electricity was in the air when the two women united in purpose, innuendo and inevitability.

Manuel Cauchi, as The Voice who later emerged as the cold-blooded protector of the fascist dynasty, thundered into every subsequent crescendo with his usual forceful characterisation and his incredible stage panache. Set against all this was the familiar expertise in the art of understatement from John Suda who, as Soledad's father, Edgardo, put in a perfect rendition of the pitiable, subservient puppet of the old Junta as he hopelessly tries to reconcile family loyalties with the horrible aberrations of his political masters.

In his cameo part, Jonathan Mackay, as the Thug, was as amusing as he was strikingly efficient in dealing with the poor Soledad.

Ebejer would have loved it, as he would have loved Mr Vella's projection of this sad period of turmoil in Argentina, that volatile country that has, over the centuries, given the world its fair share and amazing variety of notorious dictators, "saintly" icons and mesmerising footballers.