Man Without a Country

Raging against the father who abandoned her, and furious with her long-suffering mother for wasting her life while awaiting his return, Rebecca burned Dawid's early poems, which he inexplicably left behind. (A banned poet starts a new career abroad by neglecting to take all of his writings?) Near play's end, Marta, chastising her daughter, expresses directly and eloquently the source of Fugard's anxiety, which is very possibly the source of this play: "For your soul's sake, Rebecca, I hope you know that what you did was terribly wrong. What you turned to ash and smoke out there in the veldt was evidence of a man's love, for his country, for his people -- for you! Don't reject it . . . Rejoice in it! Because if you think you and your New South Africa don't need it, you are making a terrible mistake."

There's a side to this speech that's as elegant as it is elegiac, and there's another side that's disconcertingly self-pitying coming from a writer of Fugard's stature. As though he doesn't fully appreciate all that he's accomplished. Or perhaps he does, and fears that a new generation won't. Someone as wise as Fugard must surely know that he was propelled to greatness in large part by the historical circumstances of apartheid. But as South Africa evolves, its pre-eminent dramatist harks back in time, and at an ever increasing remove. Nothing of the country's AIDS epidemic, unspeakable poverty, dubiously governed Truth and Reconciliation Commission nor the hideous persecution of trade unionists finds its way into the hallowed cloisters of Sorrows and Rejoicings, even as a passing reference.Fugard's newest play could be subtitled "Don't Reject Me," an understandable plea from a certified sage, though also a stumble from grace.

SORROWS AND REJOICINGS | Written and directed by ATHOL FUGARD | At the MARK TAPER FORUM, 135 N. Grand Ave., downtown Through June 30