LÜKÜS HAYAT (“The Luxurious Life”)

We were walking up from Küçükçiftlik Park, and posters for a concert that day were everywhere. Most people were heading to the concert, and for a moment we felt a little sad. Then we spotted a small poster: “Lüküs Hayat, Istanbul City Theatres.” The scene in front of the open-air stage made me very happy. The crowd and the queue to get in were at least as big as the concert’s, a sign that theatre is finally getting the attention it deserves.

We barely made it inside; I can still hear the attendant saying, “I’m closing the doors, last five minutes!” I sat where I had a good view of the stage. The first thing that caught my attention was the set. It reflected the atmosphere of the 1930s, with an Ottoman air: pink shutters, a wooden table, wooden chairs. The play began slowly, carried by the mystical spirit of this atmosphere. It opened with the world of the külhanbeyi, the street toughs of old Istanbul who make a living from petty theft. Rıza and Fıstık: these two truly had us in stitches as the play went on. I was especially amazed by Zihni Göktay in the role of Rıza. Like an heir to the late Suna Pekuysal, and regardless of his age, he gave an energetic, tireless performance, as if it were his very first play. More than amazed, I would say he showed me what it really means to be an artist.

Lüküs Hayat

Scenes from Lüküs Hayat…

Rıza and Fıstık brought to life a scene from the back streets of Istanbul at the time. The themes were the usual ones: making ends meet, lovers and spouses. But one thing I noticed was how the play had been adapted to the present day in every scene; it had moved away from the jokes and dialogues of the original period. Zihni Göktay’s jokes as Rıza still ring in my ears: “Mortgage when you buy, ‘mortgone’ when you pay,” “Residence, American door, French kitchen, Italian wardrobe; only the land is Turkish,” and “What kind of Istanbul is this? Not a single street has been dug up!” Seeing it adapted to today made it all the more enjoyable. Fıstık is a completely different character: next to Rıza’s quick, cunning, swaggering young man, he is naive, pure and not much of a thinker. Whenever the two were on stage together, laughter was inevitable.

Now to the “Lüküs Hayat” crowd, the real theme of the play: Turkish families of the time who were under the influence of Westernization. From their clothes to the way they wake up and go to bed, their lifestyle is entirely French, English and Italian. Nobody seems to have told them what really goes on in the French suburbs, but they are very happy in their luxurious life.

Things Get Complicated…

In a waterfront mansion on the Bosphorus, the master and mistress of the house are struggling financially, yet they refuse to give up their luxurious life and keep on partying. Still, they need to find a way out, so they decide to throw a ball. They will invite their Egyptian relatives, famous for their wealth in gold and jewelry, as well as Rıza Bey, who is said to own half of Zonguldak. The ball must be perfect and no expense must be spared, so that they can sell the house to their Egyptian relatives and marry their younger daughter Nesrin to Rıza Bey from Zonguldak. That is their plan to escape their financial troubles. But Nesrin has a lover of her own. And when our street tough Rıza and his gang add their plan to rob this famous house to the mix, things become more and more complicated and exciting.

Lüküs Hayat scene

The Knot Unravels…

Things take such a turn that Rıza and his gang, who break into the house to rob it, find themselves right in the middle of a masked ball. All the guests think they are rich people dressed up as street toughs, and of course they take our Rıza for Rıza from Zonguldak. The funny part is that our heroes came in to steal the jewelry, but the house is so glamorous and tempting, and they have such conversations (partly thanks to our Rıza’s weakness for women), that they forget all about the robbery and throw themselves into the ball. On top of that, the real Rıza from Zonguldak has had far too much to drink on the way; noticing this, our Rıza’s friends lock him in the coal cellar. So our Rıza becomes the rich Rıza from Zonguldak. All eyes are on him, and he receives compliments in words he doesn’t understand. It feels like a dream; despite his friends reminding him of the job they came to do, he ignores them and makes the most of the situation. Nesrin was supposed to fall in love with Rıza, but contrary to all the plans, it is the wealthy Egyptian relative who falls for him, and they are very happy. The plot is so tangled that even describing it makes you think there is no way out, and the play leaves the untying of every knot to the next morning.

Morning comes, and everyone wakes up from the night’s drunkenness and exhaustion. One by one, everything comes to light. It turns out our Rıza is not the real Rıza, while the real Rıza complains about the poor treatment and neglect he received the night before. But the wealthy Egyptian relative, even after learning the truth, is so charmed by Rıza’s natural manner and wit that she accepts him anyway. In one scene, Rıza’s girlfriend from his old gang is left alone when he chooses the rich Egyptian: once he finds the money, he leaves his love behind. This scene reminded me how long Yeşilçam, classic Turkish cinema, has been using such scenes and endings, and how much weight Turkish audiences give to the choice between love and money; almost every Yeşilçam film I have watched has scenes and endings like this. Indeed, our play ended on the same theme: everyone ends up happy. Nesrin is united with the man she loves, Rıza finds someone rich, and Rıza’s ex marries his friend who had long loved her from afar but had no money. Only the master and mistress of the house still can’t get out of debt, and I can almost hear you saying “serves them right.” After all, by nature we always side with the poor and the downtrodden, don’t we?

Lüküs Hayat scene

As the Curtain Falls…

The play is staged in three acts. By the time we approached the end of the third act, the performance, which started at nine, had lasted four hours. It truly was a play that makes you think while you watch. And we must not forget the orchestra, the Istanbul City Theatres Orchestra. The musical numbers woven into the play kept us lively. I still can’t stop humming “Lüküs hayat, lüküs hayat, enjoy yourself and lie back,” “What do I need milk pastry for,” and “Ah berelim, vah berelim.”

Lüküs Hayat orchestra

I can’t say that theatre gets too little attention and deserves more, because the queue at the entrance and the packed seats proved otherwise. In fact, not much has changed since the 1930s; we are still fighting the same battles between change and tradition, between Westernization and returning to our roots. We will shoot many more films, write many more articles and stage many more plays about these struggles. But it is hard to say whether another work will ever portray them so beautifully and stay alive for so many years. Thank you, dear Ekrem Reşit Rey, for giving us such a play.