Karma Rayen Panday

Karma marks a major step in Rayen Panday's artistry: he dares to be more personal than before, for example by talking openly about his relationship with his Hindu faith. He links the dilemmas and doubts he faces with sharp, personal anecdotes to sketch a universal portrait of the searching, fallible human being, who determinedly but in vain tries to come to terms with his own inadequate morality.

Panday is quite funny, effortlessly connects with the audience and alternates lame jokes and unexpected twists smoothly and skillfully. He also does not spare himself: armed with a truckload of self-mockery, he stands on stage. It is almost impossible not to see the endearing Panday as a good guy, but in Karma he occasionally breaks with that reputation. That sorts an interesting kind of discomfort with the audience, who Panday happily lets swim around in their moral confusion.

Certainly towards the end of the performance, the amiable comedian increasingly creates space for vulnerability. This results in an emotional and fragile ode to his director Wimie Wilhelm, who died suddenly last year, with whom he initially worked on this performance. Panday shows himself to be genuinely displaced here, which retroactively provides the entire performance with an even deeper charge and meaning.