ACCLAIMED British actor Raj Ghatak has consistently dazzled audiences with his expertly crafted performances in major theatre productions.
His latest venture is The Producers, currently running at the Menier Chocolate Factory in London until March 1, 2025. This freshly revived production of Mel Brooks’ iconic show, backed by a stellar creative team, promises to entertain and delight audiences.
Eastern Eye spoke to the versatile performer about his passion for theatre, his role in The Producers, and the enduring appeal of this classic comedy.
What do you most love about theatre?
Theatre provides an incredible escape – it takes you on a journey, letting you experience something entirely different. A great production has the power to touch, move, and inspire. It allows you to leave the day’s stress behind, laugh, cry, and be transported to a magical space. I’ve experienced that magic, and it’s incomparable.
How do you usually approach a new stage character?
I start by reading the script and making notes. Everyone has their own process, but I like to come prepared with ideas and remain responsive in the rehearsal room. Theatre is all about collaboration, and working together towards a shared goal is a rewarding experience.
How do you feel about joining an iconic show like The Producers?
It’s incredibly exciting. I remember watching it on Broadway and in the West End, so being part of it now feels like a huge milestone. The Producers has a legendary reputation, with 12 Tony Awards on Broadway (a record) and three Olivier Awards in the UK. Being part of its first revival since 2005 is both daunting and exhilarating.
Tell us about your role.
I play Carmen Ghia, the flamboyant assistant to renowned theatrical director Roger DeBris. Carmen is a comedic character with sharp wit and some iconic moments. He’s unpredictable, and that makes him such fun to portray.
Why do you think The Producers remains a timeless classic?
It’s all about the writing. The book for the show is written by comedy legends Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan, who really know what they’re doing. The music is breathtaking, and the combination of comedy, deliberate bad taste, and a self-deprecating look at the theatre industry ensures its timeless appeal.
What is it that you love the most about this show?
I absolutely love the humour. After all the challenges and hardships we face, a show like this provides a welcome escape and uplifting joy. The cast is immensely talented, and working alongside them has been such a joy and privilege. It’s been wonderful to be part of something that spreads so much laughter and positivity.
Raj Ghatakwww.easterneye.biz
Do you ever get nervous before going on stage?
Yes, I feel nervous while waiting in the wings. It’s an intense moment when everything feels heightened. But as soon as I step onto the stage, those nerves disappear. Rehearsals prepare you well, and once you’re in the moment, everything falls into place.
How does performing comedy compare to other genres?
Comedy demands skill just like anything else. There’s an art to delivering a joke and nailing comedic timing, especially when paired with song and dance. In The Producers, the audience’s reactions vary, creating a dynamic conversation between us and them. This connection makes comedy a particularly rewarding genre. You’ve performed in several West End productions.
What makes them special to you?
The West End represents the pinnacle of British theatre, renowned for its unmatched production quality and calibre. Whether it’s a grand musical or a thought-provoking play, the West End offers theatre at its finest. I’ve been fortunate to perform there multiple times, and the thrill of it is unbeatable.
Why should audiences come to watch The Producers?
The Producers offers an unforgettable night out. You’ll laugh, be amazed by the cast’s performances, and enjoy incredible music, choreography, sets, and costumes. It’s a spectacular extravaganza that you won’t want to miss.
The Producers is on at Menier Chocolate Factory, 4 O’Meara Street, London SE1 1TE until March 1, 2025. www.menierchocolatefactory.com
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Gurpreet Kaur BhattiHelen Murray
Actresses Kiran Landa and Anoushka Deshmukh in a poster of Marriage MaterialHelen Murray
Milli Bhatia
Khaled Hosseini
The poster of the stage adaptation
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5