“Dinner With Friends“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 5 August 2017

As part of Desert Wine’s Comfort Theatre Series, Donald Margulies’ Dinner with Friends was staged for two nights in August. Unfortunately, this was a dinner I would have been glad to sit out.

Firstly, the 7pm production was delayed due to technical problems. These were not resolved in time, and the dialogue kept cutting off whenever the microphones malfunctioned. Adding to the frustration is the fact the venue was cosy enough for the performers to go off-mic.

I am also disappointed in the one-dimensionality of the players in this production, since the work is known for how much its character discovers about themselves and each other as it goes on. The acting, too, leaves much to be desired. Matilda Chua’s over-the-top portrayal of the self-centred Karen is insufferable. In one terrifically awkward scene, Tushar Ismail’s Gabe and Aizuddiin Nasser’s Tom could not decide whether to greet each other with a handshake or a hug as they lunge towards each other in an uncoordinated fashion. There is little chemistry between the actors and it often feels like they are talking at each other, rather than to each other.

I was torn between feeling sorry and feeling embarrassed throughout the experience. On the one hand, it’s a pity that Margulies’ Pulitzer Prize winning play was not seen by more people; on the other, thank goodness it was just a handful of us who witnessed this hot mess.

While I encourage Desert Wine to continue pursuing their passion for theatre, I hope they will polish their skills so they can present the best of themselves onstage.

“Triple Bill“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 1 August 2017

I love the concept of Peer Pleasure. I first encountered it at the M1 Singapore Fringe Festival in 2014, and am happy it has since developed into a full-fledged festival that provides a platform for school groups to stage productions in collaboration with seasoned theatre practitioners. The theme for the 2017 edition of the festival is “The Other”, and Triple Bill explores the concept of alienation, both as a form imposed on an “other”, and as a state experienced by the self.

The first of the three performances is Nonsense. It is devised and performed by young people with Down syndrome and other intellectual differences, and it is impossible not to be moved by the courage of every single performer onstage and to silently cheer on their efforts. Nonsense is a story of people displaced by war. While the concept is pressingly topical, especially in light of increasing anti-immigration sentiments in the US and Europe, I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable throughout the performance. There is little clarity and coherence to the show, and I found myself asking what the audience is supposed to get out of the experience.

The next two performances – The Box by St Anthony’s Canossian Secondary School and How Did I Mess Up This Bad: An Analysis by Unsaid – are punchy. Each expresses a clear message: the former urges us to consider how young people struggle with issues of physical imperfection when they are inundated with images that are unrealistic, while the latter crowd-sourced stories and shows us snapshots of what it means to live with depression. Both performances deliver their respective messages indubitably. Each performance represents, for me, the power of the stage in helping audiences empathise and learn when the production is uncluttered and the message is straightforward.

As an educator, I see young people negotiating their place in the world and figuring out what they stand for on a daily basis. As an audience member, I am very heartened to see so many groups of young people care enough to come together and speak out, to leverage the spotlight and force viewers to think and wonder. To the performers in Triple Bill, thank you for reminding me that it is never foolish to hope.

“Boeing Boeing“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 27 June 2017

Boeing Boeing sets a clear flight path: to entertain the audience. That it does effortlessly. Having staged Boeing Boeing three times before, Wild Rice is an old hand at this. While every iteration is just a little different from the previous, by and large, the antics and jokes remain the same. In these economically and politically turbulent times, Boeing Boeing is a familiar and comforting experience.

The premise is simple: Bernard has three girlfriends, all flight attendants. He carefully maintains a calendar to keep them all happy and happily far apart. The troupe is completed by Rosa, Bernard’s long-suffering domestic helper, and Robert, Bernard’s university mate. What can possibly go wrong? Lots, obviously. Expect madcap antics, slamming doors, lots of running around, and more slamming doors. It’s clear that countless hours were put into rehearsals – the comic timing of the entire cast is impeccable.

Director Pam Oei’s familiarity with the material shows: the comings and goings of the different characters have been choreographed to metronomic accuracy and the flurry of feet and slamming doors keep the comedy rolling at a steady pace. She creates sufficient tension to keep me invested in what happens, but not so much as to curtail my enjoyment of the production. However, I also expected more from a female director helming the production for the first time. The 2017 iteration of Boeing Boeing is no less misogynistic than its predecessors, and that disappoints me slightly. The female characters are little more than tropes – whether they are materialistic like Ms SQ, or hopelessly in love and naïve, like Ms Air China.

That said, as with all farces, we’re not expecting enlightenment or great insight in Boeing Boeing. That is not at all to suggest that the production is not sharp: a standout line for me was when Rosa declared she’s more than a woman, she’s a domestic helper. While hilarious, the line also reflects an aspect of Singapore society that’s much less funny. The strength of Wild Rice’s production of Boeing Boeing is the authenticity of its adaptation to local contexts. Oon Shu An’s Ms SQ is everything I’ve thought about Singapore at various times: seductive, attractive, fervently nationalistic, flagrantly materialistic, and pragmatic to a fault.

2017 is fast shaping up to be the year Wild Rice gives new wings to old productions. This year, they are restaging La Cage Aux Folles, Boeing Boeing, and Grandmother Tongue. Both La Cage and Boeing Boeing are easy on the palate – the former boasting song and dance amidst spectacular backdrops, the latter a very accessible piece of comedy. Yes, it is true theatre does not always have to deliver hard-hitting truths and explore complex issues. At the same time, I can’t help wondering what Wild Rice’s choice of productions to restage suggests about audiences in Singapore and what attracts people to the theatre in Singapore.

“Forbidden City“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 12 August 2017

This is the fourth time the Singapore Repertory Theatre (SRT) and Esplanade are staging Forbidden City, a local musical with music and lyrics by Dick Lee and Stephen Clark. This is also the third time I’ve seen the production, and am heartened to have seen it evolve through the times.

Sheila Francisco and Kit Chan reprise their roles as the Empress Dowager at two different stages of her life. This year, Cheryl Tan also joins the duo and plays the younger Yehenara. To be honest, I exited the theatre after the first half feeling disappointed because I had expected Kit Chan,  based on the pre-show publicity. That said, Cheryl Tan is excellent: her voice is clear and she has the necessary stage presence. When she sings “My Only Chance”, there is enough hope and desperation to tug at the heartstrings. Kit Chan’s instrument has changed with age and when she belts out the big notes in “Why Dream of Love?”, it falls just short of a punch. In fact, compared to the other two actors playing Yehenara/Empress Dowager, I felt Kit Chan was, surprisingly, the weakest.

The ensemble cast does not disappoint. Steffanie Leigh’s portrayal of American painter Kate Carl is commendable. Her strong pipes fills the hall in the opening number, “Dragon Lady”. In her duets with Morrison, played by Earl Carpenter, she easily overpowers him and consequently, he comes across unengaging and rather dull. Sebastian Tan and Dwayne Lau also provide much entertainment as the court’s record keepers. They share good chemistry and work well to set the appropriate tone for the scene. In the first half, they are jolly and bring great energy to the stage; in the second half, they sombrely narrate the Hundred Days’ Reform and Boxer Rebellion.

Dick Lee’s music has come to be very familiar to Singaporeans. The music he has written for Forbidden City is melodic and rousing. The catchier numbers like “Starting with the Eyes” and “Summer Palace” share hummable motifs, while the emotive pieces like “My Only Chance” and “Why Dream of Love?” are deeply stirring. To me, Lee’s music is what makes Forbidden City a cultural icon in Singapore.

Forbidden City is a very competent musical: the set is nimble, the costumes are pretty, and the music stands the test of time, much like the Forbidden City itself. It is, in essence, a crowd pleaser. Given its popularity, it is little wonder SRT and Esplanade restaged it 15 years after it was commissioned for the Esplanade Opening Festival in 2002. It is a suitably grand gesture.

“Hansel and Gretel“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 1 July 2017

The one word I would use to describe Players Theatre’s Hansel and Gretel is “lively”. There is plenty of movement and action onstage, the set is visually arresting, and the puppetry work is engaging. I suppose that is to be expected for a production aimed at children and families.

In this retelling of the fairy tale, a crow is the narrator, a pair of wicked rabbits are the villains who lure the children to the gingerbread house, and an adorable gingerbread man is the main hero of the story. Much of the storytelling is done through puppetry, and the actors’ mastery of puppet work is commendable.

The set also complements the storytelling. In particular, the first view of the gingerbread house is magical: the oversized pieces of candy adorning the house look delectable, and effectively contrasts the danger and evil that’s found inside.

However, the show – which was staged as a part of the Opening Festival for Gateway Theatre – did experience several sound-related issues. The sound crew was a bit slow and the actors spoke without mic support on several occasions, and the witch’s voice sounded muffled for the second half of the show. I also feel that Caitanya Tan’s portrayal of the evil stepmother could have been better enunciated. My experience of her performance is a blur of slurred words broken by moans and melodrama.

What resonates with me is the production’s message that nothing is as it seems. The production turns conventions on their heads and depicts the villains as lovable bunnies. On the other hand, the crow – an omen of death – serves as the unlikely hero of the tale. Through the play, children are taught not to judge books by their covers or assume that cute bunnies will never lead them to death’s door.

The Q&A session after the performance also reinforced the theme and extended the discussion to theatre as a craft. In response to an inquisitive young member of the audience, the team recreated a scene involving a blazing oven and showed how each stage component – sound, light, props, actor – interacts with another to create a powerful, but ultimately imagined, event. It was a lovely reminder for me that the act of storytelling in theatre is really only completed in the mind of the viewer.

The performance brings to life a well-known fairy tale and could well be the first experience of theatre for many children in the audience. I believe Hansel and Gretel would successfully pique their interest and entice them to return to the theatre for more.

“The Car“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 7 July 2017

Verena Tay’s The Car is about a girl recollecting her growing years, exploring her relationship with her late father through ‘conversations’ with his beloved car. The Car is an emotionally charged ride: there are moments where you can almost feel the wind in your face, while other moments you feel as if your feet are leaden and your heart could cease. Throughout, there is love: the love amongst family, the love we demonstrate and the love we receive, love which elevates us and love which breaks our hearts.

Faizal Abdullah, who plays Car, has the unenviable task of literally personifying a piece of junk. While Car had its glory days, through most of the play, we see it as a sort of Creature to Father’s Frankenstein – a collection of parts held together by spit and goodwill. I was struck by how rusty Abdullah’s voice was rendered – kudos to Ryann Othniel Seng for exceptional sound design. The team also engaged dancer Lee Mun Wai to choreograph movements for Car. I enjoyed very much the physical subtlety with which Abdullah played Car; there were moments I expected to hear creaking joints as Abdullah lowered himself gingerly into ‘Drive’ mode.

The set is simple: stacked cardboard boxes Girl dismantles throughout the play, a physical manifestation of how her world must feel like it is being reshaped as she confronts her past to better understand her relationship with her father. The acting is strong throughout. As Car ages, Abdullah’s expressions casually transformed from a just-cocky-enough sneer to empathetic observer through the ages. Each actor also has to toggle between roles, and they do this effortlessly. In particular, Julie Wee’s portrayal of an eager Datsun drew giggles from the audience.

At the heart of The Car are three relationships: Girl-Father, Girl-Car, and Father-Car. Despite being only an hour, the production explores each of these three relationships deeply. Girl’s relationship with Father made me wonder if all girls have daddy issues; Girl’s relationship with Car represents for me the ugly side of love, when we act out in anger because we are smarting from what we perceive to be a lack of love; Father’s relationship with Car had me thinking about how much easier it is for some of us to demonstrate affection for objects than people. Essentially, the three relationships reflect to me my own perspectives about love. I left the show in a deeply reflective mood and will continue to chew over some of these ideas for some time.

Before the show, I had the privilege of speaking with Sabrina, a member of the Our Company team behind this production. She shared that everyone involved in the company has a full-time job and manages their production in their free time. In other words, Our Company is a labour of love. It is passionate teams like that which inspire me; these are encouraging times for theatre in Singapore.

“Tango“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 23 May 2017

Tango is the first play commissioned by Pangdemonium, and what excites me most about it is that it is written by a young Singaporean. Playwright Joel Tan’s dialogue is rich and witty, capturing the Singaporean vernacular.

For me, Tango is a story about sons. Kenneth (Koh Boon Pin) returns to Singapore with his family to care for his ageing father; Jayden (Dylan Jenkins), an almost-adolescent just discovering how unkind society can be about his gay parents; and Benmin (Benjamin Chow), a 30-year-old coming to terms with his sexuality and feeling like he may be letting down those dearest to him.

While Tango explores and encourages discussions of LGBTQ issues in Singapore, the play is essentially about family.

Rather than polarising caricatures, the characters that Tan crafted are ones that you can recognise. For instance, Lok Meng Chue’s Poh Lin is the typical nosy neighbour. But even while she sparks off the chain of events that form the backbone of the plot (refusing to serve Kenneth and his company on the grounds of them being gay parents), you acknowledge her views and her beliefs.

You cannot help but be drawn into the narrative. The masterful storytelling is helped by Tracie Pang’s direction, where she sets up two to three different scenes around the stage and deftly cuts from one to the other. It is pacey and there is not a dull moment throughout.

The Escher-esque set complements the storytelling perfectly. The blockish stacks portray Singapore as the concrete jungle, rather than the garden city. The different levels can represent the different classes (or at least perceived classes) in society. The reference to Escher also suggests there is no getting away from presenting and discussing the issues playing out on stage.

Yes, LGBTQ issues can often be polarising, exacerbated by the media – social and otherwise – which presents the issues as if they were dichotomous. We are often guilty of seeking views that confirm our own, creating deeper divisions and building up our own concept of an ‘other’ so utterly different from us. The reality though is that LGBTQ issues revolve around people, and every single person has a rich biography that cannot simply be distilled to gay or not gay. Tango is full of life and heart, and it reminds us to think about and care for people, whatever their beliefs.

“La Cage aux Folles“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 22 April 2017

W!ld Rice’s La Cage aux Folles is a wonderful spectacle: the tunes are catchy, the set is stunning, and the mood is infectiously carefree.

The premise for the musical is heartfelt and heart-warming. Ivan Heng and Sean Ghazi respectively play Albin and George, long-time lovers and proprietors of a fictional drag-cabaret nightclub called La Cage aux Folles. Their son Jonathan wishes to marry his love, Anne, and needs his parents to present – and pretend to be – a version of themselves that Anne’s conservative parents would approve of. Comedy, of course, ensues.

The acting and singing are strong throughout. George’s performance of “Song on the Sand” is the standout for me: it is steadfast in its longing and tender in its desire. When Ghazi sings “la da da da”, there is so much wistfulness you can’t help but sigh. The ditties “We Are What We Are” and “I Am What I Am” are also particularly life-affirming, with the former presented by a raucous, androgynous drag-cabaret ensemble. It is impossible not to tap your feet or bob your head along to the beat, and makes for an appropriate introduction to La Cage aux Folles – both the production and the nightclub. Amidst the disciplined choreography and flurry of dancing limbs, the last thing we really care about is whether that’s a man in a dress! It feels to me like a strong statement that we are, indeed, what we are.

My only complaint is Darius Tan’s and Jo Tan’s portrayal of the brash pair running the corner kopitiam. Jo Tan’s Lily speaks with the most bizarre of accents while Darius Tan really hams up the ah beng trope playing Ah Seng. I imagine this has something to do with the localisation of the production, but their performances are so exaggerated that I cringed through most of their segments.

The stage is framed by a towering, gilded birdcage. The sets within it are beautiful – especially when George and Albin’s house gets redecorated for Anne’s parents’ visit – while the props help bring out the comedy. Frederick Lee’s costumes are also stunning: I find myself wanting to run onstage to examine every intricacy, touch every bauble, and stroke every feather. They really bring a great sense of exuberance to the stage, doing more than just adding colour to the visual extravaganza.

At its core, La Cage aux Folles celebrates love so wholeheartedly that one can easily overlook the clichéd twists. In reminding us that we are what we are, W!ld Rice also remind us that they are what they are – a foremost local company we can count on for a fabulous night out at the theatre.

“Fundamentally Happy“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 18 March 2017

As you walk into the Esplanade Theatre Studio for Nine Years Theatre’s production of Fundamentally Happy, you’re immediately drawn into a familiar living room. The set is at once cosy and quaint, yet there’s also a sense of devastation. You feel as if you’re looking straight into someone’s home, their inner sanctum, because a wrecking ball has opened a massive peephole for you.

This is the first time that Haresh Sharma’s English play has been translated and staged in Mandarin. Director and translator Nelson Chia adapted the character of Habiba into a Chinese woman who married a Malay-Muslim man, converted to Islam and now participates fully in the community as a teacher in a madrasah. This adaptation works really well for me, in part because I’m more convinced of Habiba’s fervour for her adopted socio-religious culture and consequent denial of what may be unsettling and ugly about that culture. I assume that she converted because the Islamic teachings resonated with her. I can therefore empathise with her struggle through the five stages of grief, as she attemps to reconcile her husband’s criminal behaviour with their shared religious belief.

I am, however, a little disappointed by Lok Meng Chue’s performance as Habiba. She is clearly uncomfortable speaking in Mandarin, and it makes her victim blaming come across as comical and wholly inappropriate at one point. In contrast, Timothy Wan is much more confident as Eric – Habiba’s old neighbour – as he vacillates between being empowered and powerless, survivor and victim. Clearly, Wan’s Eric struggles with control, and Wan conveys that successfully through a highly nuanced performance.

Fundamentally Happy is a hard-hitting piece that throws the spotlight on abuse in the Malay-Muslim community in Singapore. Beyond the cultural and linguistic tensions arising from staging a Haresh Sharma play in Mandarin, the audience must also question what multiculturalism and multiracialism – purported pillars of Singapore society – really mean. As a Chinese Singaporean, I feel like sexual abuse is not in my mind space and perhaps that speaks of my privilege. I wonder how much of Nine Years Theatre’s audience feels the same way. We often rely on theatre to highlight and bridge social gaps, but much of the work really happens in the conversations we engage in after we see shows that question our values, beliefs and assumptions.

The dialogue must carry on after Fundamentally Happy, and we must be able to talk openly, safely, and honestly.

“Labels“

Reviewer: Selina Chong
Performance: 4 January 2017

The exercise of theatre reviewing is both retrospective and necessarily judgmental. As I sit here deliberating what to write, it strikes me as somewhat cruel that I’m attempting to pass judgment on a private and moving piece about labels and racism.

The first thing that strikes me as the lights are dimmed is Joe walking onto stage from a seat in the audience. He emerges as one of us. By association, every single one of us is now as vulnerable to the experience Joe shares with us, making it absolutely impossible for us not to empathise with and inhabit his life’s experience.

Another important element for me is the form: the monologue. It effectively creates a sense of a private dialogue between the performer and the audience. It is intimate and moving, and it is difficult to disengage from the performance. Simultaneously, it presents me with a bit of a paradox: if identity is socially constructed, and that socialized identity is a far cry from the self-contained and controlled environment created by a monologue.

Given that the production is a monologue and all we can heard is Joe’s voice, he skillfully employs accents and impersonations to prevent monotony. Trump’s presidency becomes more real as we continue towards his inauguration on January 20^th.  Unsurprisingly, the racist vitriol delivered in his voice draws the greatest response from the audience. While those around me laugh, I confess to feeling a lump in my throat. Joe suggests that labels and stereotypes go together, and perhaps that is what tickled the audience: a shared understanding grounded in stereotypes that have become common. I found myself feeling overwhelmed by petty over-generalisations sancitioned by the power of political office.

Overall, I am most impressed by the writing. Joe’s texts are intelligent and thoughtful, deeply personal but also instantly recognisable. Through his own experience growing up as a biracial child in Southwest England, Joe draws me into his world in which I examine our own race relations in Singapore. Questions such as what makes a good migrant and a bad immigrant resonate loudly in Singapore. As a Chinese Singaporean, how often am I aware of the privilege accorded by the colour of my skin?

The M1 Fringe Festival 2017 invites us to question and push our understanding of Art and Skin. Labels successfully explores the literal aspect of Skin and how societies have conflated the twin ideas of race and skin, and how human behaviours reflect race as a cruel social construct.