“It’s a Neverlanding Spectacle”

Reviewer: Cordelia Lee
Performance: 17 December 2019

Children soar over the stage this yuletide season as Wild Rice returns with its annual Christmas pantomime. This year it’s Peter Pan of Serangoon Gardens, a local take on J.M Barrie’s beloved children’s story.

The ageless boy Peter Pan flies into the home of three Singaporean siblings just as academic pressures and parental expectations threaten to smother their childhood. Emblematic of escapism and youthful innocence, Peter offers them a ticket to carefree adventure and perpetual youth in Neverland, to which they readily accept.

Akin to Wild Rice’s pantomimes of Christmases past, this one brims with spectacle from start to finish.

Characters take flight on stage, somersaulting in the air with the support of safety harnesses. Fight scenes between Peter and his nemesis Captain Hook resemble a stereotypical good-versus-evil showdown, complete with swashbuckling action and fancy footwork. Meanwhile, cross-dressing mystical creatures exude an air of ridiculous flamboyance. Clad in luscious wigs and glittering scales, a pair of drag mermaids flutter their false lashes and coo in falsettos in one scene, vying for Peter’s attention. In a separate scene, Peter’s overgrown fairy TingTong Bell prances around stage wearing a tight pink tutu and a sassy attitude; she showers the pre-flight children with fairy-dust as she goes, speaking in Pig Latin to mask her “itchy-bay omments-cay”.

The aerial tricks, melodrama and absurdity line-up one after another, garnering a chock full of laughter from the audience. It’s hard to tear my gaze away from the stage; I admit I’m enthralled.

But while Peter Pan can’t grow old, two straight hours of pure spectacle can. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a greater message or sociocultural issue waiting to be highlighted through all of this.

If anything, there is a brief attempt to provoke the audience into critically considering the effects Singapore’s education system has on our children. The jaunty overture that opens the production, “Time For A Story”, carries a conundrum in its cheery melody that hits very close to home. A chorus of sleepwear-clad children break into synchronised choreography on stage whilst belting in unison their desire to be read a bedtime story, desperate to drift off into a dream-like world of fantasy and adventure before the realities of school-life resurface at dawn. The sonorous voices emanating from the adult ensemble, however, adamantly oppose. Their reasons and rationale are delivered sternly, rhythmically shutting down the children’s pleas. And these stay in my head long after the last note ends:

“PSLE coming soon! Finished your revision? Think about your future first. No time to be a child!”

The life of an average Singaporean child is amplified in these lyrics for all to scrutinise. The perennial question concerning Singapore’s education system resurfaces: Is it robbing our children of their childhood? They’ll excel, but at what cost?

But as the play proceeds, the little focus that this sociocultural issue gains unfortunately tapers off, lost amidst the fantasy, larger-than-life characters and fast-moving plot.

Nonetheless, Wild Rice’s proclivity for revising classical tales for a Singaporean audience once again creates an epic theatre experience for the young and young at heart.

It’ll whisk you away to a magical land where you won’t need to think too hard.

“Grandmother Tongue”

Reviewer: Jocelyn Chng
Performance: 4 October 2017

I begin this review with a disclaimer. I am Teochew. Or, to be more exact, I am half-Teochew, and despite having only a limited understanding of the language, consider myself culturally Teochew. And I suspect that due in no small part to this, I have a personal, emotional bias towards Grandmother Tongue.

As part of W!ld Rice’s Singapore Theatre Festival in 2016, the first staging of Grandmother Tongue sold out within days of the release of ticket sales, as it was then staged in a venue with limited seating capacity. Fortunately, this restaging is held at the SOTA Studio Theatre and for a longer run, allowing for a much larger audience.

Playwright and director Thomas Lim has created a culturally-specific work whose precision can only come from someone who has lived the culture. As I watch Jalyn Han’s portrayal of the grandmother on stage, I cannot help but see my own Teochew grandmother in her place, not just in the familiar sounds of the language, but more poignantly, in her mannerisms and character quirks that are so distinctly Teochew. Her extreme frugality stemming from earlier hardship, the way she tells her son not to visit if he is busy with work, her insistence on the use of “secret” substances in her cooking – all of these could have easily been scenes directly out of my own childhood.

Grandmother Tongue raises many questions – most obviously about the bilingual policy that started in the 1960s, and the Speak Mandarin Campaign, which have been responsible for the sharp decline in the use of the various Chinese “dialects” in Singapore. (I indicate “dialects” in quotation marks because there are strong linguistic grounds for considering them languages in their own right; whether something is termed a “language” or a “dialect” is usually a matter of politics, as has been the case in Singapore.)

As the play so clearly demonstrates, the complete eradication of “dialect” use in all media channels and government correspondence has led to the alienation of ethnically Chinese senior citizens who cannot speak or read Mandarin – not only from society in general but, more sadly, from their own children and grandchildren.

There is a moment of a self-reflexive inside-joke where all subtitles are turned off – while this may be uncomfortable or alienating to non-Teochew speakers (myself included), if anything it quite brilliantly illustrates just the above.

The cultural-specificity notwithstanding, the play can likely be appreciated regardless of language and culture, for which the strong overall coherence of the narrative structure and adroit performances of all three cast members should be credited. Rarely do all the elements of a performance come together so well, and for Lim, this is truly an achievement.

I hope for more works to be created in future surrounding other dialect groups. Contrary to what official rhetoric would have us believe, Singapore’s Chinese population is far from homogenous, and that diversity of cultures is something that should be celebrated. And what better way to do it, than through theatre?

“You never quite want to check out of this Hotel”

Reviewer: Isaac Lim
Performance: 29 August 2015, 3pm & 8pm

A grand, prestigious hotel, welcomes its guests from all over, to help tell a story spanning a century. People come and go but it is the traces they leave behind that adds charm to the hotel’s history. And it all unfolds in room 308.

Welcome to the epic Hotel, a Singapore International Festival of Arts (SIFA) 2015 commission, by W!ld Rice.

Unfolding in two parts, Hotel is a series of 11 short plays lasting almost 5 hours long. Co-directed by Ivan Heng and Glen Goei, and co-written by award-winning playwright Alfian Sa’at with Marcia Vanderstraaten, Hotel navigates through Singapore’s history, fifty years before and after independence.

We see a pair of long-lost cousins reuniting in Room 308 in 1925: one a laundry room staff in the hotel, and the other a servant who’s followed her employers to Singapore. Their story is no different from the lonely and abused maids today.

In 1965, a room service manager has an affair with the television repairman. They are embroiled in a relationship that is filled with love and hate, and ends with the declaration of Singapore’s independence.

It is especially heart-warming, or maybe heartbreaking, to see certain characters that reappear over time. There is the bellboy Daut, who rises through the ranks in the hotel. Then there are the two Malay women, Sharifah, who is forced to part with her Japanese lover and son at the end of the Japanese occupation, and then meets her son forty years later in a bittersweet reunion.

That said, it is Part 2 that is more palatable to this reviewer, perhaps due to the fact that the scenes in this installment are more light-hearted. The stories in Part 1 appear as independent and disparate vignettes and as such, lack the coherence of a performance entity.

It is also in part 2 that we see a bunch of larger-than-life, over-the-top characters dealing with contemporary issues that, because of their historical currency, feel more real. In 1975, near the end of Bugis Street’s heydays, we meet a drag queen negotiating his identity with his mother. In 1995, we witness the on-goings in the bride’s room as a multiracial couple prepares for their second banquet entrance.

The wow-factor of this production lies in the use of languages, especially the colloquial languages of the time. We hear the characters speaking in rather impressive Japanese in 1945, and very fluent Cantonese conversed between the two Chinese maids in 1925. Weirdly, there was a wave of gasps and wows from the audience when actor Dwayne Lau, who plays the Indian groom in 1995, spoke in clear Mandarin.

At the end of the evening, one may feel drained by the Hotel experience, but because it is such a unique and epic Singapore experience, you never quite feel like checking out.

“Dancing with Another Country”

Reviewer: Gan Soon Rui
Performance: 3 July 2015

Another Country is like a buffet spread packed full of Singaporean and Malaysian dishes.

For the first half, you sample a comprehensive selection of Singaporean dishes cooked by Malaysian chefs. After a 15 minutes interval, you continue on to the Malaysian dishes, this time prepared by Singaporeans, in the order predetermined by a game of Tikam-Tikam [local version of drawing the lot].

And like all buffets, it can be overwhelming trying to savour ALL the dishes in three hours, especially if you are the kind of person that wants to get their bang for the buck.

The spread of texts selected carefully by the curators Alfian Sa’at and Leow Puay Tin, from the Singaporean and Malaysian texts respectively, can be used comparatively to trace the lineage of local theatre in both countries. Simply put, this production allows us to see Singapore and Malaysia as two entwining vines binding both countries. Another Country is a performance operating primarily on juxtaposition.

And I guess it is no coincidence that the Malaysian and Singaporean casts are dressed in black and white respectively, and how the plain white floor of the stage is purposefully marked with black tape into a tic-tac-toe-esque shape during the latter half of the performance. Subsequently, combined with the systematic movements of the Singaporean cast from text to text, the latter half of the performance feels clinical and less robust compared to the first half, even though the order of the texts are performed in a random shuffle.

While the collections of texts are indeed comprehensive and varied, it seems a shame that there is little attention paid to the pacing of the performance. Continuing with the analogy of a buffet, the performance feels like us gorging on richly flavoured food without being given time to appreciate the details of the dishes, savour the taste and pause for reflection. After a while, the audience is drained, which is more often than not the opportune time for them to check their phones. And mind you, this behaviour is infectious amongst a distracted audience… but I digress.

Towards the end of the performance, Another Country does leave much food for thought for the audience. Titled Dance, this piece had both the Singaporean and Malaysian casts dancing a short bout with their counterpart, and leaves a strong and poignant reminder of this brief and coordinated duet together between 1963 – 1965.

An unforgettable dance duet with another country.

“It’s a small world after all”

Reviewer: Andre Theng
Performance: 25 June 2015

In light of this year’s SG50 celebrations, I should first commend W!ld Rice for reviving an interesting premise for a theatrical production, one which answers the question of whether Singapore and Malaysia are in fact, different or the same countries. This is especially so for the audience members who had missed the previous iteration – the 2005 production, Second Link. Even for those who were there in 2005, Another Country presents updated texts and a refreshed production, resulting in an up-to-date anthology of sorts of Singapore and Malaysian literature.

Here’s how the second production in Wild Rice’s ImagiNATION series works: the first half of the show consists of a Malaysian cast playing a series of 35 texts about Singapore, selected by Alfian Sa’at and played in chronological order. These are a combination of both fiction and non-fiction texts, including newspaper forum letters, poetry, a song commissioned by the Ministry of Culture and excerpts from Singapore theatre such as Lim Chor Pee’s Mimi Fan and Michael Chiang’s Private Parts.

The second half comprises texts about Malaysia curated by Leow Puay Tin. However, there is an additional twist: the pieces are not played in chronological order, and instead, before the intermission, the audience is invited to play a game of “tikam-tikam”, and the order of the pieces are decided there and then. A timer was set up at the corner of the stage, and at the end of an hour, the Singapore actors playing the Malaysian scripts would stop and perform just one more piece. That means that not all the pieces would be performed, and that the pieces each night would be different. The same devise was done in the 2005 iteration.

Throughout the performance, which flits through each (unrelated) piece of text and there seems to be little effort to make links between the pieces, I ask myself how the entire experience helped to answer the question presented in the premise.

Strangely, by the end of the nearly 3-hour performance, it works. The sum of all the parts clarifies that culturally, Singapore and Malaysia are quite the same after all. Many times, it is indeed difficult to identify whether a certain piece is Singaporean or Malaysian – many of the Singapore pieces are about Malaysia, such as Claire Tham’s Highway and Alfian Sa’at’s A Visit to a Relative’s House in Malaysia. This shows that geopolitical boundaries are not as clearly demarcated culturally, and perhaps, we have something in common after all.

Presented shortly after a run in Kuala Lumpur, I concur with the Malaysian reviewers that the Malaysian texts, presented by the Singapore cast, are more entertaining and well-paced than the longer and slower first half. I am not sure if it is the cast that lack energy and synergy on stage, or if it is the nature of the pieces chosen by Alfian that had resulted in this. The performance doesn’t start strong and only picks up in segments featuring song-and-dance. The Malaysian pieces, on the other hand, given their random order are high energy and on point, and you can look forward to Lim Yu Beng playing a chicken and Siti Khalijah, the crowd favourite, playing Emily. There are no sets and the production is accompanied by some video clips and props.

All in all, I must say that I enjoy the romp through Singapore and Malaysia, and if anything, I discover many new literary works which I will be sure to look up.

“Sins and Salvation”

Reviewer: Muhammed Faizad Bin Salim
Performance: 13 May 2015

In a play that primarily comprises five vignettes that centre around Geylang – the one locale in Singapore which can simultaneously boast of having a rich history of Malay heritage and at the same time play host to a seedier underbelly of what is known to many as the nation’s red-light district – some narratives are more memorable than others.

The standout storylines were the ‘MYID’ sections (the longest of the five vignettes on offer and interspersed with the others in between) – detailing the efforts of a government agency in trying to relocate the residents and businesses of Geylang to make way for a new development in the area known as Casa Geylang – and the TVB-esque ‘Brothers in the Net’ section which portrayed the trials and tribulations of a gang leader and his triad of men as they surround themselves in vice rings of prostitution and drugs.

Generally the space in which the play was performed is not ideal for a full-fledged theatre performance – it has a very small stage with no proper rigs for lights and it does not have the traditional wings on stage left and right for the actors to make their entrances and exits, resulting sometimes in awkward blocking choices. Worst of all, the space lacks sound-proofing and when a public announcement is made in the mall that houses the space, the audience is rudely distracted from the production. But despite these challenges, the ensemble still manages to press on and deliver fairly committed performances. In fact, I believe that not having access to the technology usually afforded by technical production elements, works in their favour and allows the audience to focus on the acting and the quality of the script.

The production sure was wild – there were heaps of sexual innuendos thrown at the audience, some through double entendres and others through not so subtle physical actions and the audience (one suspects they are primarily made up of friends, family and supporters of the cast) lap up every single of one of them.

As if that isn’t enough, the audience is assaulted with over-the-top performances that were punctuated by F-bombs galore and lots of screaming and yelling that meander into amateur theatre-making territory. There is even a cross-dressing element thrown in but one questions the overall intent and purpose of such a directorial choice (apart from engendering cheap laughs) as there is obviously no dearth of female cast members to choose from.

Despite the hits and misses, it is ultimately very promising still to note new, young talents coming to the fore, despite the fact that there is still much room for them to grow and find their footing as actors. Principally, they must practise restraint in order to turn in more nuanced performances.

“Geylanggan – to twist, crush something to extract its essence”

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 13 May 2015

You cannot be more mistaken if you think Geylang is merely filled with Lorongs (lanes) that only come alive at night. What does ‘Serai’ in ‘Geylang Serai’ means? Wait, is Geylang Serai even Geylang at all? Its history is certainly far more complex. Even places like ‘Jalan Eunos’ and ‘Ubi’ literally emanate from Geylang.

Through five interweaving stories, young & W!LD’s latest production, Geylang, seeks out the audience and challenges their perception of Geylang as the stereotyped red-light district. The result is like rojak (an eclectic dish with a mix of ingredients) – there are plentiful saucy scenes filled with raunchy jokes, untold stories of fictional characters that make Geylang it is.

The play first introduces a conflict between the Chinese and the Malay community during the time of the Orang Lauts (Malay people living on boats). Two lovers are caught in this family feud, and are killed for their illicit affair. The dramatic sequence of events in this story foreshadows the racial conflicts between the Chinese and the Malays. An interesting inclusion is the origins of the of Mee Rebus (Malay noodle dish) which in itself is a Malay and Chinese hybrid – the augurs the possibility of a resolution.

Fast forward to present day, a government plan to relocate the people of Geylang to make way for urban development backfires. Wacky characters that live in Geylang from all walks of life appeal to a government official. Through tongue-in-cheek scenarios and light-hearted conversations, the story questions the possibility of co-existence between the new and the old, offering us the probability of a Geylang erased its heritage.

Towards the climax of the show, Sin Long (Leonard Tan) is featured as the triad boss, living a decadent life of drugs and sex. The story is pure comedy gold, straight out the 80s. A loyal follower of the triad will save the maiden from Sin Long who consequently loses his mind and starts killing people around him. What follows are unimaginably vulgar scenes so bad that it makes for a really hilarious play.

The production is just like durian, both sweet and bitter. It is an enjoyable show, no doubt. The young team of actors and actresses surprises with great chemistry, especially in intimate scenes. But I am keen to see this play push harder for what it is trying to convey (ie. the gentrification of Geylang). More often than not, I can hardly contain my laughter, leaving me to forget everything else.

Despite the rather small stage the large cast has to work around with, it pairs well with the close-proximity of the stage to the audience, providing an engaging experience. It feels like a Madhouse. The neon-lit stage is stunning. It definitely is Geylang in its quirky and quaint way. I watched the first night of the run which experienced some mishaps in the lighting cues and stuttering of lines. Nevertheless, this show holds great entertainment value.

“Public Enemy”

Reviewer: Jemima Yong
Performance: 25 April 2015

I will declare this at the onset: I am a jaded viewer. What frustrates me most about productions like Public Enemy is weak acting. Frankly I didn’t believe many of the characters; I was not moved at all. I spend much of the performance trying to look past unedited fidgets, synthetic sentiment posing as realism, and lazy performances.

Public Enemy is a commentary on socio-political opposition in Singapore through David Harrower’s rewrite of Henrik Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People. The new narrative feels compressed, too quick to arrive at convenient truisms. Our protagonist here is named Dr. Thomas Chee, a not-so-subtle allusion to the leader of a local opposition party. W!ld Rice cannot have known but in view of recent public spats and trials, this is all so perfectly timed. But bar a couple of soft prods, the production does not go as far as it could to facilitate fruitful discussion. And it is this half full glass that makes Public Enemy commendable in ambition but mediocre in realization.

The most intriguing and disappointing part of Public Enemy is the point when the lights come up onto the audience. Dr. Chee stands in front of the microphone and addresses us, the public; the theatre is transformed into a conference auditorium. There are a lot of interesting questions espoused into the packed hall, about politicians, the model of practiced democracy and consensus, but before we have any time to take them in, the questions are swiftly hijacked by an ensemble of actors in the audience hall boo-ing or cheering. The actual audience is literally silenced. With questions like “Does anyone have anything good to say about politicians?”, I imagine, some people might have wanted to say “yes!”. But the signs are conflicting and we never really know if the questions are addressed to us. The audience ends up being talked to as we are uncertain if we have the right to respond.

Overall, it felt like a half extended handshake or a slouched call to arms; strangely timid or perhaps just not brave enough. I can only speculate as to what has happened in the making of this work, but either way the possibilities of theatre and arguably of the chosen text are grossly stunted in its presentation. And that unexplored potential leaves Public Enemy on the safe side of provocative, which may not be enough to change anything outside of the theatre.

“Public (Image) Enemy”

Reviewer: Gloria Ho
Performance: 17 April 2015

“Truth must not be the servant to money.” To those who believe in this notion, you may be a public enemy.

Public Enemy, W!LD RICE’s first production in its imagiNATION season, is a powerful and thought-provoking play which discusses a few sociopolitical issues from herd mentality to unthinking submission to authority . It also confronts issues of legacy and the next generation and contains a strong critique of the media.

Gone are the colorful and elaborate set and costumes characteristic of W!LD RICE’s productions. Yet, the monochromic designs were not any less attention-grabbing. We are constantly reminded of the existence of the grey area between black and white.

The transitions between sets are well-orchestrated, well-timed and they effectively mark the different locations. Due to the fast-paced nature of the production, the loud and intense music during transitions did not seem wise. The music became more disruptive than ‘alienating’ in the Brechtian sense. There wasn’t sufficient space in between scenes to collect our thoughts or reflect.

By placing the ensemble or chorus members on the second floor and bringing up the house lights, Director Goei creates an immersive experience during the speech scene. This simple strategy directly implicates the Victoria Theatre audience as the “majority-is-always-right” crowd that Dr Chee berates.

I think it is unfortunate that the supporting female characters, performed by two very competent actors, are side-lined in favour of a male-led discussion. Harrower’s translation present the Chee family women as underdeveloped and lacking internal depths. Catherine Chee’s (played by Serene Chen) abrupt switch from being overly protective of her family’s material well-being to unwavering supporter of Dr. Chee remains puzzling.

Overall, Public Enemy is a bold production and is worth watching. For a start, it offers a platform for us to rethink the values of various long withstanding ideas said to uphold the ‘common good’. It would be better if the directions were less confrontational and allowed room for subtlety; room for us to exercise our imagiNATION.

“Westward Bound”

Reviewer: Andre Theng
Performance: 12 December 2014, 7.30pm

The West of Singapore is nothing like the East. While the East is considered by many to be a peaceful and historical area of Singapore: full of heritage buildings and good food – the West can lay no such claim. It is thought of as “ulu” (the boondocks) and uninteresting. And so Wild Rice’s latest pantomime, Monkey Goes West, is pretty spot on when it plays on how Jurong West is “not ghetto, okay”.

Like previous years’ successful local adaptations of well-known tales such as Cinderal-LAH! and Jack & the Bean Sprout! Monkey Goes West borrows from the Chinese epic, Journey to the West and transplants its characters to Singapore where Ah Tang (Joshua Lim) is making his journey from Haw Par Villa back home to Jurong West. Along the way, he is joined by characters from the original story, including the Monkey King (Sugie Phua), Pigsy (Frances Lee), Princess Iron Fan (Chua Enlai), Red Boy (Kimberly Chan), King Bull (Lim Kay Siu) and Sandy (Siti Khalijah).

That said, the precise premise of the show isn’t really the main point. The point is that everyone gets imbibed with festive cheer, and left entertained by the jokes. And entertain it did. The jokes and the excellent music by Elaine Chan left the audience in stitches from start to finish, from Enlai’s cross-dressing and his mispronounced words (“You deserve a standing ovulation”), to local references to the haze and the “Yellow River (Ribbon) Project”. Monkey Goes West covers all bases – cute children doing martial arts, audience participation, pop culture references, adult jokes, emotional moments (the sub-plot of the Ah Tang’s dead mother) and moral lessons on the importance of family and of teamwork.

The entire production is ably supported by the spiffy sets by Wong Chee Wai that includes a giant lotus and gold pillars. The tight directing by first-time director Sebastian Tan, flamboyant costumes by the Tube Gallery and a clever script by Alfian Sa’at all made for an excellent production.

Sure, at times the jokes were lame and predictable that I felt like I was watching a Channel 8 variety show or the President’s Star Charity. But only the Grinch would grumble after watching this production, and I cannot deny that I laughed plenty of times. I left the theatre humming the theme song, and I felt a whole lot more festive than before the performance. Monkey Goes West is truly a production for people of all ages and it certainly embodies the spirit of the season.