“Lie”

Reviewer: Yong Yoke Kay
Performance: 9 November 2019 

Lie with Me is presented by the graduating students of Intercultural Theatre Institute (ITI). Written by Kaite O’Reilly and directed by Phillip Zarrilli, the piece explores the complex dynamics of modern-day relationships.

The characters in this work come from various backgrounds, including a migrant worker struggling to find employment, a high-ranking boss, a struggling artist, and a cleaner. This serves not only to display a variety of perspectives, it also highlights the universality of relationship dynamics explored in the play. None of us, regardless of sexual orientation, can avoid navigating the labyrinthine world of modern relationships.

The play opens with a movement phrase where the cast, dressed in nondescript jeans and t-shirts, lurch and stagger across the stage, seemingly devoid of feelings and consciousness. The bodies are numb and zombified, as if they are capable of only sleepwalking through life.

Subsequent movement phrases appear between each scene, setting the tone and serving as effective transitions. The music plays a major role, shaping the mood and delineating the trajectory.

The main storyline is divided into multiple dialogues, a daisy chain of interactions between eight characters that slowly reveal the ways in which their lives are intertwined. This structure highlights the actors’ nuanced portrayal of each character’s personality, and this reviewer is touched by the raw emotions bravely bared on stage. Particularly poignant is Wendy Toh’s character asking to be held by her lover (Jin Chen).

One major thread running throughout is the tendency of people to be selective with the stories they tell, much like how we curate our social media (or dating app!) profile. The precariousness of the self in modern society is examined closely, as characters get trapped in a swirling morass of truth and lies, twisted by the gravity of societal expectations, and pieced together with convoluted fragments of tales told to oneself and others.

Another universal theme explored is the human desire for touch and affection, and the various ways in which people satisfy this desire. Every character yearns to be caressed, not only by physical skin, but also by sweet words of seduction, by imagined happy endings, by hope. Confused between love and lust, they grasp at one another, caught up in a game where they push emotions and intimacy around like pieces on a board – sometimes manipulative, sometimes cynical, sometimes desperate.

One walks away from this production feeling overwhelmed, but strangely comforted by the fact that we are not alone in the struggles and trials of the complex world of relationships.

“Holding On to a Sliver of Hope”

Reviewer: Isaac Tan
Performance: 5 September 2019

With an ominous-sounding title like a line could be crossed and you would slowly cease to be, one expects the play to be a doomsday declaration.

So imagine my surprise when the play, written by Andrew Sutherland, is anchored by two rather domestic stories. The first is a gay couple who has been keeping their relationship under wraps, but finally decides to move in together. And one of them has the urge to search for the mother who abandoned him. The other story is of a shy architect trying to strike up a conversation with a lady at a café. And the latter is doing a research project on the environment and wants to present her findings through art.

As the relationships develop and fissure, themes of loss and hope come to the fore. Factoids about the environment, such as the sex of turtles being dependent on environmental temperature during the nesting period, are subtly woven into the conversation.

Throw in animals telling us that individual or governmental efforts are not enough to save the environment, and we get a complex play that questions what we are going to do when everything that we know has changed – whether that’s within a domestic relationship, or on a global level.

 

Koh Wan Ching may be troubled by her impact on the environment, but her impact on the show’s direction is far from troubling. She puts the training that the students of Intercultural Theatre Institute (ITI) undergo to excellent use. The ensemble (Jin Chen, Theresa Wee-Yenko, Ted Nudgent Fernandez Tac-An, Tysha Khan, Wendy Toh, and Nourel Houda Essafi) exude a strong sense of physical dynamism and fluent mask work.

Despite the limitations of the space, Koh also manages to create a sense of grandeur for the entrance of a dying goddess by crafting a movement sequence that has the ensemble manipulating a long cloth.

That said, it is puzzling why guest performers (Jeramy Lim plays the gay partner while Jey Lim Jun Jie plays the shy architect) are recruited to play principal roles, given that this is an ITI graduation show. Furthermore, the intentions of Jeramy’s character are never made clear. As such, his scenes with ITI student Earnest Hope Tinambacan never progressed beyond a sense of wistfulness throughout the whole show.

Jey fares better opposite ITI student Regina Toon, as they have a better sense of connection. The little movement sequences that show the development of their relationship are also fun to watch.

It is anyone’s guess when we will have crossed the line of no return when it comes to our survival. But I am consoled by the fact that at least we have an excellent group of storytellers on our shores. One can only hope that some other life form gets to understand these stories when we are gone.

 

“悲剧不易，喜剧难为“

Reviewer: Liu Chang | 刘畅
Performance: 18 March 2017

这是两部描写女人的古希腊戏剧。

上半场是<Women at Troy> （中译<特洛伊妇女>，415 BC），原著者为古希腊诗人欧里庇得斯（Euripides，484 BC—406 BC）。剧情以特洛伊战争为背景（另说影射了公元前461年 雅典人在墨罗斯岛的屠杀），特洛伊的男人们被赶尽杀绝，赫克托尔幼子造诛，女人们也终将被雅典军奴役。

下半场是<Women at Thesmophoria>（中译为<特士摩>，411 BC），原著者为古希腊喜剧作家阿里斯托芬（Aristophances, 445 BC —385 BC ）。阿里斯托芬讽刺同时代悲剧作家欧里庇得斯和阿伽通（Agathon， 447 BC —400 BC），为了打探女人们在地母节（也译作塞斯摩弗洛斯节）上对他不当的言谈，欧里庇得斯派了一个男性亲戚易装混入节日，演出了一场喜剧。

两部戏原本各自独立，但一悲一喜共同上演，对照着看就很有意思。

其一，<Women at Troy>体现了女人的悲悯和尊严。除去开篇海王波塞冬和女神雅典娜的短暂戏份，整部剧集中刻画各种女人的形象。女演员们成功地塑造了特洛伊的妇女们，例如特洛伊王后Hecuba大灾面前的镇定和智慧，其女Cassandra虽疯狂却视死如归，即使是“罪魁祸首”海伦面对千“女”所指也不忘为自己的命运抗争，连歌咏队的女演员们都出色地表现出亡国的悲壮情怀。但与此同时，值得商榷的是，这场表演中男性角色诠释不甚到位。演员的嗓音、手势、力度等表现力稍逊（或者编剧导演想表现希腊军也有恻隐之心，面对妇女不忍下手？）。文艺作品中配角虽不应抢风头，也要有看头，才是一部精致的艺术之作。

<Women at Thesmophoria>幽默又轻盈地表达了女人在两性关系上的抗争。地母节本为祭祀掌管收获和生育的女神得墨忒耳（Demeter）和其女帕尔塞福涅（Persephone），同时也是已婚妇女的播种宴会。演员们不仅成功地营造了喜剧氛围，也塑造了众多借祭祀时控诉命运、戏谑男权的女人形象。同时该剧中的男性演员表现出色，共同营造了一场热烈的酒神狂欢。

<Women at Troy>和<Women at Thesmophoria>联演共同刻画了女人的不同侧面，使女性集体形象变得立体：既能直面战争承受伤痛，又有和平时以柔克刚的抗争智慧。

其二，两部戏联演多了些后设和互文的趣味，并令人思考悲与喜的关系。

坊间传闻阿里斯托芬对欧里庇得斯相当有看法，并写了此剧<Women at Thesmophoria>讽刺他。先看了欧里庇得斯的 <Women at Troy>，再看讽刺和诠释他的<Women at Thesmophoria>，就不免有趣，像是在看后设小说；另外，喜剧一直地位不如悲剧，它的嘲弄、戏谑、甚至是猥亵（如阳具造型）被认为低级。地母节上的喜剧调侃了刚才上演的悲剧中的人物（如墨涅拉奥斯救海伦），不免令人会心一笑，想起苏格拉底迫使阿伽农和阿里斯托芬承认“真正的悲剧演员在喜剧方面也是真正的艺术家，反之亦然”，演员和观众也应该学会同时欣赏悲与喜。

悲剧不易，喜剧难为。悲剧演得不好难免声嘶力竭，这样就弱化了悲剧本该具有的严肃与完美、豪迈且壮烈的品质；喜剧演得不好就太浮与闹，倘使演者和观者都不理解喜剧要暗讽的对象，以及各种戏仿等手段背后的含意，演员忙活了半天不知所以，而观众又不笑。这一次年轻的演员们能将两部古希腊戏剧诠释如此已经不易，悲喜各有千秋；同时本次演出对古希腊戏剧也是一次很好的普及，特别是对于面具和歌队合唱在悲喜剧中的使用，百闻不如一见。

“Discipline and Diversity”

Reviewer: Beverly Yuen
Performance: 19 March 2016

Simplicity, created by Argentine director Guillermo Angelelli and ITI 2016 graduating cohort of seven students, is a highly disciplined work based on a poem of the same title by Jorge Luis Borges.

The graduating cohort comprises students from Brazil, Hong Kong, India and Singapore. Drawing songs and tales from their own culture, they reflect and construct segments based on the text of the poem.  The performers seem to have mapped their experiences onto the poem instead of being led by it. This makes the interpretation a dynamic and lively one to watch.

The piece opens with shadows cast on the faces of the actors with a huge prominent lantern centre stage, and the question of “to be or not to be?” is posed. This is enhanced by varied tones of breath sounds, dialects and languages. The sound of “dong” emits a disturbing yet ethereal sound which evokes mystery and suspense. With the other structures resembling tombstones—designed by Chris Chua—to complete the picture, the piece seems to hint at a journey of exploration through the passage of life and death.

Throughout the performance, the actions are highly structured and precise, and at the same time alive. None of the action is accidental as every move is carefully planned and dynamically executed according to a certain rhythm. Additionally, the voice work is superb. Sounds of voices, songs, and breath provide a rich sustenance to the performance. At times, the resonances of the voice work hit me right into my heart; at other times, the sounds are so subtle and yet haunting that I cannot identify the maker of the sound.

If this piece is to be viewed from the perspective of the actors’ training, it gains my utmost respect and admiration for the commitment an actor devotes to one’s craft. The actor has to drop his/her ego and contribute as a small and yet essential part to this highly cohesive ensemble piece.

However, if I do not take the background of the creators and the context of the work into consideration, I may find some incoherent segments and the lack of climax disturbing. At the same time, I am not seeking for a “storyline”, but rather, a journey that could eventually bring me to a destination. For instance, I may listen to a piece of drumming without a storyline and be brought on a voyage which arrives at an anchorage.

Despite all that, this ephemeral piece could be a representation of life too. While we do wish for an apex or a closure in our life, events of life do not appear in that way all the time. Life is unexpected and the only constant in life is impermanence. Thus, this piece could be a much truer reflection of the reality of life than any other well-made plays. No matter what you may think of this performance, it is definitely one that compels endless contemplation, introspection, and discussion.

“Q: Protagonists at the Edge”

Reviewer: Casidhe Ng
Performance: 30 May 2015

It is difficult to encapsulate a piece like Q into words, considering the range of approaches and themes it explores and the important questions it asks. Performed by Al-Matin Yatim, Chang Ting Wei and Yazid Jalil, Q is a love letter to Singapore theatre sans sentimentality. It acknowledges nostalgia but remains progressive. Drawing from two of Kuo Pao Kun’s plays, The Eagle and The Cat and The Silly Little Girl and the Funny Old Tree, Q adamantly defies theatrical conventions as it questions the past, present and future of theatre. The performance traverses between disparate scenes: between physical, performative explorations with text and an alienating reality.

The audience is invited into the rehearsal studio of the esplanade, and is welcomed in by both the actors and Ang Gey Pin, the director herself. The opportunity to interact and converse with both the actors and the director in a pre-performance setting immediately disarms the audience and creates an intimate space that welcomes investing from both parties.

The consistent shifting between performative segments to reality is occasionally disorienting as the audience co-constructs and dismantles the fourth wall. Despite this, the interesting physical work (with references to traditional forms) as well as the skilled manipulation of the space, both physically and conceptually, ensure that the audience is constantly engaged. The interactions between the actors and the audience, the actors themselves, and their communal questioning of theatre itself are particularly interesting to watch.

As a whole, Q can be difficult to grasp with its range of concepts and thematic initiatives, but it remains engaging throughout. It’s not every day that an audience gets to participate in a play that comments on the art and significance of creation, whilst in the process of creating it.

“The theatre is an encounter”

Reviewer: Beverly Yuen
Performance: 30 May 2015

Theatre master Grotowski once said, “The core of the theatre is an encounter”. In Q: Protagonists at the Edge, Ang Gey Pin, a director-actress who is trained in the Grotowskian tradition of theatre making, allows everyone in the space to encounter both the living and non-living elements; reality and imagination; past and present; theatre-doing and theatre-viewing in the space known as a rehearsal studio in the play. She explains the play as a process that is ongoing and changing in the rehearsal room where creativity and confrontations occur.   In preparing the audience for such an “encounter”, Ang and her performers interact and play games with the audience before the start of the “performance”.

Three plays – The Silly Little Girl and the Funny Old Tree and The Eagle and the Cat by Kuo Pao Kun and Three Families Blessings by Lim Jen Erh — serve as a bridge to connect the responses of performers and audience to these works. The actors reveal that they are told “to be themselves” and yet playing the characters at the same time. And that is the mantra that ties the three plays together. While the three are playing different characters, their cultural identities and traditions surface through their different languages (Malay, Mandarin, English, Hokkien, Singlish) and individual styles in delivering songs, music and movements. And as “themselves”, they move out of characters and question the scripts and rehearsal process. The transitions of the performers moving in and out of their characters during rehearsal are seamlessly presented, with clever use of lighting by Josiah Yoong in depicting the “now” and the “rehearsal”. The three scripts intertwined with interposing questions, conversations and play between creators, as well as between creators and audience. Throughout the piece, the audience members are confronted with questions regarding issues of arts, living and history, through the engagement of all the five senses. In addition to visual images and audio presented, we are served with water, steaming sweet potatoes and asked to make an origami.

The ensemble of three sustains the almost two hour play/rehearsal with immense energy and synergy. Their voice work and play with musical instruments evoke a wide spectrum of emotions ranging from joy, frustrations and self-amusement. Al-Matin Yatim supports the piece with his chant-like vocal and is convincing as the old tree as he sings and narrates with the voice of an aged which resonates in the space; Yazid Jalil illuminates the space with his agile and poised movements cumulated with playfulness and gaiety; Chang Ting Wei is meticulous in executing every action of hers, as if weaving an artwork from threads.

The creative team seems to be reminiscing about the past, paying tribute to those who continue to touch and inspire generations through the arts, and commenting on what is lost in the process of modernization. The set and seats neatly arranged for the audience are made of cardboard and papers, and they create a raw, primitive and yet organized feel, which seem to suggest that this is the state of arts in Singapore — there is so much energy gushing in the underlying currents in a highly structured society. The music and sound effects designed by Nickolai D. Nickolov produce diverse emotional landscapes from nostalgia to tension to despair. Ironically, while the piece also questions about the exploitation of trees in modern industrialized life in the segments of The Silly Little Girl and the Funny Old Tree, papers are heavily used in the construction of the set and props. The audience beside me exclaimed, “Why are we wasting so much paper here, while the play is talking about saving trees?” Perhaps the creators want us to experience the absurdity of our lives through the ironical position that we are placed in.