“The Place where there is No Darkness”

Reviewer: Liana Gurung
Performance: 22 August 2019

Performed by the Singapore Repertory Theatre’s The Young Company as part of its graduation showcase, 1984 is a demanding and ambitious piece that showcases the rigorous training and range of its cast. Much like the novel, the play swings from poles: spanning horror to humour, love to hatred.

At its heart is Winston Smith (Marwyn Ho), the protagonist and thought-criminal brought to mise-en-scène trial before Big Brother. In contrast to the starched, dark jumpsuits of the other Citizens, Winston is dressed in baggy white, with his hair shorn off, despondent. At the point where the play begins, he has been separated from his lover and co-conspirator, Julia. His confession unspools with his found diary as basis; two of the Citizens act it out, telling the story of how Winston and Julia met, and fell in love.

The costuming is sophisticated: each cast member is pin-neat with slicked hair and standard-issue combat boots. The set is just as thoughtful. The focal point of the stage is the screen at the back. The modular set pieces, sliding in and out to bring the audience from room to room, preserve a cutout for the pinhole of Big Brother’s eye to peer through. That said, some of these design elements end up not working so well in practice. For instance, the screen is often blocked by the cast, who periodically huddle in front it as they mouth Big Brother’s creed, eyes fixated on the apparent image that some of the audience is thus unable to see.

Good ideas are also sometimes not executed to their largest extent, as in the garbled pre-performance message that fails to conjure Orwellian sentiment over the lo-fi crackle of too much static.

But the cast shines as an ensemble. Monologues can be slightly stilted and emotionally effusive declarations. Antagonists can sometimes come across as thuggish and flatly menacing. But in moments where they play off and build upon each other, the cast is a well-oiled combination of moving parts – their chemistry is charming and much-needed in a production as heavy as 1984. The audience unhitches a breath as M. Shankari’s Mr. Parsons and Amalia Thoumire’s Syme exchange comedic barbs with a more innocent Winston. We sigh as Shaik Nazray and Tiara Yap fall for each other as faux Winston and Julia, all the while tamping down the creeping dread of Winston’s reality and future as he watches from the stage foreground. As an ensemble, the cast is a crystallization of manic, frenetic energy, chilling as they stare into the middle distance, looking at an unseen Big Brother tucked within the audience.

As the cast take their last bows as part of The Young Company, I look forward to seeing them in productions elsewhere – bringing with them their dedication, sense of timing, and a little bit of that 1984 fanaticism.

“Sly Fun With Fantastic Mr Fox”

Reviewer: Isaac Tan
Performance: 16 August 2019

In order to survive and feed his family, Mr Fox steals food from three mean farmers (Boggis, Bunce, and Bean). Enraged and humiliated, the farmers go all out to exterminate the foxes, forcing them to go underground. Will Mr Fox manage to save his family?

How do you stretch such a simple plot out to an hour, while retaining the attention of 400-odd children?

By surprising the audience at every turn, and roping in the children to help the foxes dig.

Fresh from directing Faust/Us for Nine Years Theatre, Cherilyn Woo proves that she can entertain children, too. She utilises every nook, cranny, and fly bar of the theatre as characters and props appear from everywhere. The pre-show segment in which the characters teach the children how to dig pulls the young audience into the action, and encourages them to imagine the animals going farther underground.

Vester Ng shines as the charismatic and quick-witted Mr Fox, who seems to be able to get out of any situation at the drop of a hat. He is complemented by Isabella Chiam’s charming performance as a loving Mrs Fox to both her husband and her children. The little exchanges the couple have, and the clear concern they have for each other, is endearing to watch.

Huge kudos go to Ric Liu, Sugie Phua, and Sharon Sum, who double up as the fox children and the farmers. It is no mean feat to play two very different characters in consecutive scenes, while dashing for a complete costume change. The comic sequences among them as the bumbling farmers are tight, which adds to the general mirth of the show.

All of this is rounded up by Juni Goh as the Badger, whose gentle demeanour invites the audience into story as he narrates and offers witty commentary – often at the expense of the farmers.

That said, the show does drag on a little, especially during the digging sequences in order to give the actors time to change costumes. Additionally, Mr Fox addressing the morality of his actions by saying that his family needs to survive, and that every parent would do anything for his child seems unsatisfactory — do the ends justify the means?

While Mr Fox did not dig himself out of that moral quandary, that did not detract from an enjoyable show that emphasises the importance of kinship and community.

“Truth hurts”

Reviewer: Myle Yan Tay
Performance: 4 April 2019

In the penultimate scene of The Truth by French playwright Florian Zeller, Michael, played by Lim Yu-Beng, asks his best friend if the play they’re in is a comedy or a tragedy.

It is entirely possible that this is Zeller telling the audience that The Truth will defy such neat conventions. It’s unfortunate then that at this point in the play, any answer to that question would have been thoroughly disappointing.

The Truth is the latest production by the Singapore Repertory Theatre, directed by Ng Choon Ping. It explores the theme of infidelity, and intends to challenge whether the truth is indeed what we want. And the play does explore this – but only in its very final moments. The rest of the time feels like we are just waiting for something to happen.

If we treat The Truth as a comedy, it does not meet the mark. Its central premise comes off like a dinner table joke, except it is 90 minutes long and far less punchy. There are amusing moments, like Michael pretending to be his mistress’ elderly aunt on the phone, but these stick out as rare instances of absurdity in a play that is otherwise tiresomely ordinary.

For it to be a tragedy, the audience should be invested in the characters or relationships, so they will care when things take a turn for the worse. But not a single character is remotely likable, and none of the relationships are emotionally engaging. Though the actors put in a commendable effort to navigate the play’s repetitive dialogue, they cannot overcome the fact that each character speaks with the exact same voice. The central relationship between Michael and his mistress is profoundly uninteresting and it is never clear why an audience member should care that they stay together or break up. Michael is so unlikable that even though the play eventually delivers his comeuppance – as most tragedies do – this reviewer is left wondering why we needed to wait so long for this surprise.

That leaves The Truth with the final option: That it is not trying to be either a comedy or a tragedy, and instead wants to sit between both. But this comes at a severe cost. The play never goes to any novel place with its comedy. Neither does it dive deep into any of its shallow characters to find some tragic truth. Instead, we are left on the border of each, getting an idea of what the play could have been if it settled on either option.

“Bloody bickering”

Reviewer: Myle Yan Tay
Performance: 21 November 2018

Guards at the Taj centres on the relationship between two characters – Babur and Humayun, the eponymous guards at the Taj Mahal – the night before the mausoleum is unveiled. With only two actors onstage for the entire 90 minutes, this production lives and dies by the cast and script.

Thankfully, Ghafir Akbar and Jay Saighal have a masterful control over the space. The banter between them feels lived-in, like two brothers bickering. Saighal imbues Babur’s monologues with clarity and passion, a great foil to Ghafir’s precise and focused Humayun. Their chemistry, which makes them such a joy to watch, also makes it that much more painful when their relationship is challenged.

Rajiv Joseph’s script is both extremely funny and tense. The jokes are well carried by the two characters, as they reveal more about what they want and how they view the world. Almost every gag comes back later in the play, sometimes in a much more severe context. What made the audience laugh moments before becomes a clear source of tension and conflict. When this happens and one scene sharply zooms to the next, Guards at the Taj is electric.

But when these transitions feel slow, the play lurches. The transitions are beautifully underscored by Mervin Wong’s music, and Brian Gothong Tan’s multimedia add an additional layer to each movement, with a particularly fascinating nightmarish wildlife sequence. Yet we are distracted by excessive changes to a very bare set by the two stagehands. It is hard to say whether this was a deliberate choice, as it could be a commentary on the menial jobs nobody wants to do – much like the guards’ task. But it feels out of place, and the play loses its momentum every time a long transition occurs. Additionally, Petrina Dawn Tan’s lighting design already carries such weight to each change of setting. The physical set could have been relied on less when Tan’s work already brings such pronounced ambience and setting.

Lastly, there is a late twist in the narrative, where one of the characters no longer feels as driven by his internal motivations. It still leads to a powerful moment, but it comes across somewhat like a cop-out after such strong characterization throughout the play.

“Play it again, Sam.”

Reviewer: Christian W. Huber
Performance: 24 May 2018

Whilst sitting on the outdoor grounds of Fort Canning Park waiting for the commencement of Singapore Repertory Theatre’s Shakespeare in the Park production of Julius Caesar, this reviewer is reminded of watching a baseball match live at a stadium. It is not so much about catching the game itself, but it’s an event for friends to gather and socialise over snacks and drinks.

However, in this instance, it is very clear once the drama begins that you’re there for the the play itself, too. Ideally staged at a heritage park with a hauntingly dark history, the piece effectively rouses the spirits as patrons are immediately swept into the drama unfolding onstage. The action takes place against the city lights, with the occasional revving of sports cars bragging its rights down the main road, and sirens going off to tackle an emergency. But even though these external elements are occasionally distracting, the audience remains generally attentive and engaged by the political chaos, bloodshed and horror that ensue after the main character’s assassination. “Let slip the dogs of war,” as Mark Anthony succinctly prophesises.

Directed by seasoned British director Guy Unsworth, this updated and very ‘now’ version of the production is bold. It stars a cast of largely local and Malaysian artists – a mixture of veterans and upcoming talents. The lead performers are generally strong (Julie Wee as Cassius and Daniel Jenkins as Casca deserve special mention for their wonderful managing of the text and its rhythm), but the diction of the more inexperienced supporting actors do make for an uneven performance for this reviewer. However, these grouses are few and far between.

The clever use of multimedia helps to communicate the chaos and fickleness of the people of R.O.M.E., a seven-nation coalition whose leaders have gathered for a summit. Whilst it feels a bit too TV-like at times for this reviewer, it is engaging overall. Watching Brutus’ and Mark Anthony’s speech (the one that begins with “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears…”) being played out on screens in real time highlights how easily public opinion can change in an instant.

There are not many productions out there that allows one to enjoy a picnic with friends whilst experiencing great storytelling at the same time. It is kudos to SRT for taking on the mammoth task of bringing back Shakespeare in the Park, what with the logistics and high costs involved. Even though it has now become a biennial (rather than annual) event, it still provides a platform for creative talents to continue to capture and present Shakespeare’s universal themes, and ensure that his works remain relevant and thought-provoking to the young generation of the times.

“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.

“Hand to God”

Reviewer: Myle Yan Tay
Performance: 29 April 2017

As the lights go up, we see children’s toys suspended several metres above the stage. Ominously lit, this is reminiscent of imagery from The Exorcist or other films about demonic possession. A grim monologue ensues about humankind’s anarchical beginnings and the dubious origins of morality. But the speech is not performed by an ominous hulking Satan or the leader of a modern-day cult but by a blue sock puppet with buttons for eyes and fraying seams. It is by balancing heavy philosophical material with an almost puerile sense of humour upon which Hand to God operates, creating a funny and poignant piece on repression.

The ultimate highlight of the production is Thomas Pang’s incredible performance as Jason and Tyrone (Jason’s sock-puppet). As Jason, Pang exudes innocence, bitterness, and rage. Yet as Tyrone, he fluctuates between hilarious, chilling, and surprisingly sympathetic. He excels at both characters, but to describe it as two characters does a disservice to his performance. He switches between the two so fluently, holding entire scenes by himself.  The chemistry between Jason and Tyron almost makes us forget that Pang plays both, because the comedic timing and contrast is so sharp. His ease at navigating between the timid Jason and the bold Tyrone keeps us constantly entertained and engaged: even when Tyrone screams and raves, we see Jason behind the cracks, afraid of what he has unleashed.

The entire production team, especially the production designer, Susannah Henry, and the lighting designer, Lim Woan Wen, must be commended for doing so much with such a small space. The audience let out audible gasps at several scene transitions, stunned by the ways the simple set (a church classroom) transforms to bring the characters to new locations. The set design and its numerous secrets brings us back to the theme of repression, leaving the audience wondering what else lies beneath the surface.

Every element of this production is focused and purposeful. Though the depiction of sex could potentially be considered graphic, it is clearly brought to an extreme to explore the binary of repression and release. Even the intermission music, pounding heavy rock music, serves a purpose. It brings the audience into the psyche of the protagonist and provides a sharp contrast with the light, bubbly house music before the show began.

My only qualm lies with its finale. The push and pull between Jason and Tyrone reaches its climax, only for the resolution to be rejected and the climax prolonged. Although this is rounded off by a nice image, elements of the finale feel forced for us to reach this moment, perhaps coming at the cost of a neater and tighter closing.

By juggling comedy and drama, repression and release, slave morality and sock puppets, SRT puts up an exciting and adventurous show, challenging us to free ourselves, but maybe just not as far as Tyrone has.

“Constellations”

Reviewer: Myle Yan Tay
Performance: 11 March 2017

Science fiction on the stage is always difficult. We often conceive the genre of science fiction to demand so much more than the stage can provide. But at its best, science fiction is about the small rather than the large, real characters living in extraordinary circumstances. Singapore Repertory Theatre’s (SRT) production of Constellations (directed by Bruce Guthrie) excels because it understands this – that at the core of compelling science fiction are people.

Nick Payne’s sharp script charts the relationship of a couple across the multiverse, stopping at key moments in their romance. The script explores questions of time and potential, with a keen eye on the inevitable.

Though the script is well crafted, the standouts are Edward Harrison and Stephanie Street’s phenomenal performances.

Due to the nature of the script, many scenes are played over and over again, each time with different textures. In less experienced hands, these scenes will come across too tedious to endure, but Harrison and Street give such detailed and nuanced performances that the audience cannot help but be enthralled. Both performers go far beyond varying between emotions, like sad or angry. When the scenes are redone, it is as if we are watching wholly new characters with changed backgrounds, existing within the same body. The precision of both actors is an incredible feat as they juggle between different universes and psychologies.

There are moments within the show that feel incongruous. In one reality, Roland (played by Harrison) assaults Marianne (played by Street). This startling instance compromises the immersion of the audience, sticking out as the most severe action taken by either character. Later on, an extended sequence in sign language starts strong but loses its lustre. And throughout the script, the characters return to a single running conversation that frames the entire narrative. The neon orange lighting and the echoed sound effects of these scenes make the characters appear as if they are in some surreal setting.

But these moments only feel inconsistent because they inhibit the actors’ performances. The fact that these moments feel out-of-place is more of a testament to Street and Harrison’s realistic performances in the rest of the play than anything.

While we jump through universes, what remains is the heart of the piece. I find myself rooting for both characters, despite them constantly changing. Though conceptually, the piece is about the infinity of the cosmos, its ultimate focus is on Roland and Marianne.

The conceit of the multiverse is merely a tool to explore the intimate human connection. And with Payne’s insightful writing and Harrison and Street’s stellar performances, Bruce Guthrie turns good science fiction into great theatre.

“说白了，对大家都没有好处”

Reviewer: Neo Hai Bin | 梁海彬
Performance: 26 September 2016

我知道台上会出现一幅白色的画。但我没料到，SRT呈现的“Art”，竟然给观众展示了3幅画。

第二幅画自然是台上三个角色所构成的画。当观众在台上看到三个人时，他们的关系已经破裂，观众只能够从字里行间和人物互动猜测他们15年的感情究竟有多深，就如我们只能够从那一幅白色的画，猜测画里头究竟隐藏着什么内容。

第三幅画竟就是布景。布景向台左倾斜，也预告我们即将看到的，濒临决裂的友谊。布景上画出了墙壁、玻璃门、以及门外的树木绿叶,和白色的画形成了强烈对比。什么是艺术？一副白色的画揭示了人性的弱点，那是艺术吗？布景的画好漂亮，却只提供功能性作用，那是艺术吗？恰如人与人之间的关系究竟是要坦诚好呢，还是美美地维持表象好呢？

Marc 在剧末说了一个故事：在白云下，白雪中，一个滑雪者在白茫茫的雪坡滑走。Marc 以谎言让自己相信那幅白色的画是有内容的。有个笑话：一个小朋友画画时交上了白卷，老师问：“为什么交白卷？”小朋友答道：“我画了，画了一片草地，还有一头牛！”老师问道：“草呢？”小朋友说：“被牛吃光了！”老师问：“牛呢？”小朋友说：“吃饱了，走了！”当代艺术需要消费者的诠释才能够成立，两者彼此需要。剧中三个朋友也正是这样的唇亡齿寒、相濡以沫的关系。剧中人物的友谊维持了15年，早就有了分裂迹象，有趣的是，三个人都无法离开彼此，形成困境，只好不断地说服自己留下来的理由。导演选择在台上摆放三张沙发、三个酒杯，假如能够通过人物运用道具的方式，来彰显三人之间的politics（权益关系、厉害关系），也许观众可以有更多的联想与想象。

“Art”通过“友谊”影射现实社会的多种关系，包括人与人、官与民、国与国—— 人事，与政治。最后Marc 以一个 white lie（善意的谎言）维护了友情，揭示了处理人事时最最无可奈何的行为。“Art”清楚阐述：谎言是必须且必要的。说“白”了，对大家都没有好处。这是维护任何关系的关隘，也是政治的道理。

台上的三幅画：白色的画、布景上面的画、三个人物构成的画…… 相辅相成，让观众从三个不同的角度看戏思考：什么是关系？什么是人事？什么是政治？什么是人性？就这一点，我有联想：水墨画有一种哲学，叫做“留白”。古老的东方智慧崇尚在艺术里、在人事里、在政治上，给予对方“留白”。那是处理人事的最高艺术。

当然，这已经是我看戏后的联想，笔止于此，否则就与“Art”无关了。

“一代辉煌的结束”

Reviewer: Lim Wei Bin | 林维彬
Performance: 30 April 2016

福康宁公园上演了新加坡专业剧团在“公园中的莎士比亚”系列的最后一部作品——《罗密欧与朱丽叶》。这部压卷之作也撞上了莎士比亚400年的祭日，可谓有留念之意参杂其中，意味深长。

舞台设计犹新，以一本开放式的书本为主，演员于上面演出，在月光下显得格外璀璨。这开放式的舞台，不但呈现新意，设计新颖，同时也给了观众开放式的阅读。《罗密欧与朱丽叶》是十六世纪的作品，但在这21世纪的新加坡上演的用意是什么？主角二人都是西方人，而在这场演出中却以本地人来演，又是为什么？新加坡不缺乏剧场，戏院，空地，为何又选择了福康宁公园？看完整部戏后，这种种因素都带给我许多疑问。

先看看大环境，福康宁公园在新加坡的历史上是一个很重要的基地。它曾是个马来王朝的禁山，安葬着第五位新加坡拉王朝国王——伊斯干达沙的坟墓，他有一段悲剧爱情，疑王妃不贞，杀之，后亡国。它也有升旗山之称，是殖民地带来的文明开化与贸易沟通。它还是个作战堡垒。从这几段简历而言，剧团选择了在这个重要基地上演最后一场“公园中的莎士比亚”系列是否意味着一个系列的“经典死亡”，让它在这个地点“结束生命”？与此同时，也用这个历史性的地点来祭一代文豪的圣灵？

罗密欧与朱丽叶的悲剧似乎与伊斯干达的经历相近，是一种再现还是恶性循环？一般上，戏剧都在室内歌剧院上演，这部却在星空下演出，除了体现其浪漫，也给了观众一种真实感，仿佛跨越时空，身历其境。

至于本地演员和语境的选择，让人深思，本地的文化与16世纪的文化真能够成对比吗？演员们真的能够演出莎士比亚的味道吗？致生致死可歌可泣的爱情，虽说是戏剧式地出自一代文豪之笔，现实生活中真的有致死不渝的爱情吗？多少人又愿意为爱人殉情？在一个经济发达，却又人情冷漠的社会里，真挚的爱情真的是无所不在吗？本地演员在演这部戏时，他们真的意会得到上世纪那股浓烈的荷尔蒙吗？无论如何，我相信此番演出的目的便是提醒观众，珍惜当下，怜惜眼前人。人们因为过于着重自我，往往忽略身边的人。由新加坡人自个扮演经典角色给了观众一种真实感，拉近与观众之间的距离，内容虽是外来的，但演员毕竟是本国人。看戏时便减少了“异族障碍”的刻板印象。

“公园中的莎士比亚”系列的最后一部选择了《罗密欧与朱丽叶》，我认为与死亡的结局有关，这个系列非常受欢迎，部部都是深入民心的经典，可意味着一代辉煌的结束。演员的隆重谢幕，观众的掌声热烈，展现不舍，令笔者感动。