“A Dream Under The Southern Bough: Reverie”

Reviewer: Amanda Leong
Performance: 6 April 2019

A Dream Under Southern Bough: Reverie by Toy Factory is the second installment of a planned trilogy commissioned by the Singapore International Festival of Arts (SIFA), as part of an initiative to encourage more large-scale Singapore works. It is an ambitious project, as this is the first modern stage adaptation of Tang Xian Zu’s Ming Dynasty classic.

The play comprises two worlds. The first is earthly, where we meet Chun Yu Fen (Tang Shao Wei), a disgraced naval officer who spends his days drinking and womanising. The second is the dream world of the Ant Kingdom, where we are introduced to its inhabitants, including Princess Yao Fang (Jodi Chan), and the Ant Fairies who are sent to find her a suitable husband and future king.

I am amazed by how this production integrates these two vastly different worlds. In some ways, this can also serve as an analogy for modern-day life, as technology blurs the real and imagined, the public and the private.

That said, the plot becomes predictable once it is made known to us that Yao Fang wants to find a husband, as Chun Yu Fen is the obvious candidate. It does not help that the piece plods along at such a slow pace. Furthermore, the Mandarin dialogue tends to be quite metaphorical, which makes it difficult to match what’s being spoken onstage with the translated English surtitles. This causes me to become further disengaged from this world.

Another issue I have with the play is how female characters are portrayed. While the Ant Fairies are meant to be flirtatious and feminine characters, the way they flirt with each other soon becomes grating and disingenuous, while also feeding into the male gaze. Since this is supposed to be a contemporary adaptation, it begs the question of whether such out-dated depictions still deserve a place on today’s stage.

Ultimately, though, this play is an ambitious attempt to reimagine a dream world from the past in a contemporary setting.

“Enduring Prism’s lamenting angry lecture on urban change.”

Reviewer: Christian W. Huber
Performance: 23 February 2017

When asked on a feedback form after the interval free 90-minute production of Prism, “what was your favourite part,” this reviewer is tempted to say the main sponsor’s surprise goody bag of Songhe Mixed Fragrant Rice and a bottle of Refined Canola Oil. Having sat through a plodding and torturous first night production focused on urban change, the goody bag is a real surprise and treat!

Promising a renewed and stripped down all-Singaporean version of its 2003 production which boasted a multi-lingual cast and crew, a US$1 million dollar budget, and toured six different Asian countries, Toy Factory Production’s 2017 boot-up does not benefit from the strip-down. Instead, it places a dampener on their season opener. The polite, yet dissatisfied curtain call from the audience illustrates how tired and preachy this piece continues to be.

With the viewers’ lack of investment, Prism will have a hard time finding its wings during the run.

It is wise for writer-director Goh Boon Teck to hand the directing helm of this production to someone else, but then the cracks lie within the realm of the director – Rei Poh – in not focusing to make the piece of urban change more engaging and less didactic.

With seasoned theatre practitioners – whose credits range from the stage, TV, and other multi-disciplinary visual mediums – showcasing their skills admirably, one is not really clear on the style of performance they are expected to present. Is it a multi-visual / lingual, stylistic, contemporary play with hints of poetic and symbolic gesturing? The journey of the main protagonist – Aman (played by Fir Rahman) – confronting his inner guilt and conscience, but at the same time having to do his duty as an official to evict the dwellers of The Surrounding City – falls flat with a charisma-less performance.

As he meanders and wanders through the city, so does the audience – away from him.

The set by first time set designer Leong Hon Kit is not pretty, though it does not have to be. A landscape that has a sense of aged and decaying beauty –  rather than the grey, post-apocalyptic one presented – would definitely raise the stakes for the viewer to care. Whilst the consistent crackling sound of radioactivity (to demonstrate the impending arrival of the nuclear power plant), adds some tension, the cold Surrounding City leaves little desire to save it from its impending demolition.

If we don’t invest in the space being demolished, we can lament all we want. If something better comes up, then it is time to relish what memory there is, hold it in one’s heart, then start afresh.

With Toy Factory’s endurance and respect in the Singapore theatre scene for over 25 years, the hope is that they can refocus and concentrate on simplifying revisited pieces which are relevant, and not to alienate the millennial audience in not caring for the piece as a whole.

“One and Only. Two and Only?”

Reviewer: Isaac Lim
Performance: 29 August 2016

There are some works that are revived due to popular demand, and then there are some that return as sequels because there are more stories to tell. I have no idea where Innamorati Two lies.

Billed as a sequel to Innamorati (2014), the musical about chasing dreams in the music scene which shoehorned Malaysian singer Eric Moo’s songs into the show, Innamorati Two has almost zero link to its predecessor. Its Chinese title translates roughly to “only two” as compared to “one and only” for the first show.

This new musical written by Jiang Daini and directed by Goh Boon Teck, is set in a whimsical land of Lolilok (I’m unsure if it has any connections with Goldilock), with seven characters whose hair are dyed in different neon colours. This reviewer stepped out of the theatre not understanding what had happened in the 90 minutes, at all.

“Innamorati” refers to lovers in Italian, in particular stock characters in theatre shows that face various obstacles before meeting that one true love.

There are characters that end up as lovers, and predictably so. However, that is just one element in the musical. An An (played by Stella Seah), a supposed best-selling novelist, is attempting to write her next work. Everyone else are characters in that story as they try their best to create a narrative.

The characters in general are all weak and obtrusive. They have little to tell of their back-stories. They are but cardboard thin caricatures, and do not develop at all throughout the play. The world they create is not inviting, but leaves audience with several holes to plug instead.

Returning actors Sugie Phua and Wong Jing Lun offer sub-par performances, perhaps due to the characters they play. Wong sang off-key several times (one isn’t sure if it’s intentional) as an autistic boy who tends to a barter trade stall in the town square. His character has the most potential, but it is mostly unrealised.

The songs in the musical are written and composed by the actors together with the playwright, and arranged by Elaine Chan. None of the tunes stood out, and they feel like they were once again forced into the work. The actors incessantly break out into songs at the most awkward moments as if there must be a quota of songs to sing for the show to be considered a musical.

Credits to Tai Zi Feng, the set and lighting designer, for creating beautiful sets and scenes that make the fictional world come alive, perhaps the only saving grace of the show.

Sometimes, “one and only” makes a thing more precious.

“一沙一世界 – 从鸠摩罗什看见自己”

Reviewer: Neo Hai Bin | 梁海彬
Performance: 29 May 2016

2016年的《鸠摩罗什》是相隔20年后再度重演的舞台剧。

开场前，观众看见舞台下方的沙地（由糙米粒形成沙地），沙地上有纸造人，是两个牵着骆驼的人。于是，观众知道《鸠》的传奇故事必然从这块小小的沙地中衍生。舞台布景呈现绵延的荒漠沙丘景象，演员们在沙丘上行走行动—— 沙的意象贯彻整部戏，我不禁想起英国诗人威廉‧布莱克的《天真之歌》：

一沙一世界，一花一天堂

掌中握無限，剎那即永恆

这首诗其实和佛学观点不谋而合。佛经里有“须弥藏芥子，芥子纳须弥”（《维摩诘所说经》〈不思议品〉）之说；《华严经》亦有：“一一微尘中，各现无边刹海；刹海之中，复有微尘；彼诸微尘内，复有刹海；如是重重，不可穷尽。”

以小看大，局部隐含整体—— 这是佛学宇宙观的精髓。

于是，导演以沙的意象，让观众从鸠摩罗什的个人事迹中，看到了一个时代的政治权利斗争，如何影响了个人，甚至是几千年后的佛教影响。

剧本反复强调鸠摩罗什在困难面前的隐忍和坚毅，让他最后译了三百余部佛经，也汉译了《法华经》。但是鸠摩罗什再聪慧，也不能凭一己之力，办成大事。他身边的人为了让他能够成就大业，所做出的牺牲和付出，实不亚于他。沙漠正是由沙粒一点一点堆积起来的。让观众由一粒沙（鸠摩罗什），看到了众志成城的精神，正是这部戏的精髓。

该剧本也描述了鸠摩罗什的人性弱点，因而可贵。这个圣僧在母亲面前是忠孝两难的儿子、在爱情和理想之间有着难言的挣扎、在政治权利斗争之中的懦弱、在国君威迫之下竟然选择破佛门戒律…… 每一个都是极富戏剧张力的动人故事。只是，绚丽的灯光设计、精美的舞台布景、华丽的服饰、对鸠摩罗什的歌颂，不断地提醒我们：这是一个千年前的传奇、一位佛门大师的伟大事迹。我们仿佛在沙中窥看一个遥远的世界，却怎么也无法为鸠摩罗什投入更深的情感。所以，我们只能是在“看”戏。

能不能让我们从鸠摩罗什身上看见自己？假如能够从鸠摩罗什的身上，看见我们共通的人性弱点，因而思考自己生命的可能性—— 这会不会是今时今日我们观看《鸠》的意义呢？观赏戏剧，也许正是这样一个过程吧：见自己（沙粒／微尘）、见天地（身处的世界）、见众生（了解一一微尘中，各现无边刹海）。

“孤岛没有边缘，死亡没有空间”

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

一进场，就看见四个角色站在形似孤岛的高台上说故事。当一个角色说话时，其他角色在剧场内游走，穿梭观众群。四个同性恋者在同样的空间里永远没有交流、只有频频地交错。只有当他们站在平台上面，他们才有话语权，才能够说话。被社会压迫的同性恋者，需要可以说话的空间。

在平台下的我们，虽然和他们共享空间，却也永远只是在“观”他们，观众的参与只能以“看”的方式进行。导演想说什么？是不是想说人与人之间最无可奈何的事：我们可以尝试理解被压迫者的问题，但是永远无法真正了解他们？

四个角色都被社会里不同的力量压迫。其中有个角色，属于边缘中的边缘—— 虽然是同性恋者，但却被其他“完美的同性恋者”压迫排斥。剧中有两个女性角色，对于情节的推动是至关重要的：一个是姐姐，她不接受自己的同性恋弟弟。一个是马来妇女—— 马来妇女角色的安排值得深思：身为双重边缘人（马来族、女性），她也面对主流社会的某种压迫，但是她竟然可以不停打断另一个同性恋者的话语权，不断地插嘴，近乎粗暴地去压迫他。她不是我们想象中的powerless。原来这个社会不是“压迫者”和“被压迫者”如此的黑白分明。在一种情形下，你也许是受压迫者，但在另一种情形下，你也可以是一个压迫者。2016年，我们有着模糊且多重的身份。

“GRIND”最后安排了一个角色的死亡，但我却看不到死亡对其他四个角色、乃至同性恋社群、以及剧中整个社会，究竟有什么影响。剧中自杀的角色，对其他四个人物根本没有任何的影响或启发。于是，我们看到了最终极的压迫形式—— 一个被压迫者以死亡做出了最大的控诉，但是他的控诉却是最无声的，在社群里和社会里激不起丝毫的涟漪。

这个社会仍有许多被主流群体忽略的弱势群体，有的根本没有发声的媒介，他们面对的压迫是主流社会无法想象的。“GRIND”给予同性恋者话语权，直接明了地说出了同性恋者的处境。通过被压迫者的四个故事，“Grind”问我们：如何打破“压迫／被压迫”的恶性循环呢？“GRIND”没有给我们解答。但是，它也没有义务给我们解答。

“Walking into the forbidden world”

Reviewer: Beverly Yuen
Performance: 26 March 2016

Entering the theatre space, one draws associations of testicles, condoms, and sex. The space is filled with installations of globs hanging from ceilings and irregular platforms with four men standing on them. The shadows cast on the faces reveal intense emotions as they confess their secrets. This causes a vehement sense of uneasiness as one walks into the forbidden world of the characters.

Production designer Chris Chua, lighting designer Tai Zi Feng and sound designer Jing Ng adeptly integrate various stage elements to create the intimate world of the four gay men in Grind, which is directed by Goh Boon Teck.

Audience members are free to move around the room to listen, watch and react to the private lives of the four characters. At times, you may be detached from the characters. At others, they are up-close and personal as they could be speaking to your face or stripping right in front of you. This pulls me into the inner psyche of the characters as I experience what seems to be prohibited and yet real, sincere and powerful.

Pang (Chong Woon Yong) has found his life partner and has planned for a wedding, but the only thing which is incomplete is the lack of acceptance by his sister, his only family member. Tian (Juni Goh) is insecure about who he is in real life, and obsessively turns to social media to seek attention by hitting the gym compulsively and posting photos of his body online. Long (Mitchell Fang) actively strives for his rights as a gay man in a society where homosexuals are deprived of benefits meant only for the straight world. Gan (Stanley Seah) is a devoted Christian trapped between the condemnation of sin and embracing his sexuality. The actors sustain the piece with immense conviction, which is enhanced by a keen sense of rhythm and well-coordinated voice work. The actors also play different characters in the monologues of each lead character.

Written by Goh Boon Teck and Shar Pi’ee, the script is a commendable mix of humour, raw emotions, intelligent discourse, poetic revelation and analogies.  Biblical references highlight the agony and struggle that Gan has to go through. The cities of Gomorrah and Sodom (which gives rise to the word Sodomy) are cited as cities of sin as people indulged in sexual acts, especially the “unnatural acts” consisting of anal or oral sex. Such a reference compels one to ponder about the issue of homosexuality in today’s society. Have things changed? Perhaps things have changed. Rather than being punished, the cities of sin—from a Christian perspective—are flourishing and filled with tourists, as put forth by the playwrights in the play.

The shame of being gay eventually leads Gan to commit suicide, which can also be read as a sacrifice for the sake of those around him. While his life winds up tragically, Tian, Pang and Long seem to find liberation and hope through the symbolism of the Pink Dot celebration at Hong Lim Park, which brings the piece to its finale.

“A Honest Tribute for an Honest Man”

Reviewer: Gan Soon Rui
Performance: 19 September 2015

White Soliloquy (or its Chinese title, 白言) pays tribute to its titular character, Bai Yan, beyond the typical celebratory hurrah of the “he did this” or “he made that possible” narrative. Rather, it is the humbling story of an everyday man, performed in a monologue, of roles we are but all too familiar with; a son, a husband and a father.

Fascinated with theatre from a young age, Bai Yan (played by Timothy Wan), the only child in his family, seizes the opportunity to join a travelling dance troupe. From then on, he travels across Asia, meets the girl of his dreams, survives World War II and its hardships before eventually settling down in Singapore. Of course, as many older Singaporeans would have known, he eventually becomes a local television actor and helps groom a new generation of television stars.

Think along the lines of “小人物的心声” (voices of the ordinary people) par exemplar. In this case, Bai Yan strives to live according to his own principles. It is the story of his maturing: his eventual growth from a brash youth into the strong and dependable man who is willing to suffer in silence for his family.

With that said though, the performance is a little lacklustre.

The stage, which is kept simple with only hundreds of paper origami ships, is aesthetically appealing. When used in conjunction with the rotating platform placed at centre stage, it creates a rather poetic illusion of ships sailing around the globe.

Yet, it is also the same set that weighs the performance down. Don’t get me wrong. The mise-en-scene is well designed, but Wan does not inhabit it well.

While I understand the difficulty (truly, I do) of performing in a one man show, his reliance on stock characteristics for his other characters cannot live up to the mise-en-scene. True, it helps the audience to identify and recognize the characters when he switches roles, but precisely because it is a soliloquy in a simple setting that these switches fall flat and become one dimensional.

I guess in its own little way, it celebrates in the ordinariness of Bai Yan, something that all of us can relate to. Besides, it is no coincidence that White Soliloquy is part of the National Arts Council’s Silver Arts programme, a platform which advocates for active seniors participation and enjoyment.

“Too Little Said“

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 20 September 2015

My only recollection of a 96-year-old man is his appearance in Mediacorp’s annual Star Awards, sitting in as a guest of honor. This man has a frail frame and a wrinkled face, and there appears to be a story hidden underneath.

His name is Bai Yan.

Toy Factory’s restaging of White Soliloquy (its first iteration directed by Jalyn Han in 2010 won Nelson Chia his first Life Theatre Award for Best Actor) is a tribute to pioneers that shaped the theatrical/entertainment industries over the decades. It offers a glimpse into the life of Bai Yan, an actor who devoted much of his life to local theatrical, and became a legend in his own right. This is a heartfelt story of passion and tells the struggle of an actor who starts out in a Chinese dance troupe in China. He then travels across Asian countries, forming his own troupe and eventually settling in Singapore.

Acting as Bai Yan is the man of the show – Timothy Wan. He is a young, multi-talented rising actor that can sing, dance and act. It is a bonus point that he can also converse fluently in different dialects. His role is no doubt demanding, juggling between singing and movement. At times, he slips and drops lines but he does not let it affect him. Wan pulls off this hour-long monologue with convincing ease. White Soliloquy proves to be his strongest performance yet. He is definitely one to look out for in future productions.

It is a pity that this performance rushes through all the major moments in Bai Yan’s life, and leaves little space for the more emotive side of him. It is simply too short and provides only very short glimpses of his life. Its hurriedness eschews intimacy and fails to connect with the audience. I feel that there needs to be greater focus on his wife Ye Qin as an important person in his life.

While it is great to see Director Goh Boon Teck’s bold approach towards the restaging of Toy Factory’s better-known productions, this production is disappointing. The white paper ships that fill up the well-tailored stage can only go so far to please. The audience expects and indeed demands more than just the surface of his story.

“December Rains The Musical“

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 5 September 2015, 3pm

One Last Time?

When the rain stops, will you still be waiting?

A story spanning three generations and set in the tumultuous 50s in Singapore, December Rains returns for its third restaging. This iteration comes with an all-new cast and fresh storyline. The 2011 production garnered numerous nominations and awards in the 2011 Life! Theatre Awards, hence my great expectations for this staging.

This story revolves around Zhou Ying Xiong, head of his school’s student union. and him leading his fellow schoolmates to support the workers’ protest at a bus company. Andie Chen plays Ying Xiong comfortably. This is a role that bears more than a few similarities to his TV role in Mediacorp 8’s The Journey: Tumultuous Times. Before the plot degenerates into another Singapore History lesson (re: Sg50), the play switches its attention on the star-crossed lovers: Ying Xiong and Chen Li Qing (Chriz Tong).

Zhang Ming Li (Sugie Phua), the pivotal character that drives the plot, is a stand-out. The man can act and sing. His vocal prowess is best seen in his solo (complete to dance in the background). Chen, on the other hand, is glaringly underwhelming in his duet with Tong. He can barely project his voice when he sings and it really does make one question his role as a male lead in a musical.

Set designer Eucien Chia creates a grand movable stage, with set pieces seamlessly moving across it. There were several set pieces which not only denoted the historical period, but underscored Singapore’s struggle for independence. The show that I watched, however, the stage crew can be seen draped in black, moving across the stage in the background pushing the set pieces, shattering the illusion.

The show is ponderous in the last half hour and ends on a rather cheesy and unnecessarily ambiguous note. It leaves me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the music is excellent. Lyricist Liang Wern Fook and composer Jimmy Ye creates splendid original musical compositions not to be missed. And, on the other hand, this staging is problematic, failing to live up to its reputation in spite of the efforts of the creative team.

“Buckets of tears“

Reviewer: Gloria Ho
Performance: 29 August 2015

December Rains is melodramatic, and then some. Hopeless romantic Chen Li Qing gets together with charismatic and popular student Zhou Ying Xiong (yes, his name literally means ‘hero’), with the help of her best friend – who also happens to be her secret admirer – Zhang Ming Li. Naturally, Li Qing and Ying Xiong are driven apart by Li Qing’s disapproving parents. Ming Li then withholds Li Qing’s letter disclosing that she is *dramatic pause* pregnant with Ying Xiong’s child as Ying Xiong sails off to China to pursue his ambitions.

Adding to this unoriginal and hackneyed plot are the acutely impoverished characters. The reason behind why Korean dramas continue to enjoy high viewership, despite their tacky storyline, is because of the characterizations. These television soaps present fleshed out characters with complex psychological landscapes, dynamic chemistry and believable relationships with one another. Unfortunately, none of the listed factors are present in this musical. The characters’ motives and motivations remain shallow; their actions mostly emotional reactions to the event-driven plot and meaningful communications snuffed out for a poorly constructed series of misunderstandings.

The musical numbers are catchy tunes but they cannot save this trite and corny plot. The strong 18-member supporting cast is also woefully underused. More often than not, their presence appears to be scene-fillers, creating a mini, visually-pleasing spectacle (hint: think wedding ballroom, school, shipping port and airport).

December Rains totters between a television soap and a pop concert, but having the entertainment value of neither. This reviewer’s word of advice is to purchase the CD soundtrack instead – not only it is more economic, it also encapsulates the experience comme il faut.