“To transition or to transit?”

Reviewer: Edward Eng
Performance: 21 February 2019

A translucent ellipse gazes like a cloud from the sky of the room. Then a mechanical buzz asks the actors to come onstage.

This is playwright-director Stanley Seah’s idea of purgatory, as billed, although the first 15 minutes of the play feel open-ended enough to suggest some sort of conceit around the idea of ‘transitioning’. Perhaps this is a play hinting at the instability of youth (as suggested by the young actors), or the idea of gender transitioning (says the clinical attire)?

Unfortunately, Toy Factory’s Transition Room carries little beyond the initial idea in terms of script. Its main character, Mike (Christer Jon Aplin), essentially repeats the question, “Why am I here?” through every phase of the Room. Sometimes he asks other questions, like “Why are HDBs so expensive?”, but the effect remains the same.

The answers given are mostly half-hearted and inconsequential. This is fine because it reflects life itself. However, it becomes a real issue when Mike barely seems to care about the answers to his questions. But if we are not meant to care about him, then why make him the sole protagonist?

But the rest of the play is not bad simply because Mike is such an unlikeable character. Dramaturgically, there is little precision in handling ideas of meaning, the self, and purpose. This results in a text that does not tease absurdly or post-dramatically. It is superficially funny because of gags, and not because of any underlying meaning-making. There are also several careless transition scenes that do not shake the metaphysics of the play, and instead elicits random laughs.

The play ends abruptly, after Mike breaks into another superficial pontification. The final point is something about how it matters little what choice he makes, because death equalises. The problem is that there are many far more humanistic plays in existence that reach the same conclusion.

Of the play’s design, Vick Low’s murmuring fridge buzz is interesting but could be put to better use in another play. Similarly, the incidental usage of Tai Zi Feng’s cool-tinged strip lighting to heighten tension does not substitute well for the lack of tension in the text itself.

All that said, the plus point for Transition Room is its supporting cast. The play has unearthed some unexpected gems in its actors by giving them character roles they have made their own. Kaykay Nizam, for instance, has reaffirmed my opinion that he can mesmerise even without having anything meaningful to say. Opposite him, Marc Valentine Chia is a rollicking good time.

Victoria Chen and Jazmine Monaz are a double-threat, shifting effortlessly between their foil roles and unguarded millennial asides. Meanwhile, Tan Hui Er wields innocence like a weapon, turning a massage scene from routine to layers of pointed examination.

I look forward to watching them elsewhere in the future.

“Better On Page Than On Stage“

Reviewer: Cordelia Lee
Performance: 21 July 2018

Comprising 12 independent vignettes, Toy Factory’s theatrical adaptation of the anthology Here and Beyond: 12 Stories attempts to bring Singaporean literature to life.

The key word here is “attempts”.

Adapting local literature from page to stage is commendable – it promotes an undervalued genre of work that captures our local sentiments and culture. Good intentions, however, can only go so far if the execution isn’t up to par.

The ensemble is stretched quite thin, with each actor playing multiple roles across the 12 scenes. This has possibly limited the time and energy dedicated to developing each of the characters in the rehearsal phase, which has its consequences.

Accents are sometimes inconsistent with the information provided about a character, which reduces the believability of fictional portrayals. Two Singaporean teenagers (Tan Rui Shan and Abby Lai) grow up on a ranch in Nevada. They live in a bubble, kept at home by their overprotective father and banned from owning anything of Western influence. Although their parents speak a Singaporean-accented English peppered with colloquial slangs, the girls converse in a standard English devoid of any Singaporean accent. They sound nothing like their parents – the people who are their greatest influence. In another scene, the ensemble transforms into the crowd of New Yorkers that Hidayah (Rusydina Afiqah) recounts. Their voices surround her, bombarding her with ignorant questions regarding race, nationality and her command of English. There is just one problem. These “New Yorkers” all sound Singaporean.

Instantly, the flimsy illusion of this fictional world shatters.

This broken illusion is not helped by inconsistent sound design. The awkwardly timed cues and bipolar volume offers more harm than help when establishing setting. A loud bass drone sends reverberations through the seats, overpowering Irfan Kasban’s lines as a judge in one scene. Later, intermission music drags into the next scene, drowning out Rui Shan’s monologue as she competes with it to be heard. As it clumsily fades to silence, we wait expectantly to hear something else, but the intended ambient music does not arrive until a quarter of the way through the monologue. Things also get confusing when the ensemble rolls luggage around while what sounds like the buzz from a crowded football stadium plays over the speakers. My best bet? This is Russia’s airport.

That said, there are rare moments that make these two hours slightly bearable. Petrina Tan’s lighting design consistently builds a dynamic mise-en-scene. Tinted aerial spotlights flash repeatedly along the length of a stationary make-shift car at one point, creating the visual effect of passing streetlamps. With that alone, she creates the illusion of characters driving a vehicle onstage. Acting wise, Irfan’s performance as a toddler is noteworthy. As he fumbles around with imaginary toys and innocently states the obvious, he charms the audience with his heart-warmingly childlike honesty.

But at the end of the day, Toy Factory’s Here and Beyond starts everywhere, gets nowhere, and is two hours I would rather spend elsewhere. It has lots to tidy up, lest someone add the word “hope” behind its title.