“What Matters?“

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 17 October 2015, 3pm

If friendship is peanuts, it has to be in limitless supply. And when you crack each peanut, you will always find peanuts of different sizes, and sometimes, nothing. It is easy to crack them, but the results are unpredictable.

As cheesy as this sound, Our Company successfully pulls off the production Jonathan, David & Me as an honest, nostalgic and poignant piece. It questions the volatility of friendship and leaves me slightly envious of the trials of the three friends, Jonathan (Vignesh Singh), David (Jamie Shawn Tan) & Mervyn (KS Yeo).

Two stories run parallel during the show – Jonathan and Mervyn confronting David for his illicit affair with a 19-year-old; and the story of Gilgamesh & Enkidu. The Goddess Aruru created Enkidu to get rid of Gilgamesh for being arrogant. The plot takes on a humorous tone, battling out in a slow-motion Kungfu showdown. They end up best friends, and go about slaying monsters. In the process, they offend the gods, and a curse befalls onto Enkidu. While coping with the loss of his best friend, Gilgamesh goes on a journey to find immortality, only to have those plans foiled.

This ancient story analogises the adventures of the three friends. As Mervyn narrates their friendship, tracing it from teenage life to adulthood, I find myself reflecting on what is yet to come in my life. What kind of friendship should I actively pursue?

Lighting & set designer Manuel Garrido creates an irregularly-shaped quadrilateral space, surrounded by peanuts, and the actors cleverly work within the space with minimal props. Altogether, director & playwright Luke Kwek stitches all the elements of this devised work into a personal yet relatable piece.

Jonathan, David & Me is not for every audience member. It can come across cliché, glorifying the idealistic notion of friendships. This is Our Company’s third production since 2013. I am fairly pleased with it and I look forward to new works from them.

“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.

“An Ode to Bukit Brown“

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 19 September 2015

A space struggling to be defined – a sanctuary for the dead but now it is land reclaimed for Singapore’s future. Perhaps, just like the eroding granite tombstones, Bukit Brown’s presence is slowly fading away. In time to come, I fear that people will proudly relate to the Botanic Gardens as a national heritage site and forget the quaint charm of a place that unjustly deserves less attention to be preserved.

This is Drama Box’s latest production, It Won’t Be Too Long: The Cemetery, unfolding in two parts (Dawn and Dusk performances). A self-reflexive piece examining our perennial contest for space in a tiny plot of land. What better way then, but to beat my fatigue and head down to Bukit Brown at 5.30 in the morning, to share this space with the spirits around and enjoy a site-specific performance that may never happen again?

We take a slow, 15 minutes’ walk from our gathering point to the performance site. All this while, there is just enough moonlight to light our path. As we continue walking, we are greeted by a barren land with still work cranes. This sight is oddly familiar and strange at the same time. Finally, we reach our destination, and a row of candles greet us, and we take our seats, waiting for a performance for us and for the spirits.

The actors move with great dexterity and fluidity (owing to the brilliance of movement director Koh Wan Ching), and their haunting moans brought goose bumps to the audience. Director Kok Heng Leun proves to us why this performance requires no text; the ensemble drags a piano into the space, playing a nocturne, an unexpected lorry (yes, and it almost seems like it is scripted) drives past the scene, interrupting the spirits, and them moving to the tunes of classic 60s Chinese songs. This experience is thoroughly enjoyable for me, especially since everything happens as dawn breaks, and the space gradually illuminates, signifying to the spirits that it is time for them to leave.

In the end, it is also time for us to leave. What remains of the fate of Bukit Brown?

Until next time, perhaps?

“Part Mystery, Part History, Fully Disclosed.“

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 6 September 2015, 3pm

Be warned, this review is filled with necessary spoilers.

Imagine being alone, a headphone over your head with the narrator’s voice, a faulty torch light in one hand that activates your paranoia. The twisting of the door knob with the other hand opens to a lesser-known tunnel-like storage space in the basement of The Substation.

Do not hesitate, just venture into the unknown. No cheap sudden screams, I promise.

Hearing Things: The Ghosts of The Substation is part of Septfest, The Substation’s annual anniversary celebration. As they turn 25 this year, this production investigates the past through its iconic building.

A spectre haunts. A little girl. This figure is mentioned umpteen times. She may leave traces of a tiny pair of slippers; she may be running on the catwalk platform above the blackbox; or luring the technician in the middle of the night by activating the burglar alarm. And all this while, it is as though she is waiting for the right person.

This place has so many traces of the past: one sealed door is said to be a tunnel leading to Fort Canning. In another instance, a director tells an actor to conduct a cleansing ritual by carrying a fruit basket around the theatre. Never have I been on a tour so trippy and surreal. You will definitely not regret going on this trip to explore the space. My only gripe is that this tour is a little tedious: the audience/participants must pay close attention to the speaker and the deliberate footstep sounds to judge when to move. Often, I find myself chasing after the narrative, ignoring the space and the atmosphere as a result.

Nevertheless, the next time you visit The Substation, suspend your disbelief. You may just come across something that makes you eerily aware of your presence and the presences of the unseen past.

“An Important History Lesson”

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 2 September 2015

How far can you believe what History tells you?

“Illusion is more powerful than reality,” declared American biographer Roxane Witke (Sangeetha Dorai) as she stands on the barren stage that is littered with torn Chinese propaganda newspaper.

This original collaboration between LASALLE students, New York-based Chinese playwright Zhao Binghao and Théâtre du Rêve Expérimental’s Beijing-based director Wang Chong is a masterful and critical examination on historical narratives. By subverting the dominant discourse entrenched in history, Revolutionary Model Plays 2.0 allows for alternative narratives to surface. Focusing on the Cultural Revolution, the play revisits the key events as it happens with a special spotlight on the untold story of Madam Mao/Jiang Qing (Kathy Han).

Of course, the play does not hold itself up as a “truthful” source of historical re-telling as seen in the seemingly endless debate between writer Yu Zhong Kai (Raphael Lecat) and Roxane Witke. Truth be told, I have my reservations about the play as I am aware of the multiple levels of experimentation. The audience is always made aware, through the use of Brechtian elements, that though the play attempts to deconstruct history, it is also a construction in and of itself. Multiple cameras are mounted and used by various characters to direct the audience’s attention for their respective agendas. The action is captured and fed onto a giant screen made of Chinese propaganda newspaper. This gesture underscores the central message that every narrative is inherently biased.

A clever, self-reflexive work – I left, having felt as if I had attended one of the most important lessons there is to know about History.

“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.

“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.

“Preach it”

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 25 April 2015

In the story of Adam and Eve, Eve was tricked by a serpent into eating the forbidden fruit to gain immortality. She entices Adam to do so as well. However, the fruit gave them something else; the knowledge to judge right from wrong.

But what if right and wrong is all … relative?

“Hawa” in Arabic has several meanings. It can mean the biblical figure Eve, wind, and sometimes desire. Hawa, the production, attempts to interpret life and death, and reconsiders faith and love. A recent Islam convert, Siti (Isabella Chiam), is given the responsibility by her partner Sarah to oversee her funeral. She hasn’t got a clue what to do. Enters an undertaker (Saiful Amri) who instructs Siti on the funeral processes. Siti is thrust into different situations; one of which is to gather enough people to pay their respects, a condition of the funeral. She is faced with a decision of whether or not to notify Sarah’s family of her funeral; and later she is compelled to do a water cleansing on Sarah’s corpse. To add to the series of misadventures, the play introduces Zaki (Al-Matin Yatim) who gatecrashes the funeral with an unseemly ambition to hook up with Hijabistas (or a fashionable Muslim woman). The result: an impossible funeral scene that questions the place of homosexuality (between Sarah and Siti) in Islam, through conversations that is thought-provoking and humorous.

Director Faizal Abdullah paces the play with great intricacy and sensitivity from start to end. The transition of scenes offers a room for meditation with its use of aphoristic motifs of tarot cards and Rumi’s words flashed across the veiled backdrop. Sound designer Suhaili Safari adds to the mix with a haunting voice-over of the text. In another instance, the use of a phone as a recurring communicative device in the play helps to bridge the storyline on-stage and off-stage, even though it is over-exploited. Zaki is the proverbial wild card. He challenges Siti’s view of Islam and becomes an instrumental force in the funeral proceedings.

Hawa carries with it the refrain of ‘sin is but a name’. This series of misadventures does not advocate doing away with tradition, but asks us to reconsider it. When the undertaker takes his time to demonstrate the ablution, that moment of wordless ritual is one of the instances that gave the audience space and time to reflect.

The only gripe I have for this production is a technical one. The surtitles presented the production’s major flaw. The syncing of surtitles and dialogue is often off. However, this can be overlooked as it hardly compromises the overall experience.

With a young team of theatre practitioners, Hatch Theatrics’ first show of the year impresses and sets the bar high for their future productions.

“Memorable Rendition”

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 25 April 2015, 3pm

In 1993, when the Saloma character in Off Centre remarked, “They laugh because we are mental patient, off centre,” it echoed across two decades, even finding its way into the O level examination syllabus. Haresh Sharma’s Off Centre has been restaged many times and it still serves as a reminder of the prejudice against people with mental illness.

Vinod (Ebi Shankara) sits on a chair, smiling and waving to the audience as they make their way to their seats. I smile back at him. When the play starts, Vinod remarks that only a handful (he mentions 12 out of 87) respond to his greetings and waving. And to the rest? He assumes that they do not respond because they know that he is mentally ill. This is a very important and intimate prologue to the play. I feel the production can push the prologue a little further to mark the moment.

The story then unfolds: Vinod meets Saloma (Siti K.) at a halfway house, both sufferers of mental illness. They fall in love, and find themselves trying to adapt to society and gain acceptance from their family. Most of the time, Vinod appears well-adjusted and he protects Saloma who suffers from schizophrenia. However, as the story progresses, Saloma slowly overcomes the voices in her head and Vinod starts to crumble. It is an emotional ride for the audience, seeing the star-crossed lovers struggle to make sense out of everything in their life.

Siti K. gives a wonderful portrayal of Saloma. Her Saloma speaks with a feeble voice; she cowers when she hears voices in her head; but above all, she is tenacious. The result is beautiful and poignant.

Although the stars of the show are Vinod and Saloma, the rest of the ensemble is no less important. They introduced an underlying parallel to the play; often putting on caricature masks and making offbeat movements across the stage in the foreground and background. This externalizes what goes on in the head of a mentally ill.

The lighting by Lim Woan Wen is commendable. At one point, Vinod’s back faces the audience and he is stark naked. A warm glow of light is cast on him, heightening the intensity of the moment. I find this moment performatively strong but makes Vinod’s end unnecessarily ambiguous. It is only at the end of the play where the audience learns of his fate.

This staging of Off Centre may fall short compared to its predecessors, but the impeccable performance of the actors certainly make up for any shortcomings – and I really cannot ask for more.

“A Raw Affection”

Reviewer: Gabriel Lim
Performance: 11 April 2015, 3pm

If you have seen Oliver Chong in Roots, you may agree with me that that monologues was quite amazing. Adrian Pang (as John) in Huzir Sulaiman’s The Weight of Silk on Skin is another example of how a well-executed monologue can enrapture an audience.

In Weight of Silk on Skin, John Au Yong, a middle-aged man from an upper middle-class family gets ready to attend a charity event. He finds out that his former sweetheart will be there. What ensues is a play which peels of its many layers (like the skin off an onion). The unpeeling reveals his past – happy and unhappy memories, and slowly exposing the fragile side of John as he remembers his life with the love of his life.

The set design was minimalist – a simple armchair and a clothing rack. But the simplicity stops there. Adrian Pang as John is brilliant. His John composed and exudes the confident. Amidst this composure stands a callous man who makes preposterous remarks on love and leather shoes; complete with the objectification of women. All the elements that went into playing this character are well-calibrated and well-executed. Pang’s performance also owes much to Director Tracie Pang who assembles a team that brings out a performance that rivals its predecessor.

As the play wraps up, no one knows for sure if John is willing to put himself out again and whether Anna will return. Perhaps as he pours himself another glass, as he hesitates to drink and leaves it on the table – he has already made up his mind, to let it slip away.