“Pixel Chaos – Folklore in a digital world”

Reviewer: Kei Franklin
Performance: 16 January 2016

In a storm of sound and light, the artists of Zeugma blend flesh with digital, animal with human, and past with present.

For Kancil, the clever mouse deer, ‘intelligence is a curse’. Change is approaching fast for the animals of the forest, but only Kancil knows. Metal beasts just over the hill slay the soil and fell the forests. The other animals are oblivious as they merrily prepare for Kancil’s birthday feast.

The Chronicles of One and Zero: Kancil is a modern adaptation of the Malay fables of Sang Kancil, the puny mouse deer who uses her wit to win.

Featuring just one live performer, Gloria Tan, the performance relies heavily on multimedia such as body projection mapping and digital animation, as well as intricate sound design. Large screens surround Tan, and across them move giant chrome animals whose bodies slither and flex, and occasionally a stoic face with empty eyes and a cavernous mouth.

The prominence of the digital dimension provides a particularly poignant backdrop to Kancil’s environmental theme. Zeugma is targeting a new audience (us) in a digitalized world (ours). But the piece does raise a few questions: Does digitalizing a traditional folktale make it more relevant? Do we live so deeply in the digital realm that animation somehow feels more ‘real’ than live bodies on stage? Do we need eruptions of sound and flashing lights to feel the poignancy of a message or a piece of art?

Maybe not, but they certainly help. The complex audio-visual components of the performance make it real and dreamlike at the same time – part nightmare, part memory, and part 3D movie. I am never quite sure which aspects of the performance are literal and which are not.

Waves of Change skid across the screens in beads of light. Trees die and merciless lights look on. God – a passive voice, an observer – offers Kancil little solace as he excuses himself from intervening, explaining that Change is inevitable, ‘Nature’s Law.’

We look on and question our role in all of this – are we the metal beasts or the clueless crocodiles? – our agency up against the tromp of Change.

Kancil is flattened with the rest of the forest and I’m left wondering – game over?

“Casting shadows on what we take for granted”

Reviewer: Meera Nair
Performance: 15 January 2016

Hikayat Sang Kancil isn’t about a smart Kancil outwitting stupid animals. It’s a story of pain and loss, loneliness and power.

The Chronicles of One and Zero: Kancil leaves us with more questions than answers, as it brings the story of the Kancil into the real world. A world where history is written by the powerful (“Those with knowledge and resources determine the outcome, even if they lose”), showcased through the juxtaposition of destruction with the whitewashed tales we know of today.

See, in this version of the Kancil’s story, the Kancil bears the burden of knowledge. She is powerless and alone in knowing that deforestation is slowly encroaching upon the forest territory. She is painfully lonely: her exploits in the forest have left behind a trail of deception. Her actions then were morally ambiguous and have consequences now. The Buaya, Monyet, Gajah and other animals plan a birthday party for her despite all she has done, but she ventures off by herself instead, knowing she is smarter than all of them.The Siput still harbours a strong grudge against her.

The journey through this production is intense. An incongruous combination of traditional theatre and computer-generated graphics set to a backdrop of haunting electronic sounds. This odd mix creates a sense of displacement that is both uncomfortable and disturbing. The treatment of the Kancil’s story, which fluctuates between seriousness and flippancy, shocks and disrupts. Just imagine – your senses assaulted with flashing lights and loud sounds as a screaming Kancil discovers that everything is lost. And then, that story cheerfully recounted to the tune of Injit Injit Semut, set to visuals of an 8-bit video game.

The production feels to me like an experiment in forms. This is the first time Safuan Johari and Brandon Tay, who design the sound and visuals respectively, are doing theatre. The inexperience shows, as the visuals and sound don’t feel like theatre or theatre-appropriate. In fact, the light-hearted chatter between the animals in the beginning has me wondering how this can possibly work. But then, the rug gets pulled out from under my feet and the story takes a darker turn. At this point, I realise how effectively the combination immerses the audience in the storytelling.

Gloria Tan, the sole performer, pushes herself from role to role, seamlessly and energetically transitioning from Buaya to Monyet to Kancil. Helped by the visuals, she holds dialogues with the other animals. Her performance is commanding and emotional, and the stage feels full despite there being just one actor.

Watching children’s stories get transformed this way leaves me wondering: what do we actually know, and what do we not know? What are we taking at surface value? Who writes the stories we read, regardless of whether it’s children’s tales or newspaper articles? What is left out? The production definitely leaves an impression. Eavesdropping on the conversations around me as I exit the theatre, I realise that I am not the only person asking these questions.