《记忆是我们仅有的权力》

Reviewer: Neo Hai Bin | 梁海彬
Performance: 20 April 2017

上半场，我们见证的是Tropicana夜总会的繁华气象。意气风发的老板、来新加坡打拼的职员、受欢迎的摇滚乐手、半裸的舞女……

Tropicana夜总会关闭至今才不过30年，但似乎已经被历史遗忘。就连Tropicana经历的困境，例如黑帮势力的介入，都是我们这一代人只能想像，无法体会的。在那个追求个性解放的年代里，我们看到的并不是角色们糜烂的生活，该剧选择凸显人性的欲望：对梦想与理想的渴求、对向往的生活的愿景、对“美”的追求。

下半场，我们则见证了夜总会的困境，在政治气候的转变中渐渐走向关闭，凋零。我们见证角色们在大环境的趋势下各自做出不同的人生抉择。“美好”与现实应当如何妥协？该剧让我们参与了Tropicana的兴衰，观众无法不同情他们，无法不向往当年夜生活的多姿多彩。剧中强调当年的社会体制如何扼杀了本地可贵的音乐盛景，我们看着历史故事，不禁开始想像未来：容不下一点污泥的社会，怎么长得出生命力顽强的野草呢？

Tropicana从来没有出现在新加坡的官方历史论述里头，在本地的历史长河中，有多少Tropicana式的非官方历史慢慢消失遗忘了？我们的官方历史选择记得什么，选择遗忘什么？剧中的Pinky在编剧的手法下处理得颇为巧妙。Pinky是Tropicana里头最早觉醒的人物，当她开始为理想努力而奋斗时，忽然却在一场大火中逝世。之后，所有人物都不断强调，每当他们在现实面前感到失意、挫败时，他们总会想起Pinky—— Pinky已和Tropicana划上等号，成为了Tropicana的符号。在现实中，当年Tropicana的成员们仍然会聚集在一起叙旧。他们都没有忘记Tropicana。官方记忆和民间记忆为什么可以如此不同？国家如何动用记忆，来巩固自己的权力？同样的，被压迫的弱势群体在压迫者面前，会选择什么样的记忆，来维护自己最后的尊严？

是的，到了剧末，有人选择忘记，有人选择带着记忆离开，有的选择留下，并记得。Tropicana让我们在剧场空间里，得以一窥本地历史不为人知的一部分，实属可贵。记忆是我们仅有的权力。

“Tropicana the Musical”

Reviewer: Myle Yan Tay
Performance: 19 April 2017

Musicals are not known for their subtlety, and Tropicana is no exception. The dialogue is on the nose and in your face; its message – direct. The plot moves rapidly, with characters laying out their entire personalities in single lines. The costumes are ornate, with a giant pair of women’s legs in stockings and heels rises and falls as the setting changes.

Tropicana is extremely ambitious, tackling both a former Singapore landmark and our more tumultuous decades. It is this massive scope that underpins the musical missing the mark. By attempting to cover so much material, much of the nuance is lost as we zoom from scene to scene. When the extremes of characters make sense, like in comedic bits, or when the characters are toned back during more intimate scenes, the musical shines.  

But the script’s overbearing spoon-feeding remains a problem. It wants us to reflect on how Singapore’s past relates to our present and if we have changed. But it does not leave a mark on the audience’s minds because any food for thought has already been pre-digested by the writer, leaving the audience with little to ponder over.

The performers do put in a noteworthy effort, but the scale of the musical makes it difficult to connect with the audience. The dour end to one character’s journey lacks gravitas, as the audience’s is far too distracted to be invested. Some characters and relationships feel authentic and heartfelt, others formulaic or functional. Siti Khalijah and Joshua Lim’s budding romance and Ebi Shankara’s Muthu strike a chord because they are given room to breathe. Rizman Putra’s charismatic rebel rock-star, though played well, has little room to grow, making his sudden shift in the final scenes an odd punchline rather than a meaningful closure.

Joel Tan, Julian Wong, and Joel Nah do an excellent job creating the music, with the main theme, “Tropicana”, and “Live Your Life” being stand-out tracks. The ode to rock and roll, “I Swear on Ganja”, however, is an odd fit and consequently it sticks out from the rest of the musical.  

Putra’s character questions why Tropicana only imports foreign acts, and bars only allow him to play covers of international hits. His frustration rings true because this is a pervasive problem for Singapore’s entertainment industry. Yet, we hear Marvin Gaye, Frank Sinatra, and T-Rex, but never the like of The Quests or The Straydogs (both explicitly mentioned in the musical). What could have been an apt point on our audience’s penchant for internationally recognised art ends up feeling like empty posturing.

Tropicana fits into a specific canon of musical theatre, and if approached as such, can be a fun time. Some scenes are truly funny and others heartfelt. But the directness of the writing and the mismatched scale of its cast hold it back. If the audience is trusted to come to its own conclusions, the musical has the potential to be truly memorable and meaningful.