FLOWERS by Drama Box

“FLOWERS“

Reviewer: Jocelyn Chng
Performance: 2 May 2019

74 Jalan Kelabu Asap. This is the address given of the venue of the work. When I arrive, several staff and volunteers are in the front garden, and I am immediately greeted warmly. As it draws nearer to my appointed time slot, my two fellow participants and I are gathered for a quick briefing by the director, Han Xuemei. We are each given a small sling bag with a cassette recorder and earpiece, to be taken with us during our experience inside the house.

The first few moments after I enter the house feel disorienting. I feel like I am visiting someone, but I don’t know who. I see an old man sitting in front of the television, watching a Channel 8 drama. He doesn’t acknowledge us – these strange intruders to his house. At the same time, I can still see the staff outside through the living room windows. This simultaneous awareness of the two worlds makes me more confused for awhile, before I decide to switch off to the world outside and focus on the one I am now in.

The living and dining areas in the house depict an unmistakably traditional Chinese household. The furniture is carved teak; there are Chinese calligraphy couplets on the walls. An abundance of fake flowers almost spills out of the heavy-looking vases surrounding the television. It feels stifling, and the allusion to the work’s title is not lost on me.

I press the “play” button on the cassette player. A woman’s voice starts speaking, addressing a “you” that I deduce is her younger brother. It is difficult to concentrate on listening and exploring the house at the same time. Sometimes I have to stop and sit and just listen.

I learn that the brother and sister were close as children. But as I keep listening, I learn things about their family that get more and more troubling. I learn of the traditional gender stereotypes that characterised life in this household – boys should not cry, women belong in the kitchen. I learn that the children listened outside their parents’ door while fights happened. I learn that it all becomes too much, that once they finish school, sister and brother leave the house, one after the other. I learn that their mother eventually dies of cancer, estranged from her children.

While listening in on this woman’s story, I watch the old man potter around the house, going into empty rooms and fingering the belongings of his now-absent wife, son and daughter. An intense sense of loneliness permeates.

I feel like I am a strange mix of visitor-voyeur – there is intimacy, from being physically present in the house and listening to the woman’s voice, yet at the same time, distance caused by the fourth wall behind which the old man remains.

It finally starts to make sense to me, about 45 minutes to an hour into the experience. On first encountering it, this house looks so nondescript, so everyday, so “normal”. But if you look beyond the “normalcy”, you realise how much pain is in the air. I suppose this could be an analogy to real life – hidden beneath the mundaneness of everyday life, the pain caused by patriarchy is there, and it hurts all of us.

For some reason, when the doorbell sounds and I leave the house, I don’t feel compelled to hurry away. I end up sitting at the table in the garden, drinking tea and talking to the facilitators, who gently hold space for me and the other visitors. After emerging from the intense loneliness of the house, I realise that I am craving the chance to re-connect with people. This is perhaps the most valuable part of the experience for me.