04 December 2014


by Zizi Azah
Teater Ekamatra
Drama Centre Black Box, Singapore

Teater Ekamatra, what were you thinking? Coming from the company that has given us incisive, thought-provoking productions such as Charged, Hantaran Buat Mangsa Lupa and last year’s rip-roaring Kakak Kau Punya Laki, this flimsy science fiction drama penned by Zizi Azah proves a huge disappointment.

Paradise throws us into the world of dystopian city, Kesamet, where a mysterious disaster has left a few individuals trapped and hemmed in by harsh deserts. The only means of survival is by consuming orgone, an energy-inducing substance that is produced bodily in factories. Dan (Crispian Chan), one of the orgone producers, desperately seeks to remember his past while not stepping on the toes of authoritarian matriarch, Sinan (Ang Hui Bin) who keeps everyone in check.

Much of the tension focuses on Dan rebelling against his painfully mundane environment where everyone has a precise role to play to ensure the optimal functioning of society. His only friend Telulah (an exuberant, polka-dotted Eugene Tan in his drag queen persona Becca D'Bus), by contrast, chooses to carry on his tasks without questioning the status quo. Rounding off the cast are Kat (Jean Toh), a factory supervisor and Dan's wife Mag (Maimunah "Munah" Bagharib), an apparent victim of the apocalypse who is revealed to us in flashbacks.

The set-up, of course, begins to smell awfully familiar when Sinan starts going on about increasing the productivity of orgone and building up reserves for a rainy day; if not, "hard truths" must be faced. Here we finally have it – a jab at Singapore's ruthless efficiency where all that glitters may not be gold. The plot may have better captured one's attention if the entire premise had not been so utterly derivative. Barely five minutes into the action, I couldn't help wondering if this was meant to be a localised, industrial-chic version of George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. Life is meaningless. Let's try to escape. Big Sister is watching you. While there are some clever allusions and witty wordplay, it's a pity that Zizi couldn't find a more original way to articulate her theme.

To add to the dissatisfaction, Paradise is marred by a series of haphazard, unconvincing performances. Ang lacks stage presence and intensity as the cold leader of Kesamet and looks like she is trying very hard not to stumble over her words. Effervescent YouTube personality Munah does a decent enough job as a rambunctious, dog-like pet of Sinan's (who is later revealed to be Mag) though her perennial growling rapidly begins to grate. And it remains unclear to me the exact purpose of Toh's character – she appears to be a callous yes man one moment, a timid, tearful wreck another.

Director Rizman Putra catches the odd moment of comedy in the play and infuses the whole affair with a generous dose of physical theatre. A scene of Dan and Mag doing a quirky robotic dance has the audience in stitches and Telulah's sassy, diva-esque presence lifts his scenes even if there is no further character development. However, one cannot shake off the feeling that this – together with needlessly futuristic touches such as translucent orbs and multiple TV screens flashing images to amplify the plot – is all mere padding over a weak, unfocused script.

This is by no means the first time we’ve seen a play that presents a grim, dystopian version of Singapore – both Jonathan Lim’s Pursuant and Ken Kwek’s Apocalyspe Live! explored variations of this theme to slightly better effect. Instead of a contrived rojak of popular science fiction themes that skirts this way and that without cohering into an organic whole, I was hoping for something with a little more bite. I’d really love to see an authentic science fiction play set in Singapore but I don’t think we’ve gotten there yet.

The Crystalwords score: 2/5

*This review was written for The Flying Inkpot. See original post here.

22 November 2014


by Girish Karnad
HuM Theatre
Kalaa Utsavam 2014
Esplanade Theatre Studio, Singapore

Helmed by the irrepressible husband-and-wife team of Daisy Irani and Subin Subaiah, HuM Theatre has delivered a stream of comic, Western-style plays over the past few years that have been given a distinct Indian Singaporean flavour. It is lovely to see them take pride of place in the Esplanade's annual Indian Festival of Arts, Kalaa Utsavam, with this specially commissioned production.

Nagamandala is a combination of two folk stories by playwright Girish Karnad. It tells the tale of sweet young bride, Rani (Sharda Harrison), who is sequestered at home by her brusque, philandering husband, Motabhai (Subin Subaiah). When a blind village auntie, Andhadiba (Daisy Irani), intervenes with some love potion to remedy the situation, it unwittingly gets fed to an amorous, shape-shifting king cobra living in the backyard, leading to a series of dramatic consequences.

In an overarching narrative, a man finds himself cursed by mysterious spirits and forced to listen to a story from beginning to end without falling asleep in order to be set free. The "story" (personified by Irani in a double role) of Motabhai, Rani and the snake is therefore enacted for the man.

The production celebrates the traditional Indian craft of storytelling and is proudly performed in traditional Rajasthani costumes – all sequinned vests and brightly coloured saris. Live musicians underscore the action on stage with the tabla, harmonium and carnatic flute, giving off the air of a village folk show where comedy, tragedy, song and dance merrily collide.

Scene-stealer Irani has the audience eating out of her hand in her turn as the kooky, melodramatic Andhadiba and Subaiah is likewise in fine form as the bald, bullying, moustachioed Motabhai. However, it is Harrison who truly steals the show as Rani. Harrison is perhaps best known for her frequent collaborations with The Necessary Stage in productions such as Crossings, Poor Thing and Gitanjali and her magnetic presence as a physical performer lifts the production, deftly charting the transformation of Rani from miserable young girl to confident, fearless woman.

Wong Chee Wai and Chen Silei's simple, uncluttered set, comprising just a large, gnarled tree (home to the snake) and a single door which represents the house of Motabhai and Rani, allows the acting to take centrestage, with the ensemble cast freely fluttering around to conjure up the scenes. There is also good work by lighting designer Lim Woan Wen, who creates suspense by concealing and revealing characters and uses colour to cleverly alter the mood.

Irani strikes a good balance between seriousness and levity in her direction and allows the production to be propelled by the physical performances while maintaining the dreamy, folk roots of the play. Yet, Nagamandala drags in its second half and one wishes that the pacing had been tightened. While there is generally good support by the ensemble cast, some of their antics feel forced and overly showy.

In just four short years, HuM Theatre has shown a steady commitment to break into different genres of theatre. In 2012, they catapulted their way into farce with an Indianized version of Moliere (The Kanjoos). Last year, they tackled social issues in a forum theatre piece about integration issues facing Indian expatriates (We Are Like This Only!) and, in this production, they have shown themselves capable of deftly performing classical Indian folk drama. I find it a bit of a pity that their productions tend to be frequented largely by members of the Indian community. This sort of work is exactly what makes the Singapore theatre scene so diverse and really deserves to be seen by people of all backgrounds.

The Crystalwords score: 3/5

*This review was written for The Flying Inkpot. See original post here.

21 November 2014

The Way We Go

by Joel Tan
Checkpoint Theatre
SOTA Studio Theatre

The first thing one sees in The Way We Go is a coffin. Silent, serene and spectral, it is a stark reminder of the theme of death and loss that underlies the play. It is also a quietly comforting image bathed in celestial light, a symbol of a cherished end and new beginnings. This is the coffin of Agatha Mao, former principal of the fictitious Convent of Our Lady of Lourdes.

Checkpoint Theatre’s latest production, written by Associate Artist Joel Tan, is a tender exploration of the complex ties of love and companionship that animate us at different stages of life. While remaining anchored in the solemnity of the present, the play takes us back and forth in time, delving into the lives of Agatha (Lydia Look), her best friend Violet (Neo Swee Lin), her life partner and Violet’s cousin Edmund (Patrick Teoh) and two younger women – teacher Lee-Ying (Julie Wee) and her free-spirited lover Gillian (Chng Xin Xuan).

Lydia Look does a fantastic job as Agatha, the prim, poised educator. Her measured, quasi-British intonation, regal posture and wry humour paint a picture of a woman in full control of herself but who has yet, in some ways, to learn some of life’s lessons. She makes an admirable transition as she exposes her emotional and physical vulnerability when she begins a relationship with Edmund and finds herself ravaged by cancer.

Look is complemented by crowd favourite Neo Swee Lin in a wonderfully earnest performance as Violet. It’s easy to forget how skilled Neo is an actress; she truly inhabits the character with all her heart and one can sense in her the apprehension of a woman getting married well past her prime and someone who genuinely wants the best for her ailing friend. Her scenes with Look are the beating heart of this play and convey a warm, mature relationship between adults dealing with problems that typically plague the young. In a delightful scene, Neo beams with joy at the sight of Edmund having prepared a meal for Agatha. “It is such a beautiful gesture” she gushes, her eyes twinkling with pleasure.

I found myself less taken by the parallel storyline of Lee-Ying and Gillian, former students of Agatha and Violet’s who tentatively begin a relationship back in school and whose lives grow strained as the pressures of adulthood intrude. Julie Wee gives off the best she can with the material but one gets the sense that her older character is largely a mouthpiece for the pressures facing the teaching profession and there isn’t much emotional development in the story arc. Chng also occasionally lacks conviction in her scenes with Wee and her dreamy petulance feels fairly one-sided.

As straight-talking Edmund, Patrick Teoh’s delivery feels decidedly artificial; more than the other cast members, one is aware that he is acting and taking pains to enunciate his words and deliver his lines. I’m not sure if this was just a case of him having yet to warm up to the character, but it did make Edmund a far less easy character to empathise with. It is also difficult to reconcile his tetchy behaviour for most of the play with his final display of emotion.

Joel Tan’s writing has matured since his debut play Family Outing and he has created here a rich portrait of the pleasures and pains of love. He shows the ability to skilfully handle nuance and write characters that feel authentic and proudly Singaporean – it’s hard not to be reminded of one’s own teachers when watching Agatha and Violet. Tan could however do with a little subtlety in his dialogue. Certain aphorisms about the nature of education and love seem to have spouted right out of a book of quotations and his use of humour is, at times, slightly laboured.

I have always admired the simplicity of the design in Checkpoint productions – the rows of chairs in Occupation and the series of suspended lamps in Atomic Jaya come to mind – and the beautiful symmetry of Tolis Papazoglou’s white set (which reminded me of a still from a Wes Anderson film) is a perfect counterpoint to this introspective, emotionally engaging performance. I was slightly less clear about the flooring, a patchwork of firm and bouncy squares that is visually distracting.

It is a credit to director Claire Wong that the play unfolds slowly like a delicate flower, allowing us to enjoy each vibrant layer while never allowing the emotions to overwhelm. Wong masterfully teases out the nuances of each word and gesture from her actors, making for a performance that is by turns hilarious and heartfelt. It makes perfect sense that the programme is designed to look like a school exercise book – as we emerge from the theatre, we inevitably feel that we have sat through a wonderful, nourishing lesson in life and love.

The Crystalwords score: 3/5

*This review was written for The Flying Inkpot. See original post here.

25 October 2014


by Bryony Lavery
Esplanade Theatre Studio, Singapore

This is no warm, fuzzy crowd-pleaser. Bryony Lavery's Frozen tackles the thorny subject of paedophilia and explores this through the voices of three distinct individuals. We first meet Agnetha (Janice Koh), a psychologist who studies serial killers and seeks to view them in a sympathetic light. Then there is Ralph (Adrian Pang), a seedy, mentally troubled man who abducts and murders little girls. Finally, we encounter Nancy (Karen Tan), the mother of a ten-year-old girl who goes on an errand one day and never returns.

The play is structured as a series of alternating monologues by these three characters. It spans over twenty years and charts their complicated journeys towards emotional and mental acceptance. It’s only towards the end that the characters begin to interact and their individual stories to intertwine.

While the premise is promising, the script feels both haphazard and incomplete. Apart from a few dramatic scenes where the characters lock horns, one cannot shake off the sense of watching a passive series of speeches that do not cohere into an organic whole. The character of Agnetha, in particular, is very poorly sketched. She is largely a mouthpiece for Lavery to propound academic theories about humanizing serial killers, and her individual story arc of dealing with a broken heart and betraying a friend by having an affair with her husband seems downright incongruous.

Tracie Pang handles the subject with characteristic flair, though certain aspects of her direction feel quite heavy-handed. I didn’t see the need to be told exactly what Agnetha was typing on her laptop on a projection screen or to be informed of the date and location of each and every scene. Part of the mystery of the play is its non-linear narrative and the realization on the part of the audience of the inexorable passage of time. We should be made to do some of the legwork and figure out the contours of the plot on our own.

If there is something that truly stands out in this production, it is Adrian Pang’s admirable performance as Ralph. Pang brings tremendous empathy to this coarse, detestable character, allowing us to understand his life of quiet alienation, where solace only comes from sweet young things that happen to wander his way. Pang turns in a gut-wrenching performance that is both powerful and quietly chilling; he never makes himself the centre of attention and allows every gesture and nuance of the character to speak for itself.

In the poignant scene where Nancy finally confronts Ralph in prison, we see the spectre of an utterly broken man who realizes, albeit too late, the depth of his transgressions. We are reminded, as Agnetha says, that the difference between a crime of evil and a crime of illness is the difference between a sin and a symptom, and Pang allows us to peek behind the façade of this man to see that he acts the way he does due to forces beyond his control.

Karen Tan inhabits the role of Nancy with hearty emotion and gives a moving reminder of the difficulty of a parent coming to terms with the death of a child and trying to move on with her life. Yet her performance is let down by her making almost no attempt to ground the character in the English setting of the play.

Janice Koh, likewise, struggles (not for the first time) with her American accent as Agnetha. The fact remains that not every actor can pull off an accent. There are ways to deal with this, such as localising the script or inventing a simple backstory and changing the details of the characters. Even if there had been some attempt to suggest that the characters were of Asian descent, it would have proved far less distracting. In a play that evokes such painful, raw emotions, an obviously Chinese woman who introduces herself as Agnetha Gotmundsdottir and casually mentions that her ancestors hail from a cold, ice-bound place just sounds odd.

Set designer Eucien Chia, whose impressive, symbolic designs have won numerous plaudits, proves disappointing this time round. The set has an unfinished feel to it, with a clear plastic screen hanging upstage that reminds one of a house in the midst of renovation. The scattered photographs that constitute the floor also complicate the visual style. The only genuinely interesting touch is the series of dress-like lamps suspended from the ceiling, a spectral reminder of all the little girls who have fallen prey to Ralph over the years.

PANGEDEMONIUM! has delivered a steady stream of hits over the years, so even if this latest production left me cold, one should not forget that there are precious few theatre companies in Singapore who would even dare to stage this type of play. And judging from the fact that Frozen was entirely sold out even before it opened, PANGEDEMONIUM! has firmly secured its fans throughout the island. Still, one hopes that it can continue to deliver work of a consistently high quality. I can’t help but feel the script choices for 2014 have been a couple of notches below those from last year - and sometimes it really is the most important decision one can make.

The Crystalwords score: 2.5/5

*This review was written for The Flying Inkpot. See original post here.

18 October 2014


by Oliver Chong
The Finger Players
Drama Centre Black Box, Singapore

Like the pot of rice steaming merrily in a corner of the stage, Oliver Chong's Roots envelops us with a warm, comforting aroma. This engaging monodrama, restaged as part of The Finger Players’ 15th anniversary celebrations, is written, directed and performed by Chong and was staged to critical acclaim in 2012, snagging awards for Best Script and Production of the Year at last year's Life! Theatre Awards.

Roots explores Chong's personal quest to learn about his ancestors in China. Armed with only the vaguest of clues and cryptic anecdotes from his grandmother, he takes advice from online forums before planning a journey to his ancestral village near Taishan in the province of Guangdong.

Chong has a unique gift for storytelling: he slips into a multitude of roles as he recounts his adventures to find his hometown, morphing effortlessly from an evasive, absent-minded grandmother to a kindly hotel clerk to a host of whispering village elders. Throughout the seventy-minute performance, Chong pads around in a large trough filled with rice grains sketching shapes and patterns, literally drawing and redrawing the lines of his history as he discovers secrets and stories that have remained hidden for years.

Moments of laugh-out-loud hilarity are balanced with quietly affecting scenes. In a particularly touching moment, Chong describes the simple joy of his father when the latter learns of a long-lost cousin in a small village, reminding us of the eternal power of the family to transcend physical boundaries.

The performance is delivered in a fluent mélange of Mandarin and Cantonese with a smattering of English although it is the use of English that I found to be the most jarring, seeming to be thrown in as an afterthought and making the flow of the surtitles less smooth.

Many of Singapore's iconic monodramas such as Stella Kon’s Emily of Emerald Hill, Huzir Sulaiman’s Occupation and Haresh Sharma’s Best Of are ultimately tales about finding oneself which are both deeply personal and wonderfully universal in their reach. Roots is no exception and it's impossible not to be swept along in the sparkling narrative. We all recognize traits of ourselves in Chong: the culturally dislocated modern Singaporean who wants to get a sense of his family history and understand the journey which led him to where he is today.

And the power of Roots is that it reminds us that sometimes it is that journey which makes all the difference, whatever the outcome may be. We all just want to find a place to call home.

The Crystalwords score: 3.5/5

*This review also appears as a First Impression on The Flying Inkpot. See here