No Man's Land

co-conceptualised and co-directed by Alvin Tan and Sim Yan Ying (YY)
by Danial Matin
The Necessary Stage
Esplanade Theatre Studio, Singapore 

Boys wear blue. Boys don’t cry. Boys like sports.

From the earliest days of our existence, we’re bombarded with conceptions of masculinity. We hear about it at home and school, from both loved ones and strangers. Many of these are subtle, quietly seeping into our consciousness and affecting the way we think and act. As a drama club kid in an all-boys school, I deliberately downplayed my interest in theatre because it did not seem cool. As a fragrance enthusiast exploring the world of niche perfumery, one of the first things I had to unlearn was the idea of perfume being gendered - something media certainly leads us to believe with its celebrity-driven ads. How do we dismantle these ideas and achieve a more nuanced understanding of what it means to be a man?


No Man’s Land, The Necessary Stage’s latest devised interdisciplinary production, written by Danial Matin and co-conceptualised and co-directed by Alvin Tan and Sim Yan Ying (YY), seeks to interrogate just that. Through a series of loose, inter-connected vignettes, we are introduced to four men of varying backgrounds and experiences. A newly-single man (Shahizman Sulaiman) shuts down emotionally when he discovers his girlfriend is pregnant and seeks solace in the gym. There, he meets a closeted gay man (Vishnucharan Naidu) who is trying to negotiate his sexuality and body image. Elsewhere, his childhood buddy (Neo Hai Bin), the admin of a popular Telegram group trading sexually explicit images of women, finds himself in a pickle when the tables are turned on him. The latter’s reserved father (Michael Tan) reminisces about early sexual experiences behind closed doors. Rounding off the cast is the dynamic Suhaili Safari in an assortment of female roles, acting as a foil to the various men. 

YY has developed a clear aesthetic as a director over the years and this is abundantly on display here. Much like in her earlier shows Who’s There, No Particular Order and Dive, this is a reflexive, hybrid work that seeks to confront thorny issues with compassion. It also forms a nice counterpoint to her production Pass:ages from last year, which focused on women and ageing, giving her the chance to interrogate the male experience. 

Photo Credit: Tuckys Photography, The Necessary Stage

The action is situated in what appears to be an oval boxing ring with the actors entering the arena in attire that resembles wrestling suits. They grunt, yell and thump their chests in a primal display of masculine energy before pulling on costumes for the various scenes. Clothes, here, are almost emblematic of the armour we wear as we perform our gender each day. The scenes are interspersed with sinuous movement sequences by choreographer Hafeez Hassan that blend the classic and contemporary, drawing from silatbharatanatyam and hip-hop. I’ve not always been a fan of YY’s penchant for dance interludes in the past but it works seamlessly here, allowing the characters to express themselves in a poetic and beautiful way while giving the narrative an arresting visual texture. Jing Ng's throbbing, disjunctive soundscapes add a powerful sonic edge, allowing us to embrace the discomfort alongside the performers. 

Being a devised work that involves close collaboration with the performers, some of the stories have a rich authenticity, from two queer siblings battling the weight of parental expectations to a man looking back on his life and wondering if he could have done things differently. However, the vignette-like structure does not give one the chance to truly sit with the characters. For a play where the glitz, grunting and gyration can be a little over the top, the quietest moments are sometimes the most powerful. A near-wordless scene between father and son over a dinner table - spanning disbelief, disgust, anger and compassion - emerges as one of the most moving of the evening.

Photo Credit: Tuckys Photography, The Necessary Stage

There are points where Danial Matin’s script could also be more subtle. A mid-show break, ostensibly framed as an interval, is designed for Shahizman to break the fourth wall and start mansplaining the preceding scenes to the audience so that we can "align" our narratives. It’s delivered with charm but feels too on-the-nose. Likewise, a scene towards the end where Suhaili breaks character and rails about being the token female actor in a play full of men falls flat. There’s an interesting point in how women – through their roles as wives, mothers and sisters – may unwittingly perpetuate a certain breed of toxic masculinity and even be part of the problem. One does not need to listen to the other characters apologising and reassuring her that her contributions are vital though. 

No Man's Land may not come any closer in helping us understand how we negotiate masculinity in the modern world. Yet, like the performers in the arena, it is important for us to wade into this strange and disconcerting space and confront our deep-seated prejudices. Acceptance is the first step towards change. 
 
The Crystalwords score: 3/5

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