Author: Isaac Tan

[Theatre Review] Little Shop of Horrors by Sing’Theatre: Bloomin’ Entertaining

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Photo: Poh Yu Khing / Sing’Theatre

Little Shop of Horrors
Sing’Theatre
14 April 2024
SOTA Drama Theatre
12–28 April 2024

If you think about it, Little Shop of Horrors is ludicrous. 

The plot is an over-the-top cautionary tale about the insatiable nature of ambition and greed personified (or “botanified”?) by an ever-hungry man-eating plant. The references in Howard Ashman’s lyrics and Alan Menken’s music are indulgent pastiches of their favourite aspects of 1950s and 1960s pop culture.

Seymour is a bumbling and innocent orphan who was taken in by Mr Musnik to work at his flower store. His interest in exotic plants leads him to acquire an odd plant which he names Audrey II, after his colleague whom he has a crush on. In a chance encounter, Seymour discovers that the plant seems to only thrive on human blood, and things go downhill as the plant grows along with its voracious appetite.

So why would one sit through two hours only to be given a superficial message of not feeding the plant? 

The energetic and delightful performances by the cast. 

Andrew Marko is endearing as the earnest Seymour who goes out of his way to do anything for the plant and Audrey. He proves to be quite versatile being able to sing, dance, puppeteer Audrey II (when it was small), and react to Audrey II wanting to bite others.

While the characters in this musical are largely sketches, Audrey is given more character development. She presents herself as a ditzy airhead due to a low self-esteem and trauma from abusive relationships, but deep down, she wants more out of life.

Vanessa Kee portrays the ditzy side of Audrey with high-pitched squeaks and tottering on high heels, but adjusts her vocals—due to the exigencies of singing—to deliver a wistful and heartfelt rendition of “Somewhere That’s Green”.  The contrast is too stark and it feels that Kee is playing two different characters rather than showing different facets of the same person. 

On top of his directing duties, TJ Taylor somehow manages to find time to understudy the role of Mr Mushnik and gives him more depth than just a grumpy old man. 

Photo: Poh Yu Khing / Sing’Theatre

AJ Alingalan (Crystal), Nurulhuda Hassan (Ronette), and Marissa Vojodi (Chiffon) rich vocal harmonies and sassy attitude as the street urchins are entertaining. And Honey Gluttony (aka Tony Tong) voicing Audrey II is great fun and unnerving at the same time.

Benjamin Koh plays Orin, Audrey’s sadistic dentist boyfriend, and a slew of characters offering Seymour lucrative deals in “The Meek Shall Inherit”. Koh plays all the characters to the hilt, lending the show grittiness and hilarity equally. 

To top it all off, given that the musicians (Elaine Chan, Jane Foo, Lee Lin Chow, Lee Fengheng) are hidden behind the set, and do not have a direct view of the performers, the spot-on coördination across the music, singing, and other cues is impressive.   

While the stage seems quite small for a musical, Wong Chee Wai’s set design cleverly makes use of every space available to bring Skid Row to life. The main set piece is the interior of Mr Mushnik’s store, but with just a screen coming down, we are immediately sent to the back of the store. Other neat tricks like the moving hands of the clock and a quick tap on the wall to change the store sign adds to the overall delight of the show. 

Just as Seymour got his strange plant after a “total eclipse of the sun”, I caught the show a few days after a solar eclipse by coïncidence. But what is not coïncidental is the thought, skill, and talent on display. 

While we all know the main warning of the show, Sing’Theatre has the wherewithal to water the plant just a little more. 

Other Reviews

Theatre review: Stellar vocals and comedic timing in Little Shop Of Horrors by Charmaine Lim, The Straits Times Life!

Sing’theatre’s Little Shop of Horrors delivers a gritty charm and stellar performances by Xiao Xing Wan, TimeOut

‘Little Shop of Horrors’ review: Audience will eat up every note of this musical by Sing’Theatre by Beverly Anne Devakishen, SG Magazine

Sing’theatre’s ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ is a Musical Feast by Derrick Lim, The Flying Inkpot

[Interview] Playwright-Composer weish and Director Huzir Sulaiman on Secondary: The Musical

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To open its 2024 season, Checkpoint Theatre returns to school with a musical composed and written by its associate artist, weish.

Described as an “unconventional musical”, I spoke to Playwright-Composer weish and Director Huzir Sulaiman to find out more about the production.

Synopsis
School isn’t easy for anyone, whether you’re a student or a teacher. And with exams coming, nobody’s life will be the same.

Pushed and pulled in different directions, Lilin is a young teacher trying to make it through yet another term while helping her students. Battle-worn Secondary 3s Ming, Omar, and Reyansh are trying to handle the challenges in school and at home with bravery and grace. But in a system that values specific kinds of success, can their efforts be recognised?

Hilarious and deeply moving, this landmark work by Checkpoint Theatre is an unforgettable dive into life in a Singapore school, with all its delicate joys, complicated heartbreak and unexpected beauty.

With a powerful, affecting script, and incredible new songs, Secondary: The Musical questions what happens when life is dictated by a final grade.

What inspired you to create Secondary: The Musical?

weish: The short answer is: Huzir Sulaiman. He came to me with the idea in late 2020, and since then he and the Checkpoint team have spent three years working with me to develop and refine the piece over several table reads and feedback sessions.

The piece draws heavily from my experience as a literature teacher in public schools. I learnt some difficult lessons about class and inequality, and the unseen struggles of less privileged students in the underbelly of our meritocratic ideals.

As my dramaturg, Huzir has always reminded me to balance light and dark, and in moments where I burrowed myself too far into my own head to see clearly, he encouraged me to put my cerebral and conceptual brain on hold in favour of listening to my instincts and emotions. In doing so I realised there was a lot of joy, hope, and humour in the world I was trying to represent.

In that light, I hope the work isn’t primarily received as an indictment of society, but more a celebration: of real people and their enduring humanity, in all their flaws and idiosyncrasies.

Checkpoint Theatre has worked with weish on several occasions. How did this project come about?

Huzir Sulaiman: weish’s engagement with Checkpoint Theatre has been deepening and growing over the last 12 years, from project to project, while her powers as a writer and musician have been similarly maturing into something quite astonishing, marrying lightness and joy with technical sophistication. I encouraged weish to write a full-length musical quite simply because she is a brilliant artist with a lot of important questions that she wants to investigate in her work, and she has the ability to do that in dialogue, lyrics and music. She combines those skills with both compassion and intellectual rigour—a vital combination when thinking about the education system!

You described the show as an unconventional musical. How would you describe the music in the show?

weish: In response to our trailer someone had joked, “Ah, the weish chord”! That really tickled me. But if it was any indication that there is something signature to my sound in the ears of others, I am glad. The show is a mix of spoken scenes—naturalistic and otherwise—and 15 original songs. I have had the pleasure of working with Ian Lee and Daniel Alex Chia from independent music label PK Records as my arrangers and producers, and they’ve breathed new life into the music in ways that balance my own sensibilities. The music is quite alternative and unconventional to the musical theatre style, but still accessible, and very lyric-driven. Genres range from folk to hip-hop to electronic, but what I hope ties them together is a rawness of emotion and sincerity. And, perhaps, a “weish chord”…

Photo: Daryl Eng / Courtesy of Checkpoint Theatre

What drew you to direct this show?

Huzir Sulaiman: It’s my privilege and responsibility to oversee the development of much of Checkpoint Theatre’s new work. Before formally becoming her director, I worked with weish for three years as the dramaturg for Secondary: The Musical, giving my feedback on her drafts—many fragmentary songs and scenes at first, then eventually 11 full drafts. I would discuss my thoughts and suggested revisions, also collating and curating the feedback that the Checkpoint team and actors would have after every read.

Music has always played a huge part in my life. Telling stories and expressing thoughts and feelings through not just spoken text but also song, the way it’s done in Secondary: The Musical, resonates with me as both an artist and on a deeply personal level. And weish and I have a fairly similar sense of humour, so I think that helps me enter into the world of the characters. I was fortunate that weish agreed for me to direct this work, and I consider it a great gift. weish is also musical director for the show, overseeing the singing and musical arrangements, and it’s great to see her at work.

While music elements have been featured in various Checkpoint Theatre’s productions, this is the first proper musical produced by the company. What were some of the difficulties in working on this original musical?

Huzir Sulaiman: Our first-ever musical was actually City Night Songs in 2012—in fact, that was the very production that kicked off weish’s and Checkpoint Theatre’s long happy years of collaboration. She was one of my assistant directors then. There are certainly new challenges when you work on a large production, in terms of integrating and balancing all the elements of performance—singing, choreography, acting, and all the processes involved in dramaturgy, design, rehearsal, and production.

Were there any interesting discoveries during the rehearsal process?

weish: The sheer amount of talent in the room has been overwhelming. Our cast is stellar, and I have been very moved by how invested they are in the work—from bringing their own ideas to the table, to sharing deeply personal anecdotes that resonate with the play, or sending me midnight voice messages with vocal experiments they are trying out at home. I have been moved to tears countless times through rehearsals—sometimes just witnessing the way in which Huzir teases out nuance and depth in each character, or watching Hafeez’s choreography imbue a song with new layers of meaning.

As for the music, it has been surreal. For more than 10 years I have written and performed my own music, and now I get to sit before a cast of 12, singing my words and melodies with so much conviction and emotion… I feel so lucky, and I’ve been very emotional through it all.

Huzir Sulaiman: Working with my 12 cast members (plus two understudies), I tried to pull out and make clear the themes and questions that the text poses. Improvisations and discussions allowed us to flesh out the backstories of the characters. Building a rich and detailed world was important to me, as well as ensuring the story unfolded with both clarity and nuance. I tend to work first in broad strokes, returning to scenes again and again to get ever more specific and layered.

Choreographer Hafeez Hassan and weish as musical director worked alongside me in the rehearsal room to optimise the movement and singing respectively. They are so good at what they do that it was a joy.

Has this show made you look at your schooling experience in a new light? How so?

weish: Not schooling exactly, but teaching, yes; I was forced to confront my flaws and failings as a teacher with new eyes, which has been difficult, but cathartic. The show has also reframed my feelings looking back on my time in the service—where before I had filed these memories as depressing or scary, I now remember all the things that were delightful, life-affirming. Avuncular maths teachers and their dad jokes; cleaning aunties who were deeply wise and kind; the hilarious and absurd things teenagers say; quiet poems and little letters and earnest journals that made me smile.

Huzir Sulaiman: Kindness is so important. Not only for students but also for teachers, who deserve compassion and understanding from pupils and colleagues equally. I wish I had realised these things when I was a kid. I had no idea what my teachers were going through—I found out years later that some were dealing with domestic violence, with divorce, with chronic illnesses. Adults seem so powerful, but I now know how fragile they are.

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Secondary: The Musical runs from 19 to 28 April 2024 at Victoria Theatre.

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[Interview] Director Aarne Neeme and ITI Students on the Upcoming Double Bill Showcase

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Courtesy of Intercultural Theatre Institute

The second production by the graduating cohort of the Intercultural Theatre Institute (ITI) features a double bill: “Fall” by James Saunders and “The Music Lovers” by Georges Feydeau, adapted by Reggie Oliver.

“Fall” explores the theme of loss within a family dealing with an impending tragedy while “The Music Lovers” is a lighthearted tale of mistaken identities.

To find out more about the double bill, I interviewed director Aarne Neeme and a few of the cast members of the show.

Why was the format of a double bill chosen and why “Fall” and “The Music Lovers” in particular?

Aarne Neeme (director): It is always a priority to offer graduating students equal opportunities to show their talents in their final presentation. Given the composition of the class (four women, one man), this presented a difficult choice, which was made easier by choosing two plays. Thus those with smaller roles in one, could be compensated in the other. The other benefit was the choice of two contrasting styles, to fully utilise and display their acting range.

Both plays in this production have distinct styles and demands. How did you ensure that the actors could effectively switch between the introspective nature of “Fall” and the physicality of “The Music Lovers”?

Aarne Neeme (director): The whole basis of actor training is to develop their acting resources and skills. At ITI, together with addressing traditional Eastern forms, they are taught the difference of approach working from the inside out, and the outside in; the external and internal modes of acting. This allows for a greater flexibility in finding the appropriate style demanded by the work.

Courtesy of Intercultural Theatre Institute

What are some of the challenges you encountered in portraying characters from two contrasting plays within the same production?

Cheng Kam Yiu (Yolanda): Playing two completely different characters in one production is quite challenging because both of them are of different ages and eras. Lucille is a French young lady in her early twenties from the late 1800s, while Mary is almost sixty in the 1980s. They have distinct physicalities and manners, so one has to transform completely in a split second.

The styles of the plays are also very different: “Fall” is a naturalistic tragedy whereas “The Music Lovers” is a farce in which the characters constantly address the audience and break the fourth wall. Actors have to know the requirements for each genre and adjust accordingly. But it always goes back to the intention and subtext of the plays, which is the most challenging to me.

As a non-native English speaker, the sense of text doesn’t come to me naturally. However, I’m grateful that Aarne is a very patient and helpful director. With his guidance and rich experience, I have a better understanding of the text. I still have a long way to go, but I’m truly thankful for having these two plays mark the end of my ITI journey.

Courtesy of Intercultural Theatre Institute

How do you think your training in the past three years has prepared you for the demands of this double bill? 

Choy Chee Yew and Abinaya Jothi: There was a great deal of learning and unlearning simultaneously. Not to be overly fixated on what we have trained in, but to trust our instincts, have fun, and use what we have learned to guide us back when we get carried away. We believe the previous final year production, The Chair, taught us that regardless of genre or style, theatre conveys the stories of human beings, and audiences should see that rather than ensembles of actors “demonstrating” their abilities.

What are some interesting insights you gained in the process of working on this production?

Aarne Neeme (director): This production celebrates the full breath of the theatrical experience both for the actors and their audiences. From the catharsis of Tragedy (evoking fear and compassion), to the comic release of Farce (dealing with obscenity, slapstick and mistaken identities). Thus showing off the full scope of both human and theatrical experience, that we inherited from the Classical Greeks and remains with us to this day.

Swathilakshmi Perumal (actor): “Fall” is a realistic play. We were required to sit down and deliver our lines throughout. Since most of our training is psycho-physical, it is challenging. It leans towards the film logic of experimenting with props. It is interesting to experience this type of performance on stage.

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[Theatre Review] The Chair by ITI: Not at the Edge of One’s Seat

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A woman demands justice from the mayor as her husband holds her back / Photo: Bernie Ng

The Chair
Intercultural Theatre Institute
1 September 2023
Drama Centre Black Box 
31 August–2 September 2023

An original piece by the graduating cohort of the Intercultural Theatre Institute, The Chair revolves around a seemingly nondescript town that is rocked to its core when James, scholarship recipient and pride of the town, kills a few children. 

According to the law of the town, the execution must be carried out by the family of the victims. 

A woman (Swathilakshmi Perumal) keen on revenge pressures her husband (Choy Chee Yew) to take on a role because he is a butcher. But despite him being adept at slaughtering chickens, he feels uneasy about taking a human life.

The mayor (Mika Oskarson Kindstrand) quickly absolves herself of the responsibility by claiming it is merely a duty for her, but it is healing and an act of justice for the others, including the wider public. 

A recluse elderly woman [Cheng Kam Yiu (Yolanda)] has the unenviable position of grieving over the loss of her grandchild, while being the town’s appointed counsellor to the chosen executioner. Things take a strange turn when the butcher and her are chosen as the executioners.

James’s mother (Abinaya Jothi) struggles to make amends with the rest who have always shunned her as she works as a cleaner. 

Throughout the course of the show, questions about the nature of justice are raised as the characters grapple with grief, anger, and guilt. 

Tensions run high between the mayor and James’s mother / Photo: Bernie Ng

Unfortunately, this proved to be a tall order for the actors. We get enough from them to understand the plot, but not enough to sense that the characters are actually grappling with and trying to keep these emotions under control. 

Given that this is an original work, it is puzzling as to why the young actors are given such overly demanding roles. 

However, we are compensated with a good synergy in their movement work. 

In one scene, the characters are frantically trying to search for the children in the river, depicted by just a black patch on the floor. As they tumble over each other, the characters take turns to raise up the children’s belongings. How the actors manage to hide and retrieve the props is a wonder to this reviewer. 

The strong synchronicity between the actors’ movements and the sound (designed by Meng Jiaoyang) and lighting effects (designed by Faith Liu Yong Huay) also contribute to the simmering tensions which leads to a couple of climatic moments, signalled by perhaps an overuse of strobe lights.  

The butcher mulls on the grave task ahead / Photo: Bernie Ng

Kudos to director Li Xie for pulling together the seemingly disparate elements of a sparse set (black patches on white floor); striking props by Puny Life Form (think a striking red telephone with cord that doubles as a noose while hanging on sharp hooks); and guiding the actors through the devising process to create a coherent world. 

Despite the dungeon-like atmosphere, the consistency of the visual, audio, and performance languages allow us to buy into the idea of the characters being in an odd little town. 

While I was not on the edge of my seat, The Chair still intrigues as one considers the nature of justice and how it should be meted out. 

Other Reviews

“Review: ‘The Chair’ by Intercultural Theatre Institute explores the death penalty, justice and grief in a twisted small town” by Yaiza Canapoli, SG Magazine

Review: The Chair by ITI 2023 Graduating Cohort by Philippe Pang

★★★☆☆ Review: The Chair by Intercultural Theatre Institute by Bakchormeeboy

Further Reading

[Interview] Pulling Up a Chair with Li Xie and ITI Students

Digital Programme of The Chair

[Interview] Pulling Up a Chair with Li Xie and ITI Students

/ Isaac Tan / 1 Comment

Courtesy of Intercultural Theatre Institute

The Chair marks the debut of the 2023 graduating cohort of the Intercultural Theatre Institute (ITI). An original work directed by Li Xie, The Chair raises questions on individual and collective responsibility, grief, and the desperate, at times absurd pursuit of justice in an unjust world. Who has the right to decide? When is justice served? What do we owe to each other in the balancing of scales? 

I interviewed Li Xie and a few members of the cast to find out more about the show.

What is the devising process like? Was the theme of justice decided beforehand or did it evolve out of the devising process?

Cheng Kam Yiu (Yolanda): It is a collaboration between the director and actors. We first shared our views and interpretations of the script then put the imagination on the floor. From a common understanding of the content, we devised the score using different elements such as movement, sound, space, and object. The score became more detailed and refined throughout the process. There are multiple themes in the script while the actors are exploring their own characters’ journeys of dealing with grief and loss under an extreme circumstance.

As the students have learnt many performance forms and training systems, did you tap into their varied training as you direct the piece?

Li Xie: Yes, the most important aspect is how to bridge their varied training beyond its forms, to discover how all various roads lead to similar core essence in performance.

Meyerhold’s Biomechanics features quite strongly in the rehearsal process. Were there any interesting discoveries you had about the actor training system as you and your cohort worked on The Chair?

Choy Chee Yew: We trained intermittently in Biomechanics over the past three years and the production was an opportunity to put the training into practice. The principles of Biomechanics are actually applicable in all aspects of theatre-making, but as our training wasn’t continuous, it was noticeable that the principles were not as ingrained in some of our bodies as they should.

The rehearsal process made it clear that certain misconceptions of Biomechanics needed to be debunked. As a training system, it adopts certain stylised approaches to impart its principles, especially the etudes. However, this doesn’t mean that an actor trained in Biomechanics has to perform in a stylised manner like an etude. Even in a realistic play, the principles of biomechanics are still as relevant; precision, rhythm, clarity, efficiency, and the conscious use of the whole body in expressing intention.

During the devising process, there were many uncertainties, such as the understanding of the characters’ intentions and how to best use a very bare stage. At times, this resulted in a lack of clarity in what we were trying to express. We were constantly reminded to return to our truthful instincts to approach the character, and then to use the training principles we’ve learnt to deliver in the clearest and most efficient way.

What would an ideally just world look like?

Li Xie: This is a very difficult question which has no clear answers. Everyone’s ideal is different. It’s probably a world one never regrets coming into.

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[Theatre Review] The Tug and Tussle of Relationships in Tender Submission by Checkpoint Theatre

/ Isaac Tan / 1 Comment

Photo: Joseph Nair / Courtesy of Checkpoint Theatre

Tender Submission
Checkpoint Theatre
20 August 2023
Drama Centre Black Box 
17–27 August 2023

In the second production of Checkpoint Theatre’s 2023 season, we are invited, once again, to witness a drama unfolding in real time as the action takes place in one room without intermission.

Unlike Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes, which takes us on explosive highs and lows, Lucas Ho’s Tender Submission—as the title suggests—is dramatically meek. But the unearthing of human frailties and desires in the context of faith and marriage is no less affecting. 

To escape the heat of the church’s annual general meeting, Catherine and David find themselves in the cry room, where parents can attend to their crying children without missing or disrupting the church service. 

A key agenda of the meeting is a vote on whether the church should support a tender submission by Transformation Welfare Services, a community service group within the church in which Catherine (Neo Swee Lin) is actively involved. 

She believes that building a community services centre would allow the church to care for the masses. Apart from seeing this as what a church should do, as opposed to the status quo; having a self-satisfied, well-heeled congregation. She also finds fulfilment as her involvement affords her a sense of agency—something she has lost in the midst of being a mother and a wife. 

Failure to understand and articulate one’s needs / Photo: Joseph Nair / Courtesy of Checkpoint Theatre

David (Lim Kay Siu) fails to understand her underlying desire. He sees the tender submission as a rushed undertaking, and an inefficient measure of outreach, as it does not necessarily mean more conversions to the faith.  

The failure to understand on David’s part, and that of articulating one’s needs on Catherine’s part, send the couple on a tail-spin as all the unresolved conflicts and unmet needs in their thirty-year marriage come to the fore. 

Set against the matrices of church politics and differing interpretations of faith, every tug and tussle in the dynamics of a relationship can be seen. 

Being married for almost as long as their characters, Neo Swee Lin and Lim Kay Siu bring out the nuance of every parley, push, and pull with much aplomb. 

Lim’s David often sulks with folded hands or quickly dismisses his wife, but is stunned with his mouth agape when Catherine reveals the intensity of her hurt or frustration. 

Neo’s Catherine tries to keep a lid on her internal frustration and couches her bids for connection in questions that annoy David. While she tries to maintain a calm exterior,  she delivers the most brutal lines when the centre cannot hold. 

Neo Swee Lin and Lim Kay Siu play out every push and pull of a relationship / Photo: Joseph Nair

Directors Huzir Sulaiman and Chen Ying Xuan keep the ninety-minute text-heavy performance taut with tight pacing and ensuring the actors made full use of space. Additionally, the choice of when the characters clear up the toys or the mess in the room are inspired choices as it provides a symbolic weight to what is going on in the scene. 

The highlight of Petrina Dawn Tan’s set is the three empty frames along the fourth wall, which suggest the big windows that those in the cry room could look out into the congregation during the service.

At first glance, it emphasises a goldfish bowl effect as it reminds us that we are looking into the scene, which is too on the nose. However, on further thought, it also affords some potential for blocking as characters could look out into the empty hall (often called sanctuary in Christian parlance), and face the audience head-on while being physically framed. 

Moreover, the frames also designate the space where the audience is as the church congregation in the world of the play. But as the theatre audience, we are a kind of congregation as we bear witness to what is going on. 

Towards the end of the play, Catherine and David try to find ways to tenderly submit to each other, but the messiness of relationships mean that their long-standing problems and insecurities will not go away. 

Far from merely subjecting us to witness a couple’s quarrel, Tender Submission reminds us of our own frailties and foolishness in how we relate to people that we love. 

Other Reviews

“Theatre review: Stellar acting in Tender Submission, but it preaches to the choir” by Shawn Hoo, The Straits Times Life

“Review: ‘Tender Submission’ delves deep into the heart of faith and marriage” by Yaiza Canopoli, SG Magazine

“Review: Azura Farid on Tender Submission by Lucas Ho (Checkpoint Theatre)” by Azura Farid, Critics Circle Blog

“‘Tender Submission’ by Checkpoint Theatre” by Corrie Tan, the intimate critic

“Tender Submission“ by Naeem Kapadia, CrystalWords

“Theatre Review: Tender Submission, An Original Singaporean Story That Probes Deeply Into Relationship And Religion” by Xushuang Chen, Weekender

“In Praise of Growing Through Checkpoint Theatre’s Tender Submission: A Review” by Charmaine Tan, Men’s Folio

“Review: Tender Submission by Checkpoint Theatre” by Bakchormeeboy

Further Reading

[Interview] Lucas Ho talks about his latest play, Tender Submission

[Interview] Steven Ang on Julius Caesar in Egypt by The Mad Scene

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Francis Wong (Hong Kong) as Ptolemy watches Steven Ang (Singapore) as Julius Caesar and Tatiana Konovalova (Russia) as Cleopatra

Having successfully staged Verdi’s Macbeth last year, The Mad Scene returns in September with Handel’s Julius Caesar in Egypt, directed by Hawk Liu. I spoke to producer and singer Steven Ang to find out about The Mad Scene’s sophomore production.

What is it about Julius Caesar in Egypt that led you to produce and perform in it?

After Macbeth, Hawk Liu and I were discussing what our next project could be. We both have a love for grand historical epics told in music, so this opera is a natural fit. This production covers Caesar’s campaign in Egypt amidst civil wars in both Rome and Egypt, and encapsulates the story in quite a stunning way, full of heroism and romance.

The music captures the emotional journeys of its six characters so well, in addition to being fiendishly virtuosic and laden with catchy ear-worms.

Ashley Chua (Singapore) as Sextus

What are some of the unique challenges in playing Caesar?

One of the biggest challenges of this production is adapting an 18th century piece for the contemporary stage. Shows back then would typically last up to five hours, with audience members entering and leaving the theatre at different times. Plot expositions were also more stylised and less propulsive by today’s standards. Hawk and I have adapted the plot and music in ways that give more dramatic impetus to the plot, while allowing the many favourite tunes that lovers of the opera know and love to be more dramatically engaging as well.

Another challenge is that, anatomically, the music is composed for a ‘castrato’ singer, a male singer who has had parts of his genitalia surgically removed to preserve the purity of a boy’s tone with the strength of a grown man. Suffice to say that, while I love the piece and role deeply as artist, I am really not willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for it!

Hence, the music has to be adapted for my deeper bass-baritone voice, which is common practice in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Low voices are rarely associated with florid music with fast running passages, so this adaptation is a great showcase for bass baritones!

Hugo Van Beever (Belgium) as Achillas

Were there any interesting discoveries in the process of rehearsing for the show?

It has often been said that it takes a village to put on a theatrical production. This production is a true global village, with four of our six main cast members from Japan, Belgium, Russia and Hong Kong, working together with Singaporean talents in the cast and creative team. Everyone has stepped up to help make this a truly wonderful experience.

We have learnt a lot of lessons from Macbeth last year and are applying them this time round. Francis Wong from Hong Kong has been instrumental in styling many of the looks that you see in the promos and onstage. Hawk’s artistic vision is astute and detail-oriented as always, and we are now able to incorporate better lighting, sets and backdrops to the mix. It’s been an interesting intellectual melting pot combining ancient history with period and contemporary performance practices. We hope to present a work that is faithful to its sources and enjoyable by modern theatre-goers.

One of the best things about this production is including the up-and-coming soprano Ashley Chua to play the boy role of Sesto. She is a truly fine singer of this repertoire on top of being a committed and accommodating actor at the same time. She sings a duet with Japanese-British mezzo Chieko Trevatt that will break your hearts and give you goosebumps all at the same time. I can’t wait for the audience to hear them perform it!

Chieko Trevatt (Japan/UK) as Cornelia

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[Interview] Lucas Ho talks about his latest play, Tender Submission

/ Isaac Tan / 1 Comment

For the second production of their 2023 season, Checkpoint Theatre will stage Tender Submission by Lucas Ho. I caught up with him to find out more about his brand new play that cuts across faith, marriage, and commitment.

Synopsis
In the quiet of their church’s cry room, Catherine and David anxiously await the results of an important vote. As the crucial decision hangs in the balance, the life they have built together over the last 30 years comes under sharp scrutiny, and they are compelled to confront the very basis of their relationship.

Tender Submission bears witness to the unspooling of a decades-long marriage. When faith and purpose diverge, what truly lies at the heart of a relationship? Can a new path be found together?

Under Huzir Sulaiman and Chen Yingxuan’s taut, vivid direction, veteran actors and real-life couple Neo Swee Lin and Lim Kay Siu bring honesty and nuance to these complex characters as they navigate unspoken doubts, fears, and desires.

With precision and deep compassion, Lucas Ho’s new play grapples with the tensions between the institutional and the individual, and asks what it really means to commit to something greater than yourself.

What inspired you to write Tender Submission?

Thematically, I wanted to explore how religious beliefs are situated within the Singapore context—do they intermingle, improve, impinge, or impoverish; or all at once? In my case, Christianity is the religion I’m most familiar with. How do those who are religious attempt to balance the need to proselytise with the reality of being part of a society that appears secular at its very foundation? What are the means by which some will attempt  to exert influence, and do the ends justify those means?

It also started as a technical challenge for myself, reducing theatre to its absolute minimum: two people in a room, no scene cuts, no flashbacks, no additional characters to shift the dramatic vector. How much storytelling could happen? How far could I take it? And would it be compelling theatrically? I found that these restrictions forced me to dig deeper into the inner lives of the characters, and really compelled me to be deft and delicate about how to create a sense of forward momentum for the plotting. I hope it works!

One theme the play explores is how far one would go to act on one’s convictions. What made you decide to explore that theme in the context of a couple, and their Christian faith?

Centering it upon a couple was my way of finding a narrative conduit through which it became viable to tell a story about religion, in dramatic form.

And, as I was writing the play, I also found myself curious about an older couple from an anthropological perspective. I had grown up in church around these accomplished, well-spoken, and well put together married couples. They always seemed to know what they were doing and always had a ready answer to any question, religious or not. I began to imagine how they came to be, and wondered who they were when they were alone with each other.

In the press release, you mentioned that you wrote this play as an ‘invocation’. Could you elaborate more on that? What do you hope to invoke through the audience’s experience of the play?

It’s often been said that what keeps human individuals motivated and hopeful and alive is for them to be aligned with and committed to something other than, or larger than, themselves. It could be a social endeavour, or a communal engagement, or a religious activity.

An invocation in this regard is thus on one level an appeal to that core need within us. And, on another level, it’s also an appeal to the authority that said core need has over us.

One more sense of the word ‘invocation’ that’s very much on my mind, is “a cry for help”.

How has the process of writing this play informed you of your own personal struggles?

I’ve recently realised that one common fixture in all my plays is a character who is a middle-aged Chinese man. Maybe I’m trying to examine why the middle-aged Singaporean Chinese man looks and talks and thinks in a particular way; maybe I’m trying to figure out if that’s my future self, and if so, how to do better.

Catch It!

Tender Submission runs from 17 to 27 August 2023 at Drama Centre Black Box.

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[Theatre Review] ‘Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes’ by Checkpoint Theatre: The Joke’s on All of Us

/ Isaac Tan / 3 Comments

Photo: Joseph Nair / Courtesy of Checkpoint Theatre

Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes
Checkpoint Theatre
24 March 2023
Drama Centre Black Box 
23 March–2 April 2023

A musician, an activist, an academic, and a therapist walk into a politician’s house on the eve of an election. The showdown that ensues is unexpected as the characters, save for the politician, thought this was just a group of friends catching up for old time’s sake.

There may be a sense of camaraderie in the shorthand that one develops with friends, but without examining the intention and context that underlie them, the in-jokes, nicknames, and quips soon become barbs. 

As Tesh, an aspiring member of parliament, enlists the help of his friends due to a looming political scandal, friendships are pushed to the limits, and intentions are questioned, as old or unresolved conflicts emerge. Barbs and hands fly quick and fast. 

It is in this messy slugfest that playwright Myle Yan Tay interrogates race, politics, class, and censorship. Issues such as minority representation in media and politics; what constitutes the brown community; and whether cancel culture is going too far—among other topics—are unleashed on us in unrelenting waves.  

The topics covered might make the production seem like an argumentative essay in costume, but it is far from that. The topics are raised organically, depending on what the characters clashed about, and we are not brow-beaten into any position. 

But where we really see the playwright’s skill is that as we lean towards all the characters being complex and irreducible to a set of identity markers, we are yanked back to the reality that there are some issues affecting all of them simply on the basis of their skin colour. One is unsure of one’s stand, but as a Chinese man, I find myself keenly absorbing every nuance and complexion presented.

Not turning a provocative play into something overly didactic or having a woe-is-me protagonist, while offering several insights to mull on is difficult for any playwright, let alone for one debuting his first full-length play. 

L-R: Dev (Krish Natarajan), Adam (Shahid Nasheer), Tesh (Gosteloa Spancer), Scott (Ebi Shankara), Fizzy (Adib Kosnan)
Photo: Joseph Nair / Courtesy of Checkpoint Theatre

As most of the stage time mirrors real time, and all the action occurs in Tesh’s living room, it is easy for the show to be derailed into an endless shouting match. The sophistication in Huzir Sulaiman’s direction coupled with the sheer commitment from the wonderful cast mean that every moment is filled with pregnant intensity. 

Our attention is drawn to different parts of the room when the fissures occur. But if one were to cast an eye on the other characters observing the situation, you can feel the simmering tension, as you wonder what would happen next. 

Gosteloa Spancer’s portrayal of Tesh may be slightly tentative initially. But by the time he delivers the key monologue, he has the audience latching on to every word. 

Ebi Shankara’s Scott, a therapist who moved to the US, may be the most easy-going of the lot, as he bears the brunt of jokes about him escaping Singapore or adopting Americanisms. However, domestic troubles gradually bubble to the surface. Witnessing how Shankara allows his character to stew in his problems until the inevitable revelation is a delight. 

Krish Natarajan plays Dev, a musician who provided most of the comic relief due to his cheeky demeanour. But one should look out for the handling of Dev’s character arc as he becomes more circumspect when Tesh’s predicament compels him to reflect on his past.

Watching Adib Kosnan play Fizzy—an ardent activist seeking to effect change via social media—is a refreshing change to his mild-mannered character in a previous collaboration with Checkpoint Theatre, Keluarga Besar En. Karim. This is also a testament to his versatility as an actor.

Adam, a jaded academic caught in an unjustified social media maelstrom caused by Fizzy, is understandably sceptical and guarded. Shahid Nasheer’s keen sense of timing allows Adam to play devil’s advocate as he curtly interrogates everyone’s intentions.

The other cast members—Isabella Chiam (Marina, Tesh’s wife); Lareina Tham (Caroline, Tesh’s assistant); Vishnucharan Naidu (Ravi, Tesh’s intern);  Hang Qian Chou and Chaney Chia (cameramen)—serve to emphasise how politics is heavily reliant on optics.

The Singapore theatre canon is no stranger to tackling race issues. Only time will tell if Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes will be added to it.

However, with so much to think about, the joke’s on all of us if we don’t move the conversation forward on race issues, and figure out ways to coëxist better. 

Other Reviews

“Theatre review: Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes offers detailed characterisation and serious themes” by Ong Sor Fern, The Straits Times Life! (Review is behind a paywall. Read a partial transcript here)

“Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes“ by Naeem Kapadia, Crystalwords

“Review: Dia Hakim on Brown Boys Don’t Tell Jokes by Myle Yan Tay (Checkpoint Theatre)” by Dia Hakim, Critics Circle Blog

[Theatre Review] ‘The Puppets are Alright’ by The Finger Players: Puppets Revealing Humanity’s Frailties

/ Isaac Tan / 2 Comments

Doreen Toh in ‘My Father The AI Machine’ / Photo: Benson Lim / Courtesy of The Finger Players

The Puppets are Alright
The Finger Players
26 February 2023
Drama Centre Black Box 
22–26 February 2023

In my email interview with the creatives of The Puppets are Alright, the common theme of working towards a piece in which the puppet is crucial to the story-telling came up consistently. 

The puppets used in the triple-bill are created by Sim Xin Feng, Loo An Ni, and Marilyn Ang during their respective year-long residencies at The Maker’s Lab. 

When the audience enters the black box, they will see Sim Xin Feng’s puppet seated at the dining table, facing them directly. It is the size of a large doll, its head resembling a bald, bespectacled, middle-aged man. 

With its big eyes and indecipherable mouth, it has an enigmatic presence throughout My Father The AI Machine. In the piece, it is a machine which supposedly contains the brainwaves and memories of a deceased man, an innovation by the government-backed Revive the Dead Programme.

The man’s wife (Doreen Toh) treats it like her actual husband, and takes on multiple jobs, hoping to eventually afford the upgrades to make this machine more human-like. This leaves the son (Neo Hai Bin) contending with treating the machine like his father, and not having a proper relationship with his mother.

Neo Hai Bin plays the son who is unwilling to treat the machine as his father
Photo: Benson Lim / Courtesy of The Finger Players

With its movable eyes, controlled by a joystick, and a button at the mouth to print ten words at a time on a ticker tape, dispensed through its chest, the puppet is not completely inanimate, but hardly human. 

The liminality of the puppet is the crux of this poignant human drama in which one is clinging on to what is lost at the unknowing expense of slowly losing what one has.

Playwright Chong Tze Chien keeps the plot and world-building of a near future simple, which allows us to focus on the human drama. Unfortunately, Liew Jia Yi’s direction and the performance by the actors is just short of realising the drama to its fullest potential. 

For a woman who desperately wants to keep her husband alive, and treats the machine as her husband, Doreen Toh is slightly tentative in handling the puppet as they slow dance to the couple’s favourite song. Even when the son threatens to destroy the machine, her desperate pleas do not feel like her son has just threatened to kill his father with a long knife in hand. 

At the end of the play, when the son makes an irrational decision that contradicts his previous beliefs, Neo Hai Bin portrays the son to make that decision a little too easily. 

That said, the play is engaging and touches on a very human struggle. 

Alvin Chiam plays a man who is haunted by the spectre of his wife / Photo: Benson Lim / Courtesy of The Finger Players

As a counterpoint to the opening piece, Loo An Ni’s puppet in Parting only appears in the middle of the piece. Instead of using the original puppets she created for her residency, she created a new one based on insights gained from her research into modularity. 

While I am slightly disappointed as she is modest in her ambitions with the life-sized female mannequin with detachable limbs,—as opposed to her original interests in exoskeletons and modularity—the puppet serves as the spectre that confronts us with our sins. 

In this non-verbal piece conceived and directed by Oliver Chong, a man (Alvin Chiam) writes a parting letter to his wife and removes his wedding ring. Three creatures (Angelina Chandra, Jo Kwek, Rachel Nip) dressed in black appear and they seem to represent the man’s personal demons. As they scamper and scramble about the room to frolic and cause mischief, the man gets increasingly affected.

The timing between the creatures shifting the body parts of the puppet, and the man wondering they are constantly being misplaced, is incredibly taut. This brings out a sense of dark humour. We get the horror trope of things moving about and seeing the dark forces causing mischief, while also getting the comedic element of child-like creatures playing pranks.

The creatures (Angelina Chandra, Jo Kwek, Rachel Nip) seem to represent the man’s personal demons
Photo: Benson Lim / Courtesy of The Finger Players

Chiam’s slightly understated approach is a nice touch as this contrasts with the creatures suggests how he is trying to control what is going on internally as manifested by the creatures on stage.

The creatures also double as puppeteers. When the mannequin is assembled, it becomes the spectre of the man’s wife, and he is confronted with what he did. As the ultimate act is committed, the puppet is crucial in showing how violent we can be. This may be a little too uncomfortable if such violence is enacted on a human actor. 

The promotional materials describe this piece as “high octane”, but the initial menacing quality of the piece is not ramped up towards the climax. While one might worry about how much the audience can take, I think there is still more room to push this further. 

Ian Tan handles and gives voice to the rod puppet, Paul. T. Saitharan plays Paul’s father
Photo: Benson Lim / Courtesy of The Finger Players

The Bench brings us back to familiar ground with Marilyn Ang’s rod puppet which plays the son, Paul, whose relationship with his father (T. Sasitharan) is strained.

Having lost his wife, the father has to raise his son alone and tries to connect with him by creating an environment that the father thinks is beautiful—building a bench that can play sounds when touching different parts of it, and telling him stories or quotes by luminaries of the past whenever Paul needs some guidance. 

Paul drifts from his father as he tires of the cryptic wisdom provided by his father, which does not seem to help him navigate through the thickets of life. 

In this wistful play, written by Ellison Tan and directed by Myra Loke, we see Paul grow from an infant to a young adult through the sensitive puppeteering and line delivery by Ian Tan. 

One of the key features in Marilyn Ang’s design of Paul is a mechanism in the chest which allows it to emit bubbles. At a few points in the play, we see Paul emitting a stream of bubbles from his chest, as if he is pouring his heart out. Just like the stories and quotes from his father, they appear beautiful, but are fleeting and do not exist long enough for a connection to be made. 

Delicate performances from T. Sasitharan and Ian Tan / Photo: Benson Lim / Courtesy of The Finger Players

T. Sasitharan, as Paul’s father, has an unmistaken presence and one could listen to him tell stories for hours. Despite him likening acting with and reacting to puppets as a high-wire act sans safety net, he does it effortlessly.

However, even when the relationship is fraying, the father still resorts to quotes and anecdotes to communicate with his son. One wishes that the audience with some sort of indication—either through the text or direction—as to why the father could not speak from the heart, despite being very eloquent in relaying wisdom from the past.

With a few beautiful moments sprinkled in the piece, which brings out Marilyn Ang’s exploration of tactility and bubbles, the piece is an elegy of father-son relationships, and the missed opportunities for connection. 

Despite needing a few tweaks, everyone involved in the triple-bill must be congratulated for creating works that incorporate the puppets in an organic way, while throwing humanity’s needs, desires, and frailties into sharper relief. 

Other Reviews

“Theatre review: The Puppets Are Alright is sophisticated storytelling about grief and love” by Charmaine Lim, The Straits Times Life! (Review is behind a paywall.)

“To Make is To Care” by Lee Shu Yu, harmonicstagebeams

“The Puppets Are Alright” by The Finger Players—and I know the outgoing artistic directors will be alright too” by Corrie Tan, the intimate critic

“Response: Alex Li on The Puppets Are Alright by Ellison Tan, Oliver Chong, and Chong Tze Chien (The Finger Players)” by Alex Li, Critics Circle Blog

Further Reading

[Interview] Creatives shed light on ‘The Puppets are Alright’ by The Finger Players

[Interview] Ellison Tan and Myra Loke celebrate their stint as co-artistic directors of The Finger Players with The Puppets are Alright

Programme booklet of The Puppets are Alright