Neo Hai Bin

[Theatre Review] No Man’s Land by The Necessary Stage: Soapbox Contestations

/ Isaac Tan / Leave a comment

Dissecting masculinity / Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

No Man’s Land
The Necessary Stage
12 June 2025
Esplanade Studio Theatre
12–15 June 2025

In the programme notes, playwright Danial Martin tells us that “No Man’s Land is not an answer; it is a confrontation” about different ideas about masculinity and how that plays out in society. This is wonderfully realised in the opening physical sequence where five performers enter a circle in grey singlets as they confront each other mano a mano to Ng Jing’s primal, guttural soundscape.

Unfortunately, unlike the flexed muscles and tensed sinews in the movement sequence, the dramaturgy and writing could have grappled with the complexities of masculinity a little more. 

Co-directed by Sim Yan Ying and Alvin Tan, with Lim Shien Hein as dramaturg, this interdisciplinary devised piece has several vignettes peppered amidst the physical sequences. 

Flexed muscles and tensed sinews of Shahizman Sulaiman (left), Michael Tan (centre), and Neo Hai Bin (right) /
Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

Initially, these vignettes seem to comprise actors playing stock characters, highlighting the broad issues of masculinity:  body image, dealing with infidelity,  parental expectations, responsibilities to a woman and child born out of wedlock, sharing intimate photos and videos of women without their consent, kinks, etc.

Imagine my surprise when it later becomes clear that the characters are not one-off, but are related to each other. We do not see them struggling with the implications of their circumstances as things seem to happen to them. Although the characters are not meant to have a naturalistic character arc, the lack of struggle then leaves us with merely examples of men behaving badly. This forgoes the opportunity to invite for us to understand what led them to behave this way.

Men behaving badly / Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

Another device meant to get the audience to confront ideas about masculinity is the metatheatrical moments when the actors comment on the play in two instances. In the “intermission”, which is specifically stated to be slightly over seven minutes, Shahizman Sulaiman explains—or, as the modern lingo would have it, mansplain—the first half of the show to “align” the audience with the artistic intention, thereby resisting alternative interpretations of the show. Some might feel that this parallels the patriarchal narratives of one’s lived experiences.

The other instance is when Suhaili Safari complains that she is the only woman in the cast who not only offers the token female perspective, but also takes on many roles in which she  either does the physical or emotional labour in service to men. Neo Hai Bin then laments that he wishes that he lived in a society where this is not so. While it is undeniable that this parallels the experiences of women worldwide, it does not go beyond a complaint. 

The lesbian sister (Suhali Safari) and her gay brother (Vishnucharan Naidu) deciding if she should return to Singapore /
Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

In the same scene, Vishnucharan Naidu also apologises to Suhaili saying that his character (a gay man who plays the role of the dutiful son despite his mother not recognising his sexual orientation) has made used of her character (sister who is lesbian who left for Korea because she wants to live life on her own terms) to rediscover himself.  This presumes that the self is formed and evolved on one’s own, almost in a vacuum, when we often discover parts of ourselves when encountering a particular situation or interacting with others.

Thus, there is a stronger sense of wondering aloud, rather than a clash of ideas, perspectives, and trade-offs in the show. 

The Empress Dominatrix (Suhaili Safari) controls her Eunuch Client (Neo Hai Bin) /
Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

That said, there is much to commend the show for. 

In the movement sequences, Hafeez Hassan blends various traditions (bharatanatyam, martial arts, wrestling, hip hop, contemporary, etc.) to come up with a cohesive vocabulary for his choreography. Even though there are some performers who are not movement trained, they appear as a synergised ensemble and everyone actively participates in the movement sequences.

The text by Danial Martin may be simple, but there are occasions when it hits one right in the gut. In a scene where an unnamed victim of an explicit Telegram channel (Suhali Safari) delivers a monologue, she mentions that while not all men would indulge in something so sordid, but with 44,000 pairs of eyes on her, it feels like it could be so. In one line, Danial slices through the polarities, and elicits sympathy for the trauma that many girls have experienced. 

The way creative captioner Su Paing Tun designs the text to pulse, fade, and appear with accompanying graphics is truly creative and an art on its own. 

Michael Tan (centre) tenderly reflects on his journey as a man in a letter to his younger self /
Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

Michael Tan has a certain tenderness in the delivery of two monologues about looking back at his life as a man and discovering self-pleasure at 15. He considers that to be quite young, even though the younger generation will consider it to be quite late; a missed opportunity to explore conceptions of masculinity according to different generations. 

Suhaili Safari’s versatility is a treat to behold as she plays characters of varying ages, backgrounds, and a rousing number about men to the tune of “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend”.

Shahizman Sulaiman (left) and Neo Hai Bin (right), teach Vishnucharan Naidu (middle) how to behave like a man /
Photo: Tuckys Photography / Courtesy of The Necessary Stage

Shahizman Sulaiman and Neo Hai Bin sparkle as fairies teaching Vishnucharan Naidu how to behave as a man. It is refreshing to see Neo in a camp role, but there is also depth to his performance in a silent scene with his father where he cycles the whole gamut of emotions before breaking down. 

Shahizman also displays a wonderful physical deftness in the various physical sequences, while Vishnucharan has a subtlety that opens up to tenderness in the scene when he asks his sister to return to Singapore after their parents have died. 

While the show could have prod us further to consider the complexities of masculinity, it still exposes us to the possibilities of interdisciplinary performance in examining important issues.

Further Reading

Programme booklet for No Man’s Land

Other Reviews

“Theatre review: Theatrical and funny, No Man’s Land questions ideas of manhood” by Clement Yong, The Straits Times Life! (Article is behind a paywall)  | Transcript of review

“【艺评】《无人之境》的意义在第四堵墙裂缝之处” by 孙靖斐, Lianhe Zaobao

“Review: Suria on No Man’s Land by Sim Yan Ying “YY”, Alvin Tan & Danial Matin (The Necessary Stage)” by Suria, Critic’s Circle Blog

“Review: Cheng Nien Yuan on No Man’s Land by Sim Yan Ying “YY”, Alvin Tan & Danial Matin (The Necessary Stage)” by Cheng Nien Yuan, Critic’s Circle Blog

“No Man’s Land: Siapa ajar lelaki jadi begini?” by Pengkritik Sandiwara

“No Man’s Land” by Naeem Kapadia, Crystalwords

“Review: Review: No Man’s Land (The Necessary Stage)” by Aileen Tang, The Flying Inkpot

“[Theatre Review] The Necessary Stage’s “No Man’s Land” Takes on Modern Masculinity, Perfect Watch for Lonely Male Dudes This Father’s Day Weekend” by Alvin Lim, Alvinology

[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

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

/ Isaac Tan / 1 Comment

The Puppets are Alright is a triple-bill of puppetry-led works which features the puppets by the participants of The Maker’s Lab: Sim Xin Feng (2020), Loo An Ni (2021), and Marilyn Ang (2022).

At the end of The Maker’s Lab, a production is created around the featured puppet. The Puppets are Alright serves as a culmination of the past three iterations of The Maker’s Lab, in which the puppets are featured in new plays.

This is borne out of the concerns of The Finger Players (TFP) as they explore ways in which sustainability can be incorporated into the practice of puppetry.

Following my interview with Ellison Tan and Myra Loke, co-artistic directors of TFP, I spoke to the creatives behind the triple-bill to find out more about each piece.

The Bench

On a bench, Paul and his father tell each other stories, disregard their unhappiness
with reckless abandon, and allow their souls to be healed by each other. But as time
goes by, there is an acknowledgement—that nobody can save your soul if you won’t
save your own, and if only Paul knew, that his father would stop at nothing to save his.

THE BENCH features the latest puppet exploration of Marilyn Ang, selected maker
of The Maker’s Lab Cycle 2022/2023.

Playwright: Ellison Tan
Director: Myra Loke
Puppet Designer & Maker: Marilyn Ang
Performers / Puppeteers: Ian Tan, T. Sasitharan

Did you write the play specifically around the puppet? If so, what aspects of the puppet inspired you?

Ellison Tan: For this iteration of The Maker’s Lab, Myra and myself were involved in the process much earlier than before, and what we did was to support the selected maker’s curiosities. 

Marilyn Ang was interested in sound tactility (hence the Playtron exploration), and experimented on a few textures based on emotions. Eventually, she settled on sound tactility as well as soap as a texture, which eventually evolved to be represented by bubbles, and so I wrote a play that could house these two concepts. 

Myra Loke: When Marilyn was exploring different tactile experiences (e.g., using ice, wax, charcoal, etc.), I was captivated by the ephemerality of the bubbles. It is so light, almost weightless, but when it burst in my palm, my heart stopped a bit. How could something so light evoke such a deep and heavy emotion in me? This feeling inspired my approach to the story, and the development of the puppets with Marilyn and Daniel Sim. 

Were there any unique challenges in writing a play with a puppet as a character?

Ellison Tan: I don’t think it’s a unique challenge because it feels quite universal—can this story be told only with puppetry elements? There are infinite possibilities in staging a story, so the challenge then becomes how can I write something that presents this puppet as crucial to the story, and not as an afterthought? It was also absolutely essential for the possibilities of the puppet to be illustrated to its fullest potential.

Were there any interesting insights or discoveries during the rehearsal process?

T. Sasitharan: Acting with puppets and puppeteers requires multiple imaginations to be working simultaneously. I, as actor, must instantaneously “translate” the actions of the puppet into the actions of the baby, while respond to the “baby” in my arms as a puppet at the same time. It’s like being on a high-wire without a net; intensely scary and exciting. It’s the first time I’m experiencing this as an actor.

Has witnessing your creation being used in a different context made you look at your puppet anew? Did you gain any new insights in the puppet-making process as you watch the performers work with your creation? 

Marilyn Ang: As this is my first time leading the puppet design and build of a show, I’ve learnt about what goes into the process of designing puppets and allowing my build to move along with the needs of the director and performers. As an assistant maker for the past two iterations of The Maker’s Lab, it allowed me to learn some of the processes and skills needed to understand the ways a puppet can be made. This helped in problem-solving when it came to designing and making the puppets for “The Bench”.

Sometimes in the process of making something, I get a little frustrated, but when I finally see the puppet in the rehearsal with the puppeteer, It feels exhilarating to see the performers give life to an otherwise static object. My role as a puppet designer would only be as good as a puppeteer makes of the puppet.

Parting

A relationship has run its course and a man sits at his desk to finalize a separation.

Inspired by Director and Playwright Oliver Chong’s first production (I’m Just a Piano
Teacher) at The Finger Players, PARTING is a high octane piece that features
cleavers, limbs, granny panties and sheer fury.

PARTING is a collaboration between Oliver Chong and Loo An Ni, and is an
extension of Loo An Ni’s journey in The Maker’s Lab Cycle 2021/2022. Witness
Oliver re-imagine An Ni’s puppet in this short, swift and bloody piece.

Playwright & Director: Oliver Chong
Puppet Designer & Maker: Loo An Ni
Performers / Puppeteers: Alvin Chiam, Angelina Chandra, Jo Kwek, Rachel Nip

Did you write the play specifically around the puppet? If so, what aspects of the puppet inspired you?

Oliver Chong: Yes. I was inspired by the body parts of the puppet which are easily detachable and interchangeable.

Were there any unique challenges in writing a play with a puppet as a character?

Oliver Chong: In this case, the challenge is in showcasing the unique qualities of the puppet. The play has to justify these qualities in such a way that the puppet has been specifically created for the narrative. Otherwise, it is about justifying why the character must be played by a puppet and not a human actor.

Has witnessing your creation being used in a different context made you look at your puppet anew?

Loo An Ni: A different puppet was created for “Parting” using the modular system of bones and joints developed during my time with The Maker’s Lab. It was thrilling to be able to apply the system in another context, and further test the concept of modularity.

 

My Father the AI Machine

She clings on to her dead husband’s memories, lovingly preserved in an electronic shell
of him in her house. He lives on in a fictional world that she tenderly and tirelessly
recreates, while their son is caught in between, unable to move on. In a near future
when one can preserve the dead as an AI machine, would you do it, and at what price?

MY FATHER THE AI MACHINE brings back the puppet created by Sim Xin Feng,
selected maker of The Maker’s Lab Cycle 2020/2021.

Playwright: Chong Tze Chien
Director: Liew Jia Yi
Puppet Designer & Maker: Sim Xin Feng
Performers / Puppeteers: Doreen Toh, Neo Hai Bin

Did you write the play specifically around the puppet? If so, what aspects of the puppet inspired you?

Chong Tze Chien: I wrote the play as a response to Chiam (the name of the puppet built by Xin Feng), specifically its earlier incarnation as a puppet developed under The Maker’s Lab, which Xin Feng conceptualised and crafted over a year.

I was intrigued by my impression of that relationship between the maker and the created, and the co-dependency and embryonic bond between the two. Using that as a running theme, I created a parallel story between a mother who crafts a narrative around a construct, as a puppeteer or puppet-maker would with her creation. To the puppet-maker and mother character in the play, their creation is as real as a human being.

What were some challenges in creating this piece?

Liew Jia Yi: I am usually a more “micro” person, so one challenge was to keep reminding myself to step back, see the big picture, and envision how the different design elements come together cohesively to tell the story. Thankfully, I have a very good mentor and team who keep me on track and ask good questions to shape the show more clearly.

Were there any interesting insights or discoveries during the rehearsal process?

Liew Jia Yi: One discovery was that the future I would like to paint for AI machine is not so much of a dystopian state, but rather a very possible future where the people are offered more high-tech options that can interfere with what was typically impossible (e.g., time travel, space travel, reversing death, reversing environmental damage, etc.). So in a way, it is quite hopeful and exciting.

Of course, there would be other possibly negative “symptoms” such as greater income gap, inflation, older retirement age, wars happening elsewhere in the world, etc.

But in this piece, I would like to focus more on how the layman (i.e., the two characters) position themselves in such a world, and how they deal with death when choices such as the Revive the Dead Programme become possible (in the play, advancement in medical science has made memory transference of the dead to machines possible).

Doreen Toh: This is my first experience acting with a puppet. Other than having to find ways to adapt to him, the most important thing is just to be there to listen to him. As a puppet, he supposedly cannot give and take spontaneously like a human actor, but as the days go by, I can sense his response and the connection between us.

Neo Hai Bin: Working with the puppet, and by the puppet, brings back fond childhood memories of playing with toys. I love how puppets (re-)kindle our sense of imagination.

Catch It!

Tickets
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[Theatre Review] First Fleet – A Boatload of Artful Ingenuity

/ Isaac Tan / Leave a comment

Photo: Bernie Ng

First Fleet 《第一舰队》
Nine Years Theatre
21 July 2019, 3 p.m.
Far East Organisation Auditorium, Singapore Chinese Cultural Centre
18‒21 July 2019

Those who are familiar with Nine Years Theatre’s repertoire might be surprised by director-writer Nelson Chia’s decision to write an original Mandarin script inspired by Thomas Keneally’s novel, The Playmaker (1987), and the subsequent play based on the novel by Timberlake Wertenbaker, Our Country’s Good (1988).

With both works appearing in the late 1980s to a limited reach, they could hardly be considered classics. However, Chia’s literary script and masterful direction truly makes a case for it to be considered so.

First Fleet revolves around the voyage taken by the first batch of British convicts and their accompanying officers to Australia to set up a penal colony. Governor Arthur Philip (Hang Qian Chou) tasks Lieutenant Ralph Clark (Timothy Wan) to rehearse a play with the convicts as a form of rehabilitation, to the sneering disapproval of Major Robert Ross (Mia Chee). Also wading into the debate are Father Richard Johnson (Jodi Chan), Dr John White (Shu Yi Ching), and Judge David Collins (Neo Hai Bin).

For a country that prides itself on the Magna Carta and how Britannia ruled the waves, First Fleet is a searing indictment on the seeming values and accomplishments that our former colonial masters hold dear.

Throughout the course of the play we see the officers debate the merits of punishment and rehabilitation; find out the backstory of the various convicts, which is a critique of the bluntness and corruptibility of the justice system (one sees poignant parallels to Edith Podesta’s Dark Room); see the potential of theatre espoused within the plot and staging; and receive a valuable acting masterclass.

Chia not only manages to fit all these themes into the show, he boldly exercises some artistic licence to reiterate his stance as an artist, while enhancing the audience’s experience of the show.

He departs from the original text by having the convicts rehearse Moliere’s Tartuffe. This is not merely a cheeky nod to the company’s production in 2015. Rather, this allows Chia to have one of the convicts, Lady Anne Sheldon, ask why they are presenting a French play when they are English—a common query that Chia faces himself whenever he stages a translation of a classic foreign play. In the show, Lieutenant Clark speaks about empathy and the value in the message of the play, regardless of provenance.   

Additionally, the fact Tartuffe is a comedic farce lends itself easily to the actors presenting a highly stylised acting. This is not only paves the way for Lieutenant Clark to coach his actors on naturalistic acting, in which characters act on inner motivations, it also provides comic interludes for the audience to take a breather from the darker themes in the show.

Whether you are viewing the show from port, starboard, bow, or stern, there is a stunning level of attention to every detail in the show.

Photo: The Pond Photography

Undoubtedly, First Fleet is incredibly demanding on the ensemble. Not only do they have to double up as the convicts,—the blind witch, Liz Abraham (Mia Chee); the man who avenged his brother, Henry Mason (Hang Qian Chou); the hangman, William Paterson (Neo Hai Bin); the aristocrat, Lady Anne Sheldon (Jodi Chan); and the maid, Mary Beckman (Shu Yi Ching)—they have to manoeuvre the sails and perform movement sequences as transitions. The nuances in the actors’ body are amazing to watch as they endow the sails and boxes with a certain amount of weight that is actually not there.

Kudos to Chia, in working with Lim Chin Huat (movement coach and set designer), to block movement sequences that adds visual interest and complement Lim’s nautical set design by creating the feeling of a rocking boat. Furthermore, the sudden tilt of the kerosene lamps that were attached to metal poles, and suspended from the top, in conjunction with the movement of the actors’ bodies is nothing short of astounding sorcery.

There is also an additional layer of gestural language in which the actors signal their roles by rubbing their wrists or looking at their palms when they are playing convicts, or clench their fists and clutch their coats when playing the officers.

This is, and I actually mean this literally, layered on by Loo An Ni’s wonderful costumes as the skirts, vests, and capes of the convicts turn into military coats by inverting them. What puzzles me is how she manages to provide a strong structure to the shoulders of the military coats without any obvious bulges indicating the presence of shoulder pads when they are turned to skirts or capes. Sartorial enthusiasts will also appreciate her designs that are vaguely appropriate for the 18th century while having whimsical details that are quite fashion forward, such as the steel grey faux leather shoes with diagonal zips running across them.

Add other details such as Gabriel Chan’s lighting design that carves out the cramped space of the lower deck, and washing the stage with a tinge of light blue to create the expanse and coldness of the upper deck; Ng Jing’s inclusion of a didgeridoo as a base drone in the soundscape, while having percussive elements on top of it to create tension; the slight wave-like effect when the surtitles are flashed on the screen; and the serifed font to differentiate the text of the play that the convicts are rehearsing from the dialogues of the characters—we get an extravaganza of theatrical languages that is diverse as the Tower of Babel.

Rather than descending to utter chaos, Nelson Chia—by some miraculous means or sheer ingenuity—ties them all together and brings us on a theatrical voyage that I have not experienced in years.

Of course, one cannot review this show without speaking about the ending. My colleagues may have expressed surprise and delight, but they have done you, my gentle readers, a disservice for not relaying the full impact of the scene.

Unlike most audience members, I am familiar with the auditorium and went into the show fully aware that the audience is seated on the stage of the auditorium. I half-expected the rest of the auditorium to be revealed as it would be a missed opportunity otherwise. However, as the expected come to pass, and we see the sole kerosene lamp on a seat in the auditorium with constellations projected on the ceilings, it is breathtakingly beautiful. As the convicts go into the auditorium and clamber over the seats, there is something cinematic about that and the seats turn into the rocky terrain of New South Wales in an instant. I had to take a moment to catch my breath even as the lights went up and we are ushered out of the venue.

Fun fact: Had the stars aligned slightly differently, Nelson Chia would have been a naval officer. If Mr Chia promises similar experiences in the future, the Republic of Singapore Navy can definitely do without an officer. In fact, it is in the national interest that they do so. 

Other Reviews

“First Fleet more than another colonisation play” by Ong Sor Fen, The Straits Times Life! (Behind paywall)

航向希望的港口 ——观“第一舰队” by李连辉 , 剧读 (originally published in《联合早报》)
[Title Translation: Towards a Port of Hope—Watching First Fleet] by Li Lian Hui (pinyin transliteration), Lianhe Zaobao

“Doesn’t God dream of forgiving our sins?” by Idelle Yee, Centre 42 Citizens’ Review

“Review: First Fleet (第一舰队) by Nine Years Theatre” by Bak Chor Mee Boy

“Experience Meta-tea-trical Magic with First Fleet” by Cheryl Tan, Popspoken

“剧场与艺术的力量 —— 观《第一舰队》” by 张棋汶 , 剧读 
[Title Translation: The Power of Theatre and Art—Watching First Fleet] by Zhang Qi Wen (pinyin transliteration), Ju Du

“Looking away for clarity: ‘First Fleet’ by Nine Years Theatre” by Nabilah Said, Arts Equator

[Theatre Review] Faust/Us — Reinterpreting the Dust of Dead Men

/ Isaac Tan / Leave a comment

Photo: Crispian Chan

Faust/Us
Nine Years Theatre
24 March 2019, 3 p.m.
Drama Centre Black Box
21‒24 March 2019

Stage a conflict between God and Mephistopheles within a two-storey wooden structure? Recast Faust as a young woman? Rewrite the second part of Faust?

Nine Years Theatre (NYT) new associate director Cherilyn Woo, has achieved all that and more in Faust/Us, the company’s Mandarin adaptation of Faust.

This production marks a couple of firsts for the company: the first show that isn’t directed by Nelson Chia, and the first production in which a part of the plot is completely rewritten.

Woo turns the cautionary tale of man’s greed into a humanistic piece that ennobles the human struggle.

The wager between God (Hang Qian Chou) and Mephistopheles (Timothy Wan) is no longer a symbol of sin and redemption, but a childish and selfish bet at the expense of humanity. Faust is not a crazed man, but Jo Faust (Mia Chee), a woman who signs a pact with Mephistopheles after being bogged down by ennui. She does not fall in love with Grett (Neo Hai Bin) out of lust, but out of admiration of his writing. At the show’s climax, Faust does not give in to one side or the other, but proceeds with the pact on her own terms.

This bold reimagination by Woo is arguably more in line with the Enlightenment ideals than Goethe’s version.

While Faust/Us may not have ensemble scenes that have become a signature of NYT’s productions, Woo does tap into the ensemble training that the actors go through with occasional synchronised movements, and having Grett glide across the space as God tries to convince Faust to come to his side.

Mia Chee balances between Faust’s ambition and her emotional vulnerability wonderfully, imbuing the titular character with more complexity.

Timothy Wan’s Mephistopheles is quick-witted with a sharp tongue to match. Wan plays off Chee very well, charming her every step of the way. It is easy to see why anyone would root for the devil for most of the show.

Neo Hai Bin endears himself to the audience with his earnest portrayal of the fruit seller, while sending students giggling when Grett and Faust are in the first blushes of love.

Hang Qian Chou does not leave much of an impression as God, but elicits sympathy as Wagner, Faust’s faithful friend.

It is difficult to stage a spectacle of cosmic proportions in such a small space. But lighting designer Adrian Tan and sound designer Zai Tang makes do by signalling a chance of space with coloured lights strategically fixed on to the set (designed by Petrina Dawn Tan) or a layered soundscape.

The creative team must be commended for managing to create a foreboding atmosphere when Mephistopheles suddenly appears without resorting to the age-old trick of smoke machines.

When she first appears, Faust laments that all human achievement will turn to dust eventually, and we are merely piling dust on layers of dust.

Woo responds by clearing away centuries of dust and allowing us to view this tale afresh, while offering a glimmer of hope to the seemingly Sisyphean struggle that is life.

Other Reviews

“Theatre review: FAUST/US by Nine Years Theatre is fiendishly good” by Akshita Nanda, The Straits Times Life! 

“She Creates: Nine Years Theatre’s ‘FAUST/US 浮世/德'” by Daniel Teo, Arts Equator

“The Spectacular Mundane in Faust/Us“ by Teo Xiao Ting, Centre 42 Citizens’ Review

“Review: FAUST/US (浮世/德) by Nine Years Theatre” by Bak Chor Mee Boy