Podesta’s feminist retelling of The Little Mermaid strips the tale of its interpretative possibilities.
The Immortal Sole
18 January 2018
Esplanade Theatre Studio
17–20 January 2018
We often describe something as a fairy tale to mean that it is fanciful or one-dimensional. If that is so, then Edith Podesta’s latest attempt to retell The Little Mermaid is more of a fairy tale than Hans Christian Andersen’s original yarn.
The initial portion of the original tale sees the mermaid visiting the world inhabited by human beings. She falls in love with a prince and saves him when a storm hits his ship. As the prince is unconscious, he does not know of her existence. On finding out that humans have an immortal soul, she seeks out a witch. Despite learning that she can become human exchange for an excruciating physical sacrifice, the mermaid consciously agrees to go through the pain.
Such a tale raises questions such as what it means to be human, and whether the mermaid made her choice because she loved the prince or she wanted immortality.
In The Immortal Sole, Podesta appropriates this tale as an allegory of what one must go through to become a woman.
As such, Little Mermaid (Koh Wan Ching) does not fall in love with the prince, but develops an unhealthy obsession with him, and wails lyrics to “Toxic” by Britney Spears to a Ken doll.
Instead of being given a choice, Podesta’s mermaid is cajoled by the witch and her posse (Ma Yanling, Dapheny Chen, and Yarra Ileto) to fit in, as the former endures the group campily lip syncing to Spears’ “Work Bitch”. A similar sequence, but this time with Rihanna’s “Bitch Better Have My Money”, occurs towards the latter half of the show, when the mermaid fails to make the prince fall in love with her.
In terms of movement vocabulary, while there are some beautiful synchronised movements in the shallow pool of water (wonderfully designed by Adrian Tan), we see the choreographic shorthand for internal turmoil—body convulsions and silent screams.
Unfortunately, they are not effective as they have been employed by one-too-many choreographers. Furthermore, these moments are not well-earned as the major conflicts in the story are diluted by the abovementioned lip sync sequences.
In another scene, having attained human legs, we see the mermaid being pressured by the witch and her posse to cock a hip and strike various poses—a patently obvious reference to body image issues that plague women. As the soundscape (also designed by Adrian Tan) intensifies, I thought the scene would culminate into a disclosure of something more profound. But all one gets is the use of strobe lighting, and we see snatches of the whole ensemble striking different poses in mid-air whenever the light flashes. This goes on for quite a while—a waste of technical wizardry and the performers’ athleticism.
In sum, The Immortal Sole is merely a reiteration of broad talking points, but it adds nothing to the discourse.
Worse still, Podesta strips Little Mermaid of her agency and, like a fish out of water, she is completely helpless against the seemingly malicious demands of society. Unlike the mermaid of the original tale, this mermaid hardly elicits any sympathy, and the show does a disservice to women out there who have truly struggled and pushed back.
Leaving the theatre, I realised that I would have a much better understanding of the difficulties women face in society by having a heartfelt conversation with my mother over supper.
More importantly, the ticket price of $27, which came out of my pocketbook, would have made for a rather hearty supper.
“Notions of ideal beauty gone in a splash” by Germaine Cheng, The Straits Times Life!
“M1 Fringe Festival 2018: The Immortal Sole by Edith Podesta (Review)” by Bak Chor Mee Boy