Oddly, as
World-in-Theatre has moved from epic dramas towards quieter, more intimate
work, this reviewer and long-time fan has become more alienated. Whereas
I was exhilarated by earlier pieces like The
Royal Hunt of the Sun because of their colour and vibrancy,
I have found myself less engaged by the company’s chamber pieces
like 2005’s A
French Double Bill: the direction is often flat which emphasises
the weaknesses of these dour, text-heavy dramas, and I am unable to
connect with the characters because I find some of the actors’
presentational style of acting – perfect for Indian gods, biblical
apostles and Inca warriors – too jarring in this supposedly more
naturalistic context. Unfortunately, I had similar reservations with
the company’s latest work, Mishima, a double-bill staging
of Yukio Mishima’s Hanjo and Lady Aoi based
on English translations by Donald Keene.
The first piece, Hanjo, is about the relationship between
the lonely and disappointed Jitsuko (Bridget Therese) and her young
charge, Hanako (Sherilyn Tan). As the play progresses, Hanako slowly
loses hope in being reunited with the man she has met briefly at a railway
station and begins to go mad even as the older woman seems to find a
kind of fulfilment in keeping the despondent girl more and more dependent
on her. It is a delicate piece, the text and lines of dialogue carefully
crafted and put together, and there will, no doubt, have been some in
the audience who were moved by the poetry of the lines and the story
of both women’s aching desperation.
However, the lack of variation in staging and movement again made it
hard for me to really invest in the play. The stillness of the actors
and the confined, minimalist set evoked a suitably claustrophobic atmosphere
but it also meant that the actors were left to carry the full weight
of the play and, as in A French Double Bill, none of the actors
actually had the stage presence or vitality of spirit to do so. They
did all the right things on the surface but I was never convinced that
they got under the skin of their characters. As a result, I often tuned
out of the play.
There was also little chemistry between the different cast members
and I found the conflicting styles of the two lead actresses particularly
distracting: Therese spoke in a strict, mannered fashion while Tan presented
her character with more softness and naturalism. The play was further
destabilised by the appearance of Kevin Chua in the small part of the
young man, Yoshio, who appeared to have simply wandered onstage to say
his lines. There was actually a certain endearing affability in this
young student actor’s performance, but it clashed too much with
Therese’s harsher tones.
The second piece, Lady Aoi, had greater coherence and seemed
to come alive more. The script, while still wordy and meandering, had
greater breadth and this gave directors Sonny Lim and Richard Chua more
opportunities to play with the staging and the unfolding of the narrative:
Lady Aoi (Sherilyn Tan), a woman who lies ill in hospital is visited
every night by the spirit of Mrs Rokujo (Bridget Therese), the former
lover of Lady Aoi’s husband, Hikaru (Andrew Mowatt). It is unclear,
however, whether this spirit, who also appears one night to Hikaru himself
in Lady Aoi’s hospital room, is a figment of Lady Aoi’s
imagination, a projection of Hiakru’s guilt or a representation
of Mrs Rokujo’s own longing for Hikaru.
Therese as the alluring Mrs Rokujo seemed more in her element here.
Right from her entrance, she brought energy, playfulness and feistiness
to her role as she moved around the stage like a lioness guarding her
territory. As the play progressed and Mrs Rokujo became increasingly
desperate to keep Hikaru beside her, Therese was also able to portray
her character’s fear and longing, although again, I was never
sure if she had completely internalised her character’s emotions.
Tan impressed me more in this piece as well. Though she had no lines
in the play, she was a strong presence in it as she tossed and turned
throughout the play and grew increasingly agitated while Mrs Rokujo
led Hikaru down memory lane and reminded him of their good times together.
She only had her face to express her pain and fear of losing her husband
but it was all there - I am looking forward to seeing more of this promising
young student actor.
Mowatt’s performance was grounded if a little one-note but my
main problem was with the part of Lady Aoi’s nurse (Elizabeth
Tan): it was played with so many little tonal shifts that I was not
always sure what to make of her character. The nurse was, at turns,
flirty, dreamy, chatty, wise and sad. Elizabeth Tan played each mode
well but I would have liked a clearer and less mercurial reading of
this character who had limited stage time but important and poignant
information to impart about the complexities of relationships between
men and women.
Ultimately, I felt there was a lack of a strong directorial vision
in both these pieces. They seemed set up simply as acting showcases
but unfortunately, none of the performances, especially in Hanjo,
was truly impassioned or inspired. What I was left with, then, were
just wisps of promise that never quite cohered enough to haunt me. |
"The lack of variation in staging and movement made it hard for
me to really invest in the play"
Credits
Directors: Richard Chua and Sonny Lim
Set Designer / Costume Co-ordinator: Richard Chua
Lighting Designer: Rabita Jamal
Graphic Designer / Costume
Co-ordinator: Shirin Begum
Stage Manager: Nureen Raidah
Costume Production: Radiah Aljunied
Publicity: Apsara-Asia
Cast: Bridget Therese, Sherilyn Tan, Kevin Chua / Dominic
Wong, Andrew Mowatt and Elizabeth Tan
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