The last
play of Ovidia Yu's which I saw was The
Silence of the Kittens (2006) and while I thought the script
for that play was reasonably solid, I also felt that it had the air
of being a first draft and could have done with some thoughtful rewriting.
Because Hitting (On) Women was being re-staged after winning
Best New Play at Theatre Idols 2007, I thought that any earlier problems
the script had had would have been ironed out: the script would be tightened
to showcase Yu's rich narratives and acute ear for dialogue while eschewing
her lapses into the overwrought and heavy-handed.
Indeed, I did find the script for Women more consistently
engaging than Kittens'. Even though large tracts of this very
intimate play consisted simply of two lovers (Woman played by Janice
Koh and Karen played by Serene Chen) recounting their lives together,
Women never dragged because the characters were always vividly
alive and Yu timed the pace of the play well. I cannot vouch for the
authenticity of the situation being played out - that of an abusive
relationship - but I can vouch for the intensity of emotion that the
play made me feel. It was clear that a lot of thought and heart had
gone into crafting the story and the emotions of the two women. You
really believed in the painful twisting of mental knots that a character
like Woman had to endure when stuck in a relationship with a violent
lover - should she stay out of love or go out of fear? The play explored
many ideas related to this central theme of abuse - how insecurity about
oneself can lead to abuse by others; how Woman, unnamed throughout the
play presumably to represent women in general, is ill-served by society
- and while this exploration was not particularly fresh or insightful,
it was nonetheless satisfying because of its quiet yet hard-hitting
approach to dealing with such a taboo subject. In the way it dealt with
its subject matter, Yu's script always came across as intelligent, sincere
and respectful and never sensationalised.
(I should add that the themes of the play were also nicely brought
out by the set design. While I personally found the set overly cluttered,
I have to admit that the symbolism added a nice touch: Woman is dwarfed
by over-sized pieces of furniture which make her seem like a lost, little
child and the floor is covered in twisted telephone wires which she
unravels during the course of the play, just as she unravels the metaphorical
threads that bind and suffocate her.)
Unfortunately, some of the weaknesses I saw in Kittens reared
their ugly heads in Women as well. Again, Yu's sidesteps into
comedy, while inspired in some places (notably in the form of a church
counselor who hears only what she wants to hear), were insipid in others.
Indictments of Penal Code 377A which criminalizes homosexual acts between
men, for example, were clumsily written and did not fit the intimate
tone of the play. They were too contextually specific and this made
the actors sound like they were suddenly standing on political soapboxes.
Such political commentary worked better in Happy Endings: Asian
Boys Vol. 3 because it was more in tune with the nature of the
play. And while one such misstep may have gone unnoticed, to have belaboured
the point a second time and then a third bordered on the cringe-worthy
- especially when the execution was lazy: it seemed at one point that
Yu was saying lesbianism was illegal in Singapore but then, at another
point, she seemed to be saying it wasn't. I also found myself distracted
by the introduction of a seemingly never-ending train of characters
making cameo appearances. These were largely unnecessary - particularly
when Loretta Chen's performances were hit and miss (I liked her ease
as Woman's friend but found her to be stiff as Woman's lover) and neither
Benjamin Ng nor Peggy Ferroa's voice on the phone left much of an impression
anyway.
Bringing the script to the stage was director Samantha Scott-Blackhall,
who continues her run of very competently staged plays. For better or
for worse, her direction rarely draws attention to itself. Instead,
the play was more a showcase for the two seasoned actors and both rose
beautifully to the challenge by delivering intense performances.
Koh's breakdown scenes were particularly difficult to watch -
it was impossible not to be drawn into her character's pain. She
was well cast for the role because, while she has the ability to display
all her emotions right there on the surface, she still hints at hidden
depths. Koh is like a bird - seemingly small and fragile but actually
stronger than you think. This captures the complexity of the character
and the situation and makes the character believable when she finally
stands up for herself at the end of the play.
Chen had the showier role as the mannish Karen. Chen was practically
unrecognisable with cropped hair, polo and jeans and because of the
way she had completely transformed her mannerisms and physicality. Some
may have felt her performance bordered on stereotype but then again,
all stereotypes are based ultimately on some truth and I felt that Chen
managed to tap into that truth for her performance. While the play started
out a little shaky as both actresses took some time to find their rhythm,
once the momentum started building, I was totally lost in their performances.
The climax of the play, which involved an extremely aggressive and violent
scene between the two women, filled me with a surge of emotion. It was
a truly cathartic experience: the actresses had amazing chemistry together
and were completely in the moment; they were angry, confused, hurting,
loving and afraid, and they made me feel all of these things.
I left the theatre that evening emotionally drained - and deeply grateful
for all the love I have in my own life. |
"In the way it dealt with its subject matter, Yu's script always
came across as intelligent, sincere and respectful and never sensationalised"
Credits
Playwright: Ovidia Yu
Director: Samantha Scott-Blackhall
Lighting Designer: James Tan
Sound Designer: Jeffrey Yue
Producer: Ekachai Uekrongtham
Cast: Janice Koh, Serene Chen, Benjamin Ng, Loretta
Chen and Peggy Ferroa
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