FRESH cues for the CLASSICS

At Singapore Arts Festival, Tadashi Suzuki’s “Electra” electrifies, but Lin Zhaohua’s “The Cherry Orchard” isn’t so ripe. 

In this day and age of artistic innovation, in which countless new works and genres are constantly created, many theatre artists are still revisiting classic plays and reinterpreting them. Lucky us.

Earlier this month I intentionally planned my trip to Shanghai so that it included a seven-hour evening layover in Singapore. This is not due to the Great Singapore Sale (GSS) though, but because the Singapore Arts Festival (SAF) was presenting the Suzuki Company of Toga’s (SCOT) “Electra” at the Victoria Theatre.

One of the most highly acclaimed Asian theatre directors, Japanese master Tadashi Suzuki, now in his 70s, has developed a world-renowned actor training system, highly physical and deeply rooted in Noh theatre yet easily applicable to any modern productions. This has not only been adopted by many acting schools all over the globe, but also inspired American director Anne Bogart’s “Viewpoints”, one of the most widely-used stage acting and directing methodologies today.

In his vision of Euripedes’s two-millennia-old revenge tragedy penned by Euripedes, Suzuki set the play in a mental hospital, as he did many of his previous adaptations of Greek and Shakespearean tragedies. A chorus of five bare-chested men entered in wheel-chairs, circled center stage area, occasionally stomping their feet (Suzuki’s signature movements) before settled behind five tables where their meals were set out, stage right.

The female choruses, in nurse uniforms, ushered in the main characters, most of them also in wheel-chairs. As in ancient Greek theatre tradition, while the main characters entered and exited after their scenes, the choruses remained on stage—observing, reacting, as well as commenting on the action.

While the play was performed in both Japanese and Korean, corresponding to the two nationalities of actors, “Electra” was one of those rare foreign-language works whose stage actions were so engaging and fulfilling that sometimes you didn’t want to miss anything by glancing up to read the projected English translation.

Other compelling elements were the live music, composed and performed on traditional instruments by Midori Takada, always present at stage left. It accentuated the contrast of silence and violence, the thin line between sanity and insanity, as well as heightened the ritualistic quality of the performance, again, like in ancient Greek theatre. Stark contrasts among characters were created by Orie Horiuchi’s costume design as well as the eeriness of Suzuki’s own set and lighting designs.

On my way back from Shanghai, and having passed their intensive temperature screening there, I returned to the Esplanade Theatre to see “The Cherry Orchard” by Lin Zhaohua Theatre Studio’s, China’s longest running independent theatre troupe from Beijing, which was in Shanghai a week before I arrived.

Director Lin Zhaohua’s vision of Anton Chekhov’s work was a visual triumph, marked by the almost monochrome, fragile-looking set design that covered the whole stage on all sides, and helped lowering the ceiling of the otherwise tall proscenium stage frame.

Corresponding to this was were the tones of costumes and lighting, most remarkably the use of footlights and side lights to illuminate the fragile nature of the characters many of whom lived in illusions and to show their continuous fall in the world of changing realities as the play progressed.

Like “Electra”, when all the elements combined, the play transcended cultural and national boundaries, and should not be referred to merely as a contemporary Chinese production of an early twentieth century Russian play.

However, this Chekhov play had the same problem as its many predecessors: so much dull talk rich bureaucrats on the verge of economic and social decline that it frequently lost the attention of today’s audiences. Unlike “Electra”, unfortunately, we relied on the surtitles more than the performance.

This was notwithstanding the immaculate stage visuals and the relatively young cast members’ energy and credibility in portraying characters much older than their ages. Among them, Jiang Wenli, who had garnered awards from her film and television work, was the most outstanding as the protagonist Lubov Andreyevna Ranevsky.

Noticeably, unlike many other performances at SAF which were sold out, the house was less than half filled. Maybe it’s because Chekhov isn’t as light-hearted as other performances at this year’s festival, or because it was in Mandarin, and most audiences would have to read the English and Cantonese surtitles.

Of course, the success of any arts festivals does not lie just in the audience size, but also the artistic and aesthetic challenges for the audiences as well.

Bangkok theater-goers can now look forward to September, when visionary director Kriengsak Silakong collaborates with choreographer Jitti Chompee in another reinterpretation of the European classic “Carmen” at the Alliance Francaise Auditorium.

The writer wishes to thank National Arts Council’s Sharon Cheong, Chia I-Ling, and Reeta Raman for their assistance.