Peter Cat blogs

RASHOMON A SUSPENSE THRILLER

more on youtube.

First comes the novel.

Written by Ryunosuke Akutagawa, famously regarded as the ‘Father of Japanes Short Stories’, Rashomon is a classic tale on the subjectivity of truth via perspectives, and raise big questions on issues like justice and whether a singular truth can exist meaningfully. (coins the term ‘Rashomon effect’)

A short intro:

A bandit, woken by a breeze while napping in the bamboo grove caught sight of a travelling Samurai and his wife decided to have the woman.  The subsequent strings of events deviated depending on who’s reporting the so-called facts.

The Film:

The black-and-white film version won numerous awards, including the Academy Honorary Award for Akira Kurosawa. The Samurai, killed in the bamboo grove gave his testimony via the medium, which directly contradicted what the wife and the bandit said. The deeper irony lies not so much in who kills the samurai but why everyone is admitting to the killing!

On stage:

The stage adaptation put forth by The Theatre Practice’s Kuo Jing Hong capitalises on her strength as a movement based artist, though critiqued by many as been slow paced. It is nevertheless one of the most visually stunning piece of theatre I have seen in a while.

The mis-en-scene is smashingly stunning. i actually do believe that i am caught within the webs of a murder mystery occuring in a bamboo forest with glimpses of the various perspectives of a heinous crime. The marriage of the sounds, lights and sets is mesmerising and completed, in my opinion, all the imagination necessary to steep oneself into the drama, leaving one’s emotional and mental faculties free to indulge in the drama so poignant and heightened by the deliberate slowness, peppered occasionally by lines that exist solely to propel the plot forward. Without words to redeem them, the actors have to tap deeper within to deliver a drama that can transcend languages.

On a whole, Rashomon delivers visually and asethetically. It is pretty enough to please the eyes and deep enough to satisfy my personal demand on theatre. Having listened to sounds rather than words can be rather tiring but blabbers can become noise. Here, every single word counts. The audience members drink them all in. There are parts between the Medium and the Woodcutter that is composed solely of movements and gutteral sounds which is strange to me, and remains inconclusive.

No one’s better at making the ‘important’ people look bad, guilty and stupid… cant wait to watch it…

http://www.screendaily.com/festivals/venice/capitalism-a-love-story/5005301.article

Inspired by Cao Xue Qin’s A Dream of the Red Chamber, the Crabflower Club is set in a noble Qing household surrounding the 5 female protagonists oblivious to the country in tatters, fussing over the Patriarch’s pending 60th birthday, preparing a crab feast, hence the name of the secret poetry club.

The intelligent, overfed and repressed women met nightly leading to the feast to compose poetry in the kitchen, exchanging gossips and confessing their unhappiness over unfaithful, heartless men masquerading as husbands, while the lasses bored and hyper-inquisitive sought the picture-perfect romance in novels, seeking to meet men under the veil of moonlight.

Though the play is sufficiently entertaining, with witty dialogues and ostentatious costumes and setting, I felt that it would be more satisfactory if the ending does not taper off abruptly.

i am not dexterous when it comes to following what’s fashionable. i am into flea markets, retro dance clubs, old book stores, old towns, and older people. There is a certain sophistication, a darkness, an edge that draws me in. Two years after the film, I find myself strangely attached to both the book and the movie- The Jane Austen Book Club..

Here’s a song in the soundtrack that I adore: (you probably have heard this song in AMELIE (below) which incidentally makes the top 10 of my all-time favourite movies list)

lyrics….

You look like a perfect fit
For a girl in need of a tourniquet

But can you save me
Come on and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

‘Cause I can tell
You know what it’s like
The long farewell of the hunger strike

But can you save me
Come on and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

You struck me dumb like radium
Like Peter Pan or Superman

You will come to save me
C’mon and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone
‘Cept the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone
But the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

C’mon and save me
Why don’t you save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

Except the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone
Except the freaks who could never love anyone

The graduating class of  TTRP (Theatre Training & Research Programme) founded by the late Mr. Kuo Pao Kun put up a multilingual play by the name of SPIRITS PLAY at NAFA, and I was fortunate enough to get a ticket to the gala perfomance complete with a light buffet and wine!

In the black box theatre, the set was constructed of five planks of white panels elevated and leading away from a small circular stage into shrouded enclosures of leaves, simulating trees. The setup and movements reminds me of Japanese Noh and Kabuki traditions which is more symbolic than realistic.  There were numerous prior stagings of this classic, from Kuo Pao Kun, Stan Lai to Ong Ken Seng’s. Naturally there would be much expectation of this particular performance. Also, the graduating class is comprised of theatre veterans from many different countries.

I was preoccupied by the multilingual aspect.

How would it act out? Would it play into the multi-lingual/racial theme of the nation’s propaganda? When the play started, the five actors/actresses each speaking a different language (Cantonese, English, Spanish and a Taiwanese dialect? ) was disruptive but slowly as the plot deepens, aided greatly by their skilful acting and strong enunciation of the script, together with the available surtitles, language barriers did start to melt away. Deeper universal themes emerge, like suffering and the pain of loss and the brutality of human nature that transcends borders. Five spirits, wandering spirits met in limbo each recalling its tragic story….

The General - his insatiable ambition and Machiavellian world view
The Soldier- like millions of others, deceived by their leaders, sacrificed
Mother- loss of family, husband, children, there is no role for family in wars other than to conceive more soldiers for sacrifice
Girl- raped, innocence robbed to provide comfort to soldiers marching to their deaths
Poet- he embodies memory but refusing to lie to propagate the war, caused him his life

Slowly the stories fused into a unison whole, interwining, victor and victim in tandem…cyclical

This production evokes painful memories of the Pacific War, celebrates the truth of oral history over documented well-conceived and dramatised lies. One lone figure shrouded in green make gutteral sounds uttered a few words in Japanese, embodies the guilt of the initial victorious, his half painted face denotes the horror of Hiroshima where some sort of justice was delivered. We are reminded there is no honour in war. There is only death, deceit and suffering. More importantly, the importance of the memory of the people, written, spoken, performed, remembered…

For a title so titillating, the delivery of this provocative piece of writing is suprising bland.

3 young men and the girl from 881 starred in this production. Butt-checks peeking out from the beige body-suit, provocative sexual positions..with whips, ropes, a pistol, cybersex, hokkien vulgarities, sexual innunedos in every other sentence… In a show that juices the rating for all it is worth, it is abhorrent that I was bored, but I was.

Gay boys, confused boys, sexual boys screaming vulgarities at one another, picking fights, taking drugs, indulging in sex.. this is a generation where the boundaries of one’s sexual identity bulges. With a lot more freedom in a society that maintains moral elasticity behind a pious and stiff facade, i feel that i am taken on a joyride into the physically and emotionally landscape of the pink legion. When the play draws a boundary between the boys’ psyche and the society at large, the setting became mellow, indulgent and audience members are given a visual treat of boys’ secret lives. When the outer world crashes into this psychedelic fantasy world where body fluids flow in abundance, such as the police intrusion, the mother’s witnessing her son engaging in homosexual acts, this world of crumbles.

What I find somewhat offensive is the play’s use of the Buddhist’s Heart Sutra so callously, its function incidental without attempting to explain or dwell deeper into the religious juxtaposition with the world of the ’sinners’. The play would hardly be very different without this religious element.

In the end, this play only serves to reinforces the stereotype that homosexuals are sexually depraved. The element of the wandering spirit who is unwilling to forgive his mother even in his death appears to cement the playwright’s conviction that the 2 worlds should remain parallel to be functional.

Audrey is one of the first to be married, Eileen one of the last TS wedding I reckon I will be attending. Many of them will either embrace singlehood or will have to wait until Section 377A of the Penal Code is abolished.
Others not in the picture are Callie Wong and Tiffany Wee

My TS classmates! Rajee Subramaniam (now Rajee Henderson) resides in Australia, Audrey Tok (now Audrey Pang) is my neighbour, Bavani Shanmuganathen resides in Sudan and Loretta Tan (sister of Chen Zicai) was my neighbour! Pict taken in the ladies room in Hilton.

Of cos we made too much noise! We ‘bumped’ into one another in the toilet, already fashionably late. Stories and pleasantries were exchanged while I snapped away.

 
The food is fantastic, though I wouldnt choose a venue where the floor is shared by 2 weddings. Plenty of alcohol, laughters and food esp with the girls disappearing too often for smoke breaks. Gone were the days in college where I used to contemplate life with one in hand.

The lovely couple had all their good friends on stage for speeches, basically it was sweetness all around, including my favourite dessert at the end of the dinner.

Marriage love shouldnt be burdened with too much expectations, in my opinion. We cross our fingers, becoming legally entangled having given our hearts away and have the rings on the fourth finger constantly to remind us of our promises. A dessert too sweet leaves one thirsty, a wedding too blithe leaves one feeling blight. But that’s just me.

‘It’s about a psychotic breakdown and what happens to a person’s mind when the barriers which distinguish between reality and different forms of imagination completely disappeared, so that you no longer know the difference between your waking life and your dream life. And also you no longer know where you stop, and the world starts.‘ (Sarah Kane)

In every aspect, this is a difficult play to do. The text is deep, sanity and madness follows in tandem; and the spurs of humour, black. The subject matter, the most obvious being suicide is a taboo to talk about, much less to dwell into and to analyse. How does one stage a play penned by a woman who killed herself? How does one do it justice, without either sensationalising it with bleakness or to overcompensate by overemphasising on the pockets of hopefulness? One who walks into such a production cannot expect to be entertained. It never plans to amuse, nor is it made for enjoyment.

Many a times, I cant feel the connection with the character in the script as i felt Jing trying to steep herself in madness, is feebly trying. Trained in physical theatre, emoting a woman in pain on her face and in her voice falls short at times, creating a distance, a gulf that removes the audience from the apt black box setting. Lighting creates an ominous mood that syncs well. The sound effects however appears too jarring. Seeking an experience into psychosis is not an easy ride. I wince, I flinch, I edge deeper into my seats and dig my fingers into the fabrics of the seats and wish for it to end, not that I didnt like the performance but there are moments so real I was convinced I am seeing Jing in her most wretched self. I cannot look away.

Despite parts that are simply inaccessible, I find it impossible not to applaud the genuine effort and craft of the performance. This is a rare piece of literary work that lays bare one’s wound for the world to scrutinise.

Be kind.

By The Theatre Practice
Performed by Kuo Jing Hong in the Drama Centre Black Box
16-26 July 2009

everytime we drive by, there is always a long queue for the famous PUNGGOL NASI LEMAK so we decide to try it

There is even a yellow box on the floor

The Nasi Lemak costs $6.70, a tad expensive. I prefer the version sold at Golden Shoe Carpark.

and we wash it down with durians (3 costing $40).
They are absolutely scrumptious! The flesh is milky and thick, with a hint of bitter in the sweet, the kind you can tear the flesh off the seed and be sent right off to food ecstasy…