Private Eyes | รัก (ทะ) ลวงตา

Private Eyes, adapted for Thai theatre-goers from the original script by Steven Dietz, had its premiere yesterday. The translator and director, Pawit Mahasarinand, also took a role in the play, which aims to make the viewers confused and question the thin line between fiction and reality. Not only does the main actors, Nophand Boonyai and Dujdao Vadhanapakorn, retain their real names throughout the play, the situation is made more complex with them playing the roles of actors. In a sense, this play can be labelled 'metafiction', as it's a work of art that discusses its own fictive status, something that is not totally unheard of in the theatre scene. However, the cast of only five characters does bring freshness to this postmodern structure with the same characters taking different functions in different layers of Chinese-box reality.

Love figures prominently, as the whole play deals with the issues of trust and faith. Scenarios are repeated, though not with precision, only to be revealed later as possibilities in dreams, instigated by either fear or desire. However, even though the play is complex, its complexity is not there just to mesmerize the viewers, but indeed to portray the increasingly distorted mind of a man who believes that his lover has an affair with a director.

Nothing can be trusted in this play, as it revels in its own self-reflexivity and fictive status. Even the psychoanalyst, who is supposed to be a reliable voice of sanity giving 'objective' comments to the viewers, somehow cannot be trusted. What we have left here is our own attempt at understanding and our little faith, faith that what we're watching tells us something about life, even though we know only too well that the writer has a lot up his sleeves. Perhaps towards the end we are merged with the actor, whose last words are simply 'don't fool me' ...

More details of the play can be found here.

นางนากเดอะมิวเซียม | Nang Nak The Museum

Those who are Thai or live in Thailand for a certain period of time would more than likely know about the legend of Nang Nak of Phra Khanong, of how she died at childbirth and became a ghost waiting for her husband. Of course, her ghost is scary and well-revered by Thai people as her statue is propped up in Wat Mahabutr, nowadays reachable by BTS.

So it comes as no surprise that there should be a play that parodies the legend and exposes some prejudices that hide behind the powerful myth. Veteran director Damkueng Tithapiyasak manages to do so as well as add some humour to this play, making it one of the most funny plays in this year. So funny that the play has been restaged twice and I was one of the audience of the second restaging at the Makhampom Studio in Saphan Kwai.

The plotline is crisscrossed between the past and the present, beginning at the attempt of some people to make a film about Nang Nak. Their decision to invite a media to make the whole show more realistic creates a setback in which Nang Nak is called back to the present, pestering one of the staff whom she believes is her reincarnated husband. The premise is interesting in the sense that we see how Nang Nak tries to adapt and learn about Thailand at the present, such as the Skytrain, and Westernised commodities that litter the contemporary Bangkok landscape, as well as the redefinition of Nang Nak herself not as a scary ghost but a confused woman. Also, she needs to face the fact that her husband is no longer the same man but a modern man who is now seeing someone else.

As the story progresses, we start to see how the play touches on various prejudices that the myth seeks to hide. We start to realise how in the old days Nang Nak was maltreated by her husband and domestic violence was something so common that people didn't talk about it. We also learn how lonely Nang Nak was, waiting for her husband to come back. However, the play also acknowledges the role of gossips and rumours that makes the whole legend blurry and we are not so sure which part is fact and which is fiction, yet it cannot be denied that the power of the legend is firmly engraved on the mentality of Thai public.

The ending is ingenious as it turns out that the ghost of Nang Nak will only disappear if her reincarnated husband simply finds a new girlfriend and forgets her completely, thus re-emphasising the power of men who can dictate the life and death of women. Women, on the other hand, are dependent on men and live on their mercy. Nang Nak's resignation at the end is somehow not as important as the flippancy on her husband's part and the dominance of patriarchal codes that is very much latent in Thai society.

Water | Time

Written by Shogo Tanikawa and directed by Bhanbassa Dhubthien, Water | Time is currently being restaged due to popular demand. There are only three actors in this play: Sasithorn Panichnok, Shogo himself, and Apirak Chaipanha. Yet the audience were riveted to their seats for one hour and a half, mesmerised by the bittersweet relationship between Nam and Kenji, and A, a friend who tries to help this couple.

The problem is somehow commonplace: Kenji is an unhappy Japanese playwright, somewhat pressured by his previous works, while Nam (a Thai word for 'water') is a sweet Thai girl who is in love with Kenji. However, things are not as sweet as they expect, as Kenji finds his creativity blocked and cannot finish his latest script. Nam becomes the breadwinner and their love is understandably put on a strain. Their communication is somehow made more difficult by the languages they speak: both of them need to talk in English, a language to which neither of them are native. Frustration appears, as we can see that sometimes both Nam and Kenji resort to their native language to reveal their emotion and anxiety.

I think the play portrays to great effect the problems we face nowadays. Love in the city is indeed very difficult, but love between people from two different nationalities are even more difficult. The sad thing is we don't find these two characters -- Nam and Kenji -- evil or corrupt: they are good-intentioned, very much in love with each other, but somehow the urban society they live in requires too much from them. This can be seen in Kenji's stress, as he wishes to write better works, to achieve both financial and intellectual recognition at the same time.

However, what remains puzzling to most viewers is probably the climax scene when Kenji is preparing rice balls to Nam. I think the script could be improved if more hints are put as to what really happens to both characters. I understand that the playwright doesn't want to reveal too soon what really happens until right at the very end. But the hints are too few. If someone misses those hints, a lot of meaning will be lost.

But perhaps that's also the beauty of this play. Attention is needed if one wishes to understand. Attention is also needed in terms of time. Time is fluid and plays a crucial role in our imagination. Nam consciously dreams of the yonder days when her love with Kenji blossomed. Kenji, however, dreams of the future when Nam and he will visit the Fuji together. And of course the last scene when time is also a crucial factor for our understanding of the play, when the past becomes the present and vice versa. Time is indeed subjective.

I need to confess that I was myself puzzled a little bit right after the play, but the more I think about it, the more I want to see it again, at least to fill in missing gaps and ruptures. But somehow these are not meant to be filled.
Just like some moments in real relationships, these gaps and untranslated bits cannot be translated but can only be felt and imagined.

นางฟ้านิรนาม | Cocktail

Cocktail by Vince Licata and Ping Chong has been adapted into a Thai screenplay, entitled Anonymous Angel or Nangfah Nirnam. Directed by Dangkamol na Pombejra, the play revolves around the life of a Thai pharmaceutical scientist, Dr Krisna Kraisintu, who firmly believes that all lives are equal and therefore everyone, rich or poor, should be entitled to equal access to medicine.

The performance by the cast and crew from the Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University, remained strong in their first show to the public. Applause naturally went to Bhanbassa Dhubtien for her brilliant acting and pace, as she was able to hold the audience captive to her solid two-hour performance. Her acting remained serious in contrast to the intentionally absurd performance of other characters, thus making us question contemporary society we live in, where the sane are obviously the marginal.

My first impression after the performance was also how the crew managed to make use of all audio-visual gadgets to great effect, though at times synchronisation could present itself as a problem. Also evident was the contrast between red and yellow, something which probably was not in the original, but adapted to convey the director's own signature in this Thai rendition.

There's however one thing that I questioned, that whether it was fashionable in this day and age to create the flat portrayal of a character. We only see the good side of Dr Krisna in this play and it somehow makes me wonder whether some audience would find it too excessive, to the extent that it might become an unintentionally self-parody. Wouldn't it be better then to create a more complex Krisna, whose ambition is a double-edged sword that could make her personality both benign and monstrous at the same time? Of course, I don't mean that such a truly great and altruistic person cannot exist, but I question that person is as flawless as Dr Krisna in this play.

But at the end of the day, I couldn't help but marvel at the colossal figure Dr Krisna cuts for herself anyway. Flawless or not, Dr Krisna is a rare jewel in this corrupt world.

Wifi Project Version 2.0 | ไวไฟ 2.0

Today I had chance to go to the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre to watch the exhibition Krungthep 226. Coincidentally, I just saw a sign that there would also be a play called Wi-Fi Project Version 2.0 by the Saosoong theatre group. I was incredibly lucky as it was their last performance and I probably couldn't find it restaged anywhere else soon.

It was actually a collection of two short plays -- The Google Detective and Hi5...eiei. Both plays portray how our interactions with modern technology can be related to our redefinitions of love and romance, as well as cheating and lies. In a monologue manner and sometimes with multimedia interactions, each play was respectively led by theatre veterans, Damkueng Tithapiyasak and Janya Tanasawangkul.

The Google Detective is about a man looking for a romance on-line, only to be exposed to a rather sophisticated cyberworld where it is impossible to believe or to trust anyone. With a view to looking for love, the actor ends up being too cynical and engaging himself rather in finding out who his on-line friend is. Love is thus impossible and replaced with sex and paranoia.

While The Google Detective revels in its rather pessimistic tone of contemporary romance quest, Hi5...eiei starts off more cheerfully with an 'ab-baew' woman also looking for a romance on-line, only to find her long-lost friend looking to rekindle his romance with her. Full of hope and expectation, she gradually changes from her 'ab-baew' personality to a more 'human' one and moves away from the computer to her real life. However, when it transpires that her long-lost friend already has a girlfriend and is only interested in her as his temporary 'gig', she starts to retreat to the on-line community and sadly assume her 'ab-baew' persona on-line. I personally find this play rather touching, especially how the woman at the end smiles and talks childishly in her innocent guiles. It makes me understand that perhaps being the so-called 'ab-baew' can be just a shell for someone to protect his or her vulnerable self in such a terribly cruel on-line world where images and avatars are not to be trusted.

Having watched these mini-plays, I can't help but feeling rather happy as I have distanced myself from the on-line world in my post-cynicism era. I'm pleased to say that I don't have Hi5 or facebook accounts. I only have this blog and its Multiply mirror-site. So those of you who send me invitations, please stop. Let's meet in the real space if you can catch me.

Sunflower ดอกไม้ในแสงแดด

For those regular theatre-goers, the name of Nopphan Boonyai has been established as one of the most interesting new-wave directors. Sunflower, one of his most popular plays, became the talk of the town when it was first launched at the Crescent Moon Theatre at the beginning of this year. Due to popular demand, it is currently being restaged at the same venue until December 7.

There are just three characters in this play but the number should not blind us to the dynamic that their interaction creates. Nop is a good-looking guy who is simply unable to be committed in a relationship. Orn is a confident woman who falls in love with a photographer who is already married. Tawan works as a 'love doctor' giving comments to those people who have problems about love. However, he himself doesn't fare any better, waiting for his partner, a real doctor, who will never return.

The influence of Wong Kar Wai reinforces the themes of love, loneliness, and urban angst. It's like these three characters just come fresh out of Chungking Express, lost and yearning at the same time. The motifs of a mysterious woman with a golden wig, pineapple cans, and the bird without legs are present in order to bring home such feelings as unrequirted love and desire with no definite directions. In other words, it may be said that these characters resemble us in the modern days, afflicted with yearning and desire, and the conditions are worsened by the fact that our desire is not fulfilled or once it's fulfilled we are not satisfied and want to move on.

Perhaps, quite accurately, the play portrays our long-lasting problem with desire. On the one hand, we desire something we don't have, can't have, or no longer have, such as Nop who remains scarred by his first love, Orn who desperately wants the photographer's love, and Tawan who injures himself simply as a pretext to see his estranged boyfriend. On the other hand, we don't desire something we already have and unconsciously try to reject this state of bliss so that we can desire once more. This, perhaps, may be caused by boredom and the contemporary way of life that requires us to obtain the newest, the latest, and the most modern. This lifestyle pushes us to fly higher and higher, until we forget it feels like to stay on ground.

But the play doesn't choose to portray only the negative side of these dire conditions. Even though the three characters have their own spaces in each corner of the stage, there're always three stools at the centre waiting for them to return, to chat, to communicate, to make pretense, to show off, or simply to tell stories. This interaction is equated with the sense of friendship these three people have. Perhaps friends are, of course, vital and their presence is needed, even though we all know that deep down we have our own space where friends will not, or cannot, intrude. Perhaps this is all there is ... Perhaps this is all we can have.

The Message ลิขิตนาคา

While Thai politics is anything but stable, it's understandable that a growing number of people resort to escape from this stalemate and put their interest in something else altogether. Hence, I didn't spurn the opportunity when a ticket to watch The Message, a contemporary li-kay performance, was offered to me. Do I need to tell you that I rarely frequent a traditional Thai performance, let alone the li-kay, the narrative of which I found too predictable and lengthy.

Of course that perception has changed since I watched The Message or Likhit Naga in Thai the other evening at Lido Multiplex. The show was led by the Silpathorn winner Pradit Prasartthong, whose dance was obviously majestic. Part of the lyrics were made more up-to-date and with the use of such visual aid as the LCD projector the show was anything but obsolete. However, the traditional elements of li-kay remain, including improvisation, bling-bling costumes, and plots concerning divine or semi-divine entities.

The story involves a sojourn on earth by an underworld god -- a Naga called Malan. However, little does he know that his trip will endanger his life, as people on earth are ready to exploit him for various gains, including tourism and commerce. Of course, the ending is quite predictable with Malan getting angry wishing to castigate the earthlings by creating a big flood. Even though this plot sounds all too predictable for those regular li-kay watchers, one can't deny that it's also timeless and pretty much relevant to what's happening in Thailand at present. I only wish more people would turn up to watch this and learn something from it.

The performance is part of Bangkok Theatre Festival 2008. More details can be found here.

Prasadtaek ประสาทแตก

A new play from the Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University, Prasadtaek proves to be another quality rendition of contemporary urban angst and frustration that befall people nowadays, i.e. you and me and other people surrounding us. It consists of five mini-stories that are interconnected, revolving around the main protagonist whose madness slowly comes to surface.

The cast is superb and the audience is promised two hours full of fun and frolick. Of course, for those professional viewers, you might rather cry than laugh, as some of the jokes are created to parody the contemporary corruption of human intimacy. The poignant scene is the third story -- the office scene -- whereby office staff resemble automatons and their relationships are rather superficial and tend to progress into alienation and frustration. The more they talk, the more they reveal their fragility. Of course, their boss is such a tyrannical leader, but without his aid the shallow, defunct intimacy among office staff would have sufficed to turn them into psychopaths.

I think the play does great job in portraying the fragility of human emotion and relationship and everyone seems to be 'mad' in this play. But hey what is madness anyway and the play seems to suggest that it is part and parcel of our life if we choose to live in this less-than-ideal society, full of threats and insecurities.

I wouldn't spoil the plot with more details as the performance I watched was the first public one. But what I want to say is this: Prasadtaek is a play well worth watching for those of you who want to look at yourselves 'honestly' from another perspective. You might not find it a straightforward mirror that reflects your appearance, but it should be compared to a magic mirror that may distort or exaggerate some parts of yours. But it's still your reflection nonetheless.

Vatzlav 2007 สัต(ว์)บุรุษสุดขอบโลก

Despite my mad schedule full of bureaucratic shit, I still managed to find some time to watch a play. Well, let me admit that thanks to my sacred job as a brainwasher, they gave me free tickets to watch quality plays once in a while.

This time they chose to do a remake of Slawomir Mrozek's Vatzlav (or สัต(ว์)บุรุษสุดขอบโลก in Thai). It's another quality political satire that is somehow timeless and so true. Despite its original setting in Poland, this reinterpretation didn't seem out of place at all in Thailand.

(If you don't know anything about Thailand, here are some useless facts: Thailand is a small yet weird country in South East Asia, currently under the control of the army who don't understand aesthetics. Thailand is also a magical country where politicians or presidents come and go as easily as rain and sunshine. Thailand also sees the greatest quantity of constitutions (I think so far we have 18 of them.) Also, national holidays come and go. The nearest example was this Monday! The government suddenly proclaimed that the 20th of August must become a national holiday, to the delight of students and bureaucrats like me. Well, I couldn't complain, could I?

Like their rendition of Animal Farm, this play is kindly contextualised by the director and some of the scripts have been tailor-made to suit the Thai public's tendency for quick jokes and good puns. Our exiled prime minister is of course inevitably linked to Count Bat himself, who lived on the blood of poor people (well, what a poignant metaphor). Thank god they didn't try to find a square-faced person to take this role, as in Animal Farm. Of course, poetic justice rules as Count Bat is brought to pay for his cruelty.

Quite touching is the figure of Oedipus, who tries to uphold the moral code, yet ends up being beaten and gang-raped in a carnivalesque ending by military-like tribal people (or tribe-like military people, if there's any difference). The usurpation of the whole island by the military at the end, I'm sure, would cause chest pain for many viewers.

What I gained from this play are as follows:

(1) desire is good -- the example is Countess Bat, who falls in love with a bear, of course as long as your desire doesn't violate other people's rights;

(2) desire is natural -- those of us who repudiate desire are terrible and cruel, lacking in good taste;

(3) desire is human -- without desire, you cannot be labelled human;

(4) desire is necessary -- it's normal for all of us to want something, to need something, because it's the human condition.

Hmmm ... I reckon we're treading into the sphere of freedom-loving, pro-West ideology once again.

This positive view of desire is crucial to the understanding of the play, as its central meaning rests on the conflict between justice and desire, as it were. Justine, the personified character of Justice, is represented as an innocent, beautiful yet idiotic woman. Due to her symbolism, she's portrayed to be too angelic, too clean to reside in this 'shitty' earth. The earth, by contrast, is rather the carnivalesque space full of activities, both benign and malign, but one sees the desire machine at work behind the 'progress' of humanity.

I wouldn't dare say more, otherwise you might blame me for spoiling the ending and stuff, but some part of the play do touch upon a very sensitive topic, especially the figure of Genius. I don't know whether it's intentional or perhaps it's my misunderstanding. But somehow signs and symbols can be reinterpreted, abused, and exploited to serve various ideologies.

This is once again a fragmentary review of the play, which I rather keep to myself. Those of you who read this review in secret please go to see the play for yourself. It's really thought-provoking and funny. (Most of the people laughed, especially towards the ending, but I on the other hand found it really deeply tragic and shocking -- as it's so true ... too true I think I'd rather stop here.

The Tempest Retold พายุพิโรธ

This evening I just had a chance to watch a remake of Shakespeare's The Tempest or Payu Pirote at the Faculty of Arts Theatre in Building 4. It's the last one before the building is demolished to make way for a new state-of-the-art faculty building where there will be a new theatre, a jazz lounge, three swimming pools, a helicopter pad ... oops sorry I got too carried away!

The play was well-performed by a good cast. Though they're young, I was rather surprised at their ability to memorise those difficult, lengthy poetical lines of the Bard. (This sadly also means that I'm getting old and such a kind of memory is something I really long for.) Of course the verse has been translated into beautiful Thai, but I do wonder whether it would've been easier in English. Well, call be a snob but at some points in the play the profusion of beautiful Thai verse was a bit too fast and overwhelming. Maybe I was too used to cheap Thai soap opera and basically am in need of high-quality performance once in a while to cleanse my eyes and ears of filthy things they emit nowadays out of Thai television.

The setting was marvellous and I did love the fact that they did play with the concept of space. I sat by the side of the theatre and was able to be close to some characters. The room at the back became another part of the set, thus making the audience feel like they're stranded like the cast. I quite liked this philosophy and somehow felt like I was in a 3-D cinema where they had all sorts of equipments, like water spurting out and cold breeze blowing behind, to make you feel like you were actually in the scene where all this happened. (Mat and I went to a cinema of this kind once -- it was in the Paragon, next to the aquarium).

I really liked the guy who played Caliban. Whenever he appeared on stage, his witty and natural performance eclipsed other characters around him, even Prospero, who seemed a bit too stern and, with his sleeves a bit too long, looked more like a boy band singer than an island entrepreneur. But don't take me wrong -- I DO admire Prospero, his perfect memory, and his powerful voice, all these making him a rising star in future Thai theatre. But, to my opinion, it seemed like the guy who played Caliban looked like he was born for the role and his funny action didn't look forced at all.

The costumes were also good and pretty experimental. I loved Ariel's costume with inset lights. I really liked it when the whole theatre was dark and all I saw was just these lights from her costume, making me feel like I was at the bottom of the ocean. So hauntingly beautiful and scary at the same time!

The end of the play did drive home those messages the Bard tries to get across. Maybe what we need now is forgiveness and for Prospero it is a magnificent act. I didn't have trouble understanding this when I first read the play a long while ago. But watching the play once again this evening made me doubt. How could Shakespeare make Prospero change his mind so quickly it did make The Tempest a bit of an escape? Or maybe I've become too pessimistic to believe that people could reach such a state of epiphany and become benevolent? Or maybe I'm not that old enough to understand such act of kindness? Or maybe I'm just too evil? I think the last one is right ... :)

Anyway, that's nothing to do with the play. It's just my own reflections upon what the Bard tries to get at. The remake itself was overall beautifully rendered and those who appreciate the Bard's work shouldn't miss it at all, as the beautiful Thai translation of the verse has kept all these artistic merits intact. The music also complemented all this nicely. A thumb up from me! (But who am I to give this sort of opinion? This is clearly a gesture of a man who is so sure of himself and think of himself as an important critic. So I'd better put my thumb back and become humble once again ...)

For more details of the play, visit their official website.