Ghost in the Machine
Political satire can find itself trapped very much within its particular context and the script shows its age despite additions by director Lim.
I recall vaguely a time when it was extremely rare to see a play poking fun at the government. Political satire was practically unheard of on the local stage. Presentations of sexuality were prim and proper. Hip-grinding and groin-thrusting were the prerogative of international pop stars like Michael Jackson, and not something for local theatre directors to mess around with. Then, theatre became more outspoken. It suddenly became trendy to grouse openly about the "gahmen" and poke fun at stodgy civil servants. Suggestive scenes started to appear in plays.
Fast forward to the present day, with sex scenes and political commentary in so many local works. I had almost forgotten what theatre was like before.
It was with this lens that I approached The Lady of Soul and Her Ultimate S Machine, deemed by the NUS Theatre Studies Programme to be "one of Singapore's most political plays". Indeed, when it was written in 1991, it was banned because of its political messages, which were obvious references to Singapore.
While it was later approved under new censorship guidelines, the work never lost its sharp voice. In Lady of Soul, President's Scholar Derek (Daphne Boey) is a high ranking government official who is tasked to find the soul of the nation. His search spans the bureaucracy (through committees and sub-committees), consultations with a Minister (who is shallow and silly), and public feedback (from a communist, an arts activist, and a mamasan). The search eventually leads Derek to question the basis of his identity and his job. The play portrays Derek's civil servant colleagues as power-hungry and morally questionable, mocks government committees as being useless, and suggests that sex may be the answer to the search for the country's soul.
There is much to enjoy in this production by the graduating students from the NUS Theatre Studies Programme. This is a spunky class project that showcases a pleasing variety of acting talents, ranging from Boey's sensitive treatment of the conflicted Derek, to Lim Wan Cheng's side-splitting interpretation of a vacuous Minister, to Jen Li Sheng's campy Geylang mamasan, Madame Soh. (I'm guessing that the gender-bending roles are partly artistically driven and partly practical, given the number of female students in the cast.)
The play's better moments are in its jibes at civil servants – an enduringly rich subject for satire, it seems. Clearly, the cast has a lot of fun with these scenes. The discussions between the two civil servants and the Minister are hilarious mockeries of bureaucratic inertia. The use of multimedia, powerpoint slides, and live singing (jazz and rap) for a meeting with the Minister are a spirited poke at the stodgy, obsequious civil service culture trying to be hip. (The rap owes a nod to the MDA video, perhaps.) Lim's portrayal of a mercurial Minister is particularly memorable: her gangland boss demeanour evokes a bullying, ultimately empty leader whose obnoxiousness transcends gender. Isaac Sim gives a well-balanced performance as the arts activist who tears down Derek's assumption that the government stands in a morally superior position than the public.
Unfortunately, the production's forays into conveying the deeper messages are less convincing, with some clunky scenes between the two main characters. The gay backstory between the two civil servants seems like an indulgent flourish in the first place. Given the relative rawness of the two actresses in the roles, who are awkward and stiff during those exchanges, this caused some cringing by the audience.
While many of the actors cannot yet measure up to the professionals in terms of emotional range and diction, for instance, they hold up their roles competently, abetted by director Casey Lim. By not over-analyzing the script and roles, the cast displays a naturalistic style that leaves the heavy messages of the script to speak for themselves. The result is a "take it or leave it" attitude that challenges the audience to think for themselves about the issues of identity and "soul".
Interestingly, many of the novel elements of the erstwhile-banned Lady of Soulare now more or less curiosities from a recently bygone era, either from having been recycled one too many times, or the subject matter having grown less relevant to the current context. Political satire can find itself trapped very much within its particular context and the script shows its age despite additions by director Lim. It is nice to see Section 377a of the Penal Code make a small cameo; but one wishes there was more of such efforts to maintain the script's impact.
I also have mixed feelings about the cruder scenes in Lady of Soul, with the aforementioned mamasan and the "S" machine itself – a roughly fashioned sex device. Yes, Jen's gender-bending Madame Soh is funny as hell, and yes, he livens up the audience, but his hammy portrayal is also a tad gratuitous. The Madame becomes a complete caricature, which detracts from her role as the speaker of moral truths that the civil service officials are blind to.
Notwithstanding these impediments, the sum result is a spunky, fun play that drives one to ponder the maturing of our arts scene and the historical significance of works like Lady of Soul, whose relevance can, and should be, enduring.