Dropping Jetsam from a Boat
Commissioned by the Poetry Festival Singapore 2018, Benches is billed as a “poetic play”. The programme booklet even goes as far as defining ‘poetry’ and ‘play’ for the uninitiated. For all its hard selling, this work is at least a sincere and lively collection of poems penned by Ranice Tay and shaped by director Giovanni Ortega.
Despite its good intentions, Benches needs a little more time on the floor so the text, and the actors, can be free of needless pretensions.
Benches tells the story of Feng Yan, played by Tay, in search of her identity. A return to the park frequented by her and her late grandfather, played by Ortega, brings back memories of their time together.
The play opens with a poignant image: a gently lit Tay is wrapped in a dance, curling and unfurling like a flower falling to water. Her desire for flight is fettered by gravity, a pensive reflection of the difficulties of letting go.
Stories of their relationship are interspliced with flashbacks and flashforwards, to show the cycles of time. However, it is unclear who exactly is speaking, and at which point in their lives the speeches are spoken. The poetry, though earnest and striking, suffers a few awkward metaphors and a corny romantic run-in by an older Feng Yan.
From playing with a bright pink balloon, to dancing to Little White Boat, Tay and Ortega share an endearing chemistry. Tay is strong in movement and plays a young Feng Yan with great energy. It is delightful to watch her subtly twitch with childish restlessness and curiosity. But while she is in her comfort zone playing the child, she struggles with vocal delivery, often over-stressing and under-enunciating.
Ortega’s crisp speech, on the other hand, sounds less trying. A personal favourite is his soothing ode to the trusty, titular bench. Nevertheless, between this tune and multiple renditions of Little White Boat, it is one too many songs, especially with Tay’s final, but shaky singing.
In the more subdued moments, one gets the feeling that Tay is trying to convey emotions through her sweeping gestures. It hampers her clarity of speech and feels superfluous. The indulgence seems to pays off though – she emerges teary-eyed and pitiable at the end of her lament.
Sadly, the moment is brief and the tears feel like a cop-out for sluggish directing by Ortega. The use of space is indecisive and an extra black box downstage is barely used and remains obstructive.
Admittedly, beyond a patchy exterior, this “poetic play” has something heartfelt to say: every loss will come back in another form.
If only the play’s own excesses can be dropped, this reviewer suspects that the poetry can stand better, undistracted.