最紧要好玩

第二次出席十指帮《大狗民》演出时，剧场外碰见的朋友看见我就劈头一句：你不是看过了吗？

第一回观看的票是朋友送的。看了之后觉得应该买票支持（听说票房不理想；后来听说今年本地剧场的演出票房普遍不理想），真正的原因是好久没看到一部感觉上创作团队放手玩到尽的演出。

那种兴头可以从舞台一路传染到观众席。

近年来看了许多创作概念、理念独特新颖的剧作，但往往在表演上琢痕确凿、用力过度，看得观众常常用脑过于用心。

《大狗民》虽然由钟达成和刘晓义联合执笔，但从角色的选择与构思（集各地华人的典型化和人性化）、无厘头笑点（如父子对月亮位置的轮次相互更正，或土管局官员仓皇逃走后又不忘回头来取回奉为圭臬的官文）、演员风格和角色的高度切合性，到使用各地华人腔调说半文言台词等，都像是一群演员常常聚在一起酒过三巡后用酒话即兴和脑风暴出来的景观。

不论观众在戏后是否要思考《大狗民》如何（或有否）通过《聊斋志异》借古喻今，或只是让产生的情绪缠绕心间，都是一次超强的观戏体验。如黄泽晖设计的音效中不时不期然出现的潮浪声，既像是人物澎湃的心声，又像是一群凡夫俗子汲汲营营当儿消耗掉的时光。

能有这样创作过程的组合，应该是幸福的。

能有这样观戏经验的观众，也是幸福的。

The Invisibility Of Text

Though I have long accepted and taken the view that light design and text script are two very different mediums of narrative, I still found myself during first 10 minutes or so of Woan Wen’s In/Visibility 看／不见 trying to associate her light changes to specific parts of the original play. 

I guess I wouldn’t be the only audience (those who had watched or read Quah Sy Ren’s Invisibility, and may have come to Woan Wen’s solo show because of the script) falling into this habit.

In a casual chat after the show, Woan Wen revealed that she did initially consider including the text of the script as an element in this show, as she took into consideration of the mission of venue sponsor, Centre 42, in promoting written work. It was after discussion with Centre 42’s executive director, Casey Lim, that she freed herself from that sense of obligation. (On Centre 42’s The Vault programme website: The Centre invites artists and practitioners to respond critically and personally to canonical Singapore classics, lesser known pieces and rarities, reworks and adaptations, and cross-cultural and cross-genres works. )

I want to applaud Centre 42 and Casey for such openness towards written work. Words, written or spoken, has always been a heavily relied-on medium of expression and communication that we have become insecure towards other sensory experience. We have become lost many times in performances with little or no words. Words have such contradictory power in both liberating and imprisoning our imaginations.

As I tossed away my futile attempts of associating the light changes to the written text, new journey began. In the small theatre of Centre 42, 10 audience would decide where they sat or stood, or to move about throughout the entire performance. As the light changes, audience would be shone on or not. One could decide if he/she want to stay in the light, move out of the light, or partially lit on. One could choose to observe the space/audience in the light, or peep into those in the shades. As we felt the light falling onto us, did we become more conscious of our body/facial expression? As the light changes the pattern of shades inside the theatre, which ones lured us into, or out of the light? Do we have an active or passive relationship with the light?

I believe there is a protagonist A (of Invisibility) inside each of us, who wants to learn from a hermit the craft of invisibility, and stay unseen. Sometimes. Just sometimes.

In/Visibility 看／不见 gave me a journey of Invisibility without a visible word.