Reviews
2004 production
The Straight Times
Noh man's land
The Waterstation / Theatre Training and Research Programme.
Clarissa Oon
September, 2004
There were rings of sand on the floor, the patterns seemingly formed by an invisible broom in some cosmic Zen garden. Then, there was the ramp, cutting across the length of the stage leading to a tap of running water in teh centre, and a heap of junk furniture to one side. It was in this no man's land, a cross between the spartan, serene stage of Noh theatre and the beckettian wasteland, theat the Theatre Training and Research Programme's (TTRP) version of The Water Station unfolded. This was a wordless, two-hour-long tone poem whose silent chords struck notes of exile, loss and fraying endurance.
Conceived by Japanese playwright Ota Shogo and first performed in Japan in 1981 the pece was structured on the riff of eternal recurrence, or repetition with difference. To the water station - an oasis of sorts for thirsty sojourners - came travellers in pairs, solo or in a group, laden with suitcases, bags and invisible ghosts. No melodramatic dumb show full of the twitching exesses of Marcel Marceau - wannabees, each sequence in The Water Steation told its own story through stillnes and the most distilled of movements.
The 18 interenational performers - mainly students, graduates or associates of the TTRP - came from countries as diverse as Poland, Japan, Singapore and India. TTRP is a Singapore based theatre school founded by the late theatre practioneer Kuo Pao Kun.
As directed by American Phillip Zarrilli, however, each performer in the show shed his name, cultural marker and actorly ego.
Voices silenced, their bodies were subsumed into the chamber piece, which in turn became an exercise in quietude and discipline for the 200 strong audience. Perhaps deliberately some sequences were oblique, the minutiae of gestures giving the crowd only the barest of physical and emotional cues.
There was the girl in a white pinafore, clutching a faceless ragdoll, who treaded slowly through the space, stopped several times, and after drinking from the tap,stared ahead with an expression of inscrutable regret.
Elsewhere, the emotions felt frighteningly raw, such as in the slowmotion fandango of almost unbearable lust and violence between a couple pushing a baby carriage filled with their belongings.
Compared to the 1998 Singapor Festival Or Arts staging of the Water Station by Ota Shogo's own company, TTRP's two-hour version felt less of a theartrical tour de force, with the energy level of some performers sagging in parts.
Still, by and large, it was a work of admireable control and purpose, one which showcased the growing maturity and gravitas of the four-year-old programme.
NOT A DROP TO SPARE
Matthew Lvon
Octobre, 2004
THE WATER STATION is the first of a trilogy of critically acclaimed plays by Ota Shogo exploring Man's interaction with the elements. Having had the privilege to watch the Earth Station and Wind Station, I must say that I find The WATER STATION the most hypnotic of the three. I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps water commands our attention because of its nourishing, life-giving properties. Antoine de Saint Exupery, author of the Little Prince, once wrote that water "has no taste, no colour, no odour; it cannot be defined, art relished while ever mysterious. Not necessary to life, but rather life itself. It fills us with a gratification that exceeds the delight of the senses. "
In THE WATER STATION, a single tap of running water becomes a focal point for traveller after traveller to stop, rest and replenish. No words are spoken but the characters communicate their personal histories to us through their costumes, their gait, their interaction with each other and with the water. Physical movements slow down almost to a whisper. This is theatre reduced to its bare essence, so that every sidelong glance is magnified and every prop teils a story. An old shoe is worthy of a pause, a baby's bottle draws tears that tell of sacrifice. Baskets of junk and family laundry bandied about like banners, are set aside as the travellers stop to drink, wash, bathe and even brush their teeth. Silently the characters share with us their most routine and intimate cleansing rituals. The programme quotes Ota Shogo as having said of his play, "There are words here. You just can't hear them."
Each actor has only several minutes on stage to convey a lifetime, and the intensity and concentration of the performance makes his task an unenviable one. This is a performance that relies very heavily on the actor to give it texture and the graduating students from the Theatre Training and Research Programme (TTRP) do an exceptional job. There were 17 actors in total, and the roles were unnamed, but some faces stood out. Jeungsook Yoo turned in a piercing performance communicating all the sharp pain of a disillusioned young girl, her eyes slowly welling up with tears, a faceless doll hanging limply by her side. Melissa Leung did a fascinating job playing a woman seeking shelter with a tiny parasol from gusts of wind that made her teeter perilously close to the edge.
The crew have designed a lovely set that cascades across from top stage right to bottom stage left effectively expanding the stage space within which the characters interact. Hella Chan adds volumes to the characters through weatherbeaten costumes that speak like wrinkles of the tribulations of life. Director Philip Zarilli does a wonderful job in creating a diverse tapestry of mood, through music and the careful stitching together of the entrances and exits of each character. My one grouse is that occasionally I found the music somewhat overpowering, intruding at times on the silences and spaces for contemplation and reflection.
But this is a minor complaint for what was on the whole an unmistakeable triumph for TTRP, and a deep, intense and fulfilling night of theatre.
1998 production
“This production … is a winner. It is visually beautiful … [T]he actors’ movements make a visual poem…”
Debra Neff, The Capital Times, Nov. 16, 1998
“According to the standards of contemporary entertainment, nothing happens in [The Water Station] at all, but really Shogo breaks drama down, maybe to its most basic elements. So we become systematically sensitized by the slow movements of the actors until we are waiting with rapt attention for, say Man A to just get down the ramp to the water faucet and to reach in for a drink of water.
If drama can be defined as waiting for something to happen, then a lot happens in The Water Station.”
Linda Falkenstein, Isthmus, Nov. 20, 1998
“The Water Station makes the audience notice the intricacies happening on the stage …
Small movements and emotions which easily could have been forgotten in a ‘real-life-tempo’ play, become grand and gorgeous in their simplicity—for example, the way the water falls from a hand into a basin, with light illuminating each drop…[A]ll the acting is excellent, as all the characters blend together into a montage of short stories…”
Gregory Reed, The Daily Cardinal, Nov. 23, 1998
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