“There are more missed opportunities than there is play here. Like Helen’s favourite chicken and corn soup, it has chunks which are neither chicken nor corn.“ – Kate Stratford 3 /5 menu choices
There is a current movement in the arts to explore the spaces between; stories which tease apart those moments of transition and deconstruct what it means to live in these places and times. It is evident in art, dance, music and of course, theatre. A reflection of what is happening in our cultural canon.
The One, by Vanessa Bates is such a theatrical work; attempting to explore what it means to live in sibling relationships, in two cultures with uncertain identities. Mel (Angie Diaz) and Eric (Shan-Ree Tan), Eurasian siblings are both Australian and Malaysian, identifying with both and yet, paradoxically, not identifying with either. Memories of childhood are triggered by Jim’s Oriental Restaurant and Milk Bar- a transitional place for them which holds emotional associations of racism and abuse- and ballroom dancing. This set (Nick Fry) is an almost faithful recreation of the Chinese restaurants which were once such a feature of the suburban landscape of Australia and whilst its realism serves certain scenes well, it does not serve the other demands of the play. What begins as a sort of pro-am 1990s memory play then wanders over a wide variety of genres. Realism, comedy, farce, slapstick, absurdism, family drama, historical commentary, Verfremdungseffekt and musical theatre are all dished up, leaving a bemused audience uncertain of what it sat down for. If this banquet of styles is meant to be a metaphor for content and culture, it is confusing rather than clarifying.
Similarly, the script ranges over a plethora of important social issues and background information pieces, lightly dusting many but never fully cooking any, so there is no pay-off for the set-ups. Perhaps this failure to engage was meant as a reflection of the lives the central characters but there is a contract between a performance and an audience involving an alchemy of trust and expectation, and a play which ignores this does not live up to its commitment.
To range so broadly over issues and styles requires a very clear, precise vision. There was a strong sense of too many cooks here, as though the director’s vision (Darren Yap) may have undermined by various other inputs. It was a surprising turduckan from the masterful Yap – overstuffed and undercooked.
Nothing about the lives of the characters was organic. The many issues mentioned did not seem blended into their lives but sort of crammed in. A cast of five did their best to deliver. But it became clear that the text did not offer the chance for each to engage authentically and whilst some movement was nicely choreographed, other action seemed to be surfeit. Dinnerware was unpacked from boxes, put on a table then put on to a trolley. Much is implied by what a character does or does not do. To not move, to stand still, to not participate, makes a statement too. The set simply seemed at times to have props on it which served no other purpose than to give the actors something to do. Imposing action without meaning is a very last century thing and we need to trust the actors – creating and reacting is plenty to do. Damien Strouthos as Cal did some fine comedic slapstick work whilst Aileen Huynh did a Fawlty Towers waitress and of course Gabrielle Chan, such a well-known face, used all her talent to reconcile the opposing character delineations of Helen in Act 1 and Act 2.
As the two centre pieces, Diaz and Tan had great sibling chemistry. That one can “pass” and the other could not was handled by both with poignancy but again, this point between them was never resolved. They simply hug it out, a gesture which leaves the story and audience emotionally unsatiated. Diaz’s mastery of the physical gives a light, sure touch to her movement and her yearning to be the “one” her mother favours flavoured her delivery. Tan’s face perfectly mirrored his character’s inner thoughts and the challenging body language changes necessitated by Act 2 were handled with confident amusement. Tan is quite skilled at eliciting empathy from an audience. Ideal casting in all roles.
Who is the “one”- is it the one chosen by another? Or the “one” each person chooses to be? And what might that “one” look like? Be like? How does “one” fit in with both the family and society’s idea of us?
There are more missed opportunities than there is play here. Like Helen’s favourite chicken and corn soup, it has chunks which are neither chicken nor corn.
Kate Stratford, Theatre Now
