To think I’d given up regular writing ever since joining the production committee. I actually do not have too many reflections or any post-production syndrome. But I do want to get my writing momentum back yeah. It’s a great pity to have significantly put blogging aside in the past year. There had been blog worthy moments and topics but the thoughts just don’t come as naturally as they used to, for I had to channel my energy and whatever evil enigmatic aura into writing on the other side in another form. And some things once missed, are gone forever. Without recording on the go, days are as good as gone and empty. I am no longer young with a superb memory, able to recall my activities of every single day.
It just goes to show how much intensity goes into the generation of the scripts, and eventually the production of a complete performance. The final outcome wasn't perfect, but I had given my all without regrets. Fried every inch of myself physically, mentally and emotionally. It was a brutal process, and brutality without cuts or blood or wounds is an extremity. From initial brain storming to script call to scripts-writing to casting call to another round of scripts-writing to rehearsal planning to directing to stage + set + costume designing to photography to video making to cast training to technical cues to voice acting to makeup and hair, the areas on the stage side - you name it, I probably would have had a hand at it (mostly lah). It wasn’t too amazing to see how much I could have (now had) pushed myself to do. It was tiring. Imbalanced. Unhealthy. Things mostly just screamed of Siew Li, Siew Li and Siew Li, and probably only the closest could best understand what I was doing. Not that the shows were solely meant to be understood, a more important question would be: What’s the take-home message, if any? I guess I’ll never know, for I was the omniscient director, scriptwriter, narrator. As much as I wrote from an actor’s POV, directed from an audience’s POV; as much as I would give up ownership, there will not exist full understanding anywhere if people managed to understand anything, myself included. I am only an abstract, imaginary and theoretical actor that exists in the abyss of imageries; neither can I ever be an authentic audience with sole simple motive of watching a goddamn show.
Yes, I am speaking in abstract. Gotten pretty skillful at this throughout the entire production process. Sometimes I get confused, whether am I literally abstract, or being abstract literally. Perhaps both qualities exist at the same time. It’s ironic, paradoxical and weird altogether, but the contrast is pretty astonishing, albeit not exactly in a good way. Other than that, the most significant upside would probably be my improved standard of English, especially in the spoken aspect. I can now speak an entire sentence in angmoh without stuttering or slurring or stumbling over words. Improvement! Not as tiong anymore, being able to speak Mandarin like a local more intrinsically. Improvement!
Relationships wise in the stunt this time round, I can’t help but to compare it to past experiences. I shouldn’t have, because the time and contexts are entirely different, but it’s inevitable I suppose. I can only say that I don’t think I can meet another group of drama-mamas like the BJDHs. For one, the level of experience and passion is different; every single one of BJDH came from a tiny school club. For two, bonding is not to be coerced, and comes naturally as higher-level affinity. For three, changed and changing roles on my side. These aside, with the normalized starting line, my conclusion is: We really enjoyed working together, we shared mutual consent, trust, agreement, but we still went our separate ways then. No follow up on any side and it’s probably going, perhaps gone, as the stage lights went off for the final time. For without light there’s no space, without space there’s no actors… And etcetera, please derive. That’s only for the casting group. For the rest of stage and technical, as anticipated, it was hardest to set a universal attitude, and I really had no idea on what kind of approach to employ to enable them to work well and see results. It clearly reflects my lack of command and interpersonal skills – not that I can help it if people refuse to listen; it simply takes two hands to clap. The remaining… Nothing to elaborate I guess. Sheer exploitation ploy.
All in all, to sum it up, I felt like this is the last, though I can never be sure if this would be the last, but it’s for sure a first. The most astonishing would be to observe personal growth. My, how age has caught up! I feel foreign and out of energy for the stage… I thought perhaps it’s only because I’m tired, but the feeling is way over mere fatigue. I used to be able to perform with well-trained drama practitioners thinking absolutely nothing of it (narcissism to complacency, haha), but now I just see things in a pessimistic light. The very fact that low confidence and self-esteem stems from my natural self has taken its toll; I’ve changed. I’ve kept myself in, back to the overly-rational being, the one without the force in things I do, living mundane, pointless and unmotivated days. The contrast is stark and impossible to avoid. The only thing unchanged is still my interest in theatre and my love (and sometimes preference) for acting. Being a cast is truly wonderful, shielded and protected with insignificant personal worries. Passion? I don’t know if it got killed. I guess it’ll take even more time to tell. Meanwhile, I shall make my tiny yet possibly major conclusion to theatre here. It hadn’t been the most magnificent, superlative, glorious, splendid, unforgettable experience – in fact if you asked me to recall memories of it, they’re pretty much bits and pieces that require reconstruction already – but I’m certainly thankful for every single thing that chose to happen for the particular way it happened. And here’s my 1000-word report of this year’s hall production experience.
I'm back.