By Valerie Oliveiro, August 19, 2008, in The Urbanwire
History never looked so juicy before. The untold tale of the 50’s Cabaret Queen, Betty Yong, unravels multitudes of unscrupulous men, misfortunes and her struggle to survive. Ogled at by many; she loved the attention. Yet when sincerely loved by few, can she answer a simple question “Do you love me too?”
As black and white footage crackled to life so too did the tale of Betty Yong, the Queen of Cabaret. The old film, supported by archived news reports served well in establishing the 50’s era.
Large white panels slid about the stage; revealing characters, removing props (almost magically) and changing scenes. It was behind these moving panels that actresses Koh Wan Ching, Sia Eemien and He Le Miao swapped roles. The three actresses took on the role of Betty Yong: a highly challenging task, but well executed. The swift moving panels contributed well to smoothen the segue between interchanging roles.
Visuals
Le Miao portrayed the timid and frightened young Betty who was married off to 63-year-old impotent Uncle Guang. Visuals were off the mark in this scene. Explicit, no. Racy, yes. In your face, yes. Visuals for this scene featured a wobbly 3m phallic structure that an old man (Uncle Guang, no doubt) circled. While Le Miao told of her tragic wedding night when she was groped by Uncle Guang, a large image of a hand creepily crawled down on the panel behind her.
Theme of moral decadence
Moral decadence was questioned time and time again throughout the play. Has Singapore opened its doors to moral decadence? The struggle is experienced by the few men who truly loved Betty: how can they be righteous men in society when their lover is none other than the Cabaret Queen? Angrily, Betty shouts out, “sanctimonious teacher… and myself, the epitome of sin!”
Highlights
The movement in the 50’s against decadence was reiterated with old news headlines projected on the screens and a humourous chinese opera-like play called ‘Beware the Leery Wolf‘. Accompanied by the chinese drum, gong and cymbals (click to hear what they sound like), the cast transformed into a pig-tailed young girl, two hunters and a big bad wolf. The audience burst into laughter repeatedly throughout the play. It was wordless but effective.
The most haunting scene of ‘I am Queen’ was when all three actresses took the stage as Betty Yong. A dying raped Betty lay in red lights onstage while eerily singing the popular 40’s song, ‘Wo Yao Ni De Ai’. Betty, on her first day at the brothels, appears confused. Then Betty takes the stage as the Queen of Cabaret. The revisitation of these scenes all at one go, heightened by the eeriest rendition ever heard of ‘Wo Yao Ni De Ai’ made ‘I am Queen’ end with room for discussion.
What went amiss
We wanted to delve into the character of Betty Wong, not skim through it. Speaking to the audience after the show, UrbanWire found out they felt the same way. “This story is often untold. I wanted to know what struggles she goes through and how she deals with them,” shared poly student, Benjamin Lee.
On the theme of moral decadence, Tricia Yeo, mentioned that she found herself empathising with Betty’s righteous lovers. “It was a tough for her lovers to live the life of a righteous man in society by day and by night became the lover of a cabaret queen. I would have loved to see how he wrestled with his dilemma - that would have been admiring to watch.”
Our Verdict
UrbanWire gives ‘I am Queen’ 3.5 out of 5 stars for its excellent direction that captured our attention for the whole 90 minutes. The moving panels deserve an A+ in set design for its seamless movements. The trio who played Betty Yong took their character seriously and lit the stage with their fiery focus. The mini play about the wolf within the play was a comedic, light filler to the 90 minute play. Overall, well done to writers Quah Sy Ren and Liu Xiaoyi for their cleverly written lines and Wu Xi for his superb direction!
Showing posts with label 舞国女皇. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 舞国女皇. Show all posts
Thursday, 18 September 2008
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Sex and the Invisible City
Review of I Am Queen by Ng Yi-Sheng in Flying Inkpot Theatre Review
I Am Queen sold out all its seats a day before opening night. Not a huge surprise: sex sells, and The Theatre Practice had no qualms about marketing this show as a steamy exposé of Singapore as sin city in the '50s, tracing the tale of stripper Betty Yong (fictional, but obviously based on the legendary Rose Chan) as she writhes her way through the turbulent politics of the era.
But bad news, chums: this show just wasn't sexy. The strippers never flashed any real skin - instead, they sported dowdy flesh-coloured bodysuits under their bright skimpy outfits. They didn't pole-dance, either (as the poster image tantalisingly promised) - all we got to see were cutesy cha-cha steps interspersed with novelty acts, against an overused audio backdrop of the bouncy period song "Wo Yao Ni Di Ai" ("I Want Your Love").
What went wrong? We'd expected this to be a play centered on the cabaret culture of Beauty World, Gay World, Happy World and all those other disappeared dance hall-cum-amusement parks. Given that I Am Queen utterly failed to replicate the raucous atmosphere of this setting, shouldn't it get an automatic zero on our scale?
Nope. You see, as problematic as the presentation was, this show was about far more than the lives of dancing girls. Rather, it was about women: specifically, about women who lived in an age when they had nothing to trade for their livelihoods but their bodies.
Betty Yong was really less a character than a cultural survey; this idea was emphasised through the use of an interchangeable trio of actresses to play all female roles. Over a non-linear array of scenes, we traced the cabaret star's progress from orphan to child bride to beauty pageant contestant to dancer to kept woman to lover - and it didn't matter in the least that the story diverged suddenly into tales of forced prostitutes, artists' models and rape victims. Even when characters shifted bodies mid-scene and we couldn't be sure whose story belonged to whom, this simply reinforced the idea that we were observing womanhood oppressed; unable to truly express individuality.
Because of this dramatic strategy, the cast was able to portray the world of Chinese Singapore in the '50s with both breadth and intimacy: snooty art dealers and impotent towkays rubbed shoulders with gangsters and fugitive journalists; Greedy widows morphed into student anti-vice campaigners; policemen became toyboys in sequined pants. I really dug that sense of variety - rather than celebrating a heroine on a pedestal, playwrights Quah Sy Ren and Liu Xiaoyi had decided to create a history of the common man/woman, marking the intersections between the domestic and the political - which was, in the end, what the feminist movement was always about.
Certain episodes stood out. He Le Miao's consistently outstanding performance was epitomised in a a Cantonese monologue where she described Betty's youth and early marriage, shifting characters between her adult self and her hunchbacked old foster mother. I also adored a certain scene where a woman who has been kidnapped and thrust into prostitution encounters the man she once loved. Brutally emotional yet also restrained, this scene allowed both characters unexpected moments of dignity in the midst of shame.
Winning the audience vote, however, was the play within the play, a comic retelling of the fable of the yellow wolf and the clever farm girl, performed to hilarious effect by a troupe of innocently idealistic Chinese school students. Complete with drums, cymbals and absurd wolf-costumes, this was The Theatre Practice at its classic best.
I find I'm also a fan of one of the penultimate scenes of the play, where Koh Wan Ching played Betty at a moment where she had to choose between her career and her love: a moralistic schoolteacher who adored her but detested her profession. "I am what I am," she said to him, before deciding to leave in the middle of the night.
It's the very concept of this that I love. Earlier in the play, we'd seen the clash between the cabaret world and the rigid, moral, doctrinaire Singapore that would grow in influence over the next few decades. Here, however, the relationship was played out with affection: the teacher teasingly clasping Betty's legs as he helps her hang the laundry out to dry.
It's a portrait of a generation. As much as my Chinese-educated mother scorns sex workers and go-go girls, she's still nostalgic for the glitzy fun of the old amusement parks, where such bad women bred in abundance. It's impossible to be completely immune to the romance of those bygone times - and of the strong, independent women like Rose Chan who were actually able to survive and prosper in such a culture.
Mind you, the script of this play wasn't flawless. Betty Yong's character described herself as "queen of the dance world" so many times she sounded like a broken record. A few other critics found it unnecessarily wordy, burdened by the need to explain the historical context. (Personally, I thrive on that stuff, but I can see how it could slow things down for others.)
Director/set designer Wu Xi also gets a mixed grade for his set. Mostly, it was original and versatile: white panels, sliding lengthwise across the stage, behind which actresses may change costumes or characters, or personas may shift from one actress to another. Between scenes, these panels also doubled as projection screens, with old Chinese newspaper headlines flashed across them (an especially nice touch at the end, when we read of how when the PAP gained power in 1959 they cracked down on the various cultures of vice in which these women thrived). What was problematic was the appearance of a giant hollow paper penis, which the actors really couldn't find a good use for in the play. On the multiple occasions it made an appearance, one couldn't help but be distracted by such an extraneous prop.
In the end, after all, audiences in Singapore are already familiar with the raunchy and the explicit in drama - shows like 251, Cabaret, The Magic Fundoshi and the upcoming The Vagina Monologues celebrate unfettered sexuality with a degree of publicity and exposure that rivals the '50s. Once you've used sex as bait with your advertising, it's not only important to make good on the promise of sex - it's also vital to grab the opportunity to teach audiences something they don't know already, to enlighten, to redeem.
So yes, I Am Queen deserved a better staging, where audiences might once again experience the lively rush of a local cabaret performance. But more importantly, The Theatre Practice managed to communicate something of the conflict and crisis of the times - the battle of men and women over women's bodies, played out in a city that we've forgotten about too soon.
First Impression
Quah Sy Ren and Liu Xiaoyi have put together a great script, not only telling the story of '50s cabaret dancer Betty Yong (an obvious homage to the real-life stripper Rose Chan), but also exploring the entire sphere of Chinese womanhood in that era of Singapore. The women of the play are interchangeably performed a trio of versatile actresses, metamorphosing from rape victims to child brides to beauty pageant contestants, nude photographers' models and forced prostitutes - a panoply of humanity, bartered and sold based on the only thing the world wants from them: their bodies. Notably, though, the playwrights tell their tales with tenderness and respect, giving these women a sense of dignity and pride that complicates the standard narrative of exploitation. I'm also impressed by the set, allowing actors hide and vanish behind sliding panels that double as projection screens. In fact, the only thing that seriousy peeves me is the failure of the play to generate a sense of bawdy, noisy, rambunctious bustle in its cabaret scenes - a big flaw, considering that the show begins, ends and often revisits the cabaret.
I Am Queen sold out all its seats a day before opening night. Not a huge surprise: sex sells, and The Theatre Practice had no qualms about marketing this show as a steamy exposé of Singapore as sin city in the '50s, tracing the tale of stripper Betty Yong (fictional, but obviously based on the legendary Rose Chan) as she writhes her way through the turbulent politics of the era.
But bad news, chums: this show just wasn't sexy. The strippers never flashed any real skin - instead, they sported dowdy flesh-coloured bodysuits under their bright skimpy outfits. They didn't pole-dance, either (as the poster image tantalisingly promised) - all we got to see were cutesy cha-cha steps interspersed with novelty acts, against an overused audio backdrop of the bouncy period song "Wo Yao Ni Di Ai" ("I Want Your Love").
What went wrong? We'd expected this to be a play centered on the cabaret culture of Beauty World, Gay World, Happy World and all those other disappeared dance hall-cum-amusement parks. Given that I Am Queen utterly failed to replicate the raucous atmosphere of this setting, shouldn't it get an automatic zero on our scale?
Nope. You see, as problematic as the presentation was, this show was about far more than the lives of dancing girls. Rather, it was about women: specifically, about women who lived in an age when they had nothing to trade for their livelihoods but their bodies.
Betty Yong was really less a character than a cultural survey; this idea was emphasised through the use of an interchangeable trio of actresses to play all female roles. Over a non-linear array of scenes, we traced the cabaret star's progress from orphan to child bride to beauty pageant contestant to dancer to kept woman to lover - and it didn't matter in the least that the story diverged suddenly into tales of forced prostitutes, artists' models and rape victims. Even when characters shifted bodies mid-scene and we couldn't be sure whose story belonged to whom, this simply reinforced the idea that we were observing womanhood oppressed; unable to truly express individuality.
Because of this dramatic strategy, the cast was able to portray the world of Chinese Singapore in the '50s with both breadth and intimacy: snooty art dealers and impotent towkays rubbed shoulders with gangsters and fugitive journalists; Greedy widows morphed into student anti-vice campaigners; policemen became toyboys in sequined pants. I really dug that sense of variety - rather than celebrating a heroine on a pedestal, playwrights Quah Sy Ren and Liu Xiaoyi had decided to create a history of the common man/woman, marking the intersections between the domestic and the political - which was, in the end, what the feminist movement was always about.
Certain episodes stood out. He Le Miao's consistently outstanding performance was epitomised in a a Cantonese monologue where she described Betty's youth and early marriage, shifting characters between her adult self and her hunchbacked old foster mother. I also adored a certain scene where a woman who has been kidnapped and thrust into prostitution encounters the man she once loved. Brutally emotional yet also restrained, this scene allowed both characters unexpected moments of dignity in the midst of shame.
Winning the audience vote, however, was the play within the play, a comic retelling of the fable of the yellow wolf and the clever farm girl, performed to hilarious effect by a troupe of innocently idealistic Chinese school students. Complete with drums, cymbals and absurd wolf-costumes, this was The Theatre Practice at its classic best.
I find I'm also a fan of one of the penultimate scenes of the play, where Koh Wan Ching played Betty at a moment where she had to choose between her career and her love: a moralistic schoolteacher who adored her but detested her profession. "I am what I am," she said to him, before deciding to leave in the middle of the night.
It's the very concept of this that I love. Earlier in the play, we'd seen the clash between the cabaret world and the rigid, moral, doctrinaire Singapore that would grow in influence over the next few decades. Here, however, the relationship was played out with affection: the teacher teasingly clasping Betty's legs as he helps her hang the laundry out to dry.
It's a portrait of a generation. As much as my Chinese-educated mother scorns sex workers and go-go girls, she's still nostalgic for the glitzy fun of the old amusement parks, where such bad women bred in abundance. It's impossible to be completely immune to the romance of those bygone times - and of the strong, independent women like Rose Chan who were actually able to survive and prosper in such a culture.
Mind you, the script of this play wasn't flawless. Betty Yong's character described herself as "queen of the dance world" so many times she sounded like a broken record. A few other critics found it unnecessarily wordy, burdened by the need to explain the historical context. (Personally, I thrive on that stuff, but I can see how it could slow things down for others.)
Director/set designer Wu Xi also gets a mixed grade for his set. Mostly, it was original and versatile: white panels, sliding lengthwise across the stage, behind which actresses may change costumes or characters, or personas may shift from one actress to another. Between scenes, these panels also doubled as projection screens, with old Chinese newspaper headlines flashed across them (an especially nice touch at the end, when we read of how when the PAP gained power in 1959 they cracked down on the various cultures of vice in which these women thrived). What was problematic was the appearance of a giant hollow paper penis, which the actors really couldn't find a good use for in the play. On the multiple occasions it made an appearance, one couldn't help but be distracted by such an extraneous prop.
In the end, after all, audiences in Singapore are already familiar with the raunchy and the explicit in drama - shows like 251, Cabaret, The Magic Fundoshi and the upcoming The Vagina Monologues celebrate unfettered sexuality with a degree of publicity and exposure that rivals the '50s. Once you've used sex as bait with your advertising, it's not only important to make good on the promise of sex - it's also vital to grab the opportunity to teach audiences something they don't know already, to enlighten, to redeem.
So yes, I Am Queen deserved a better staging, where audiences might once again experience the lively rush of a local cabaret performance. But more importantly, The Theatre Practice managed to communicate something of the conflict and crisis of the times - the battle of men and women over women's bodies, played out in a city that we've forgotten about too soon.
First Impression
Quah Sy Ren and Liu Xiaoyi have put together a great script, not only telling the story of '50s cabaret dancer Betty Yong (an obvious homage to the real-life stripper Rose Chan), but also exploring the entire sphere of Chinese womanhood in that era of Singapore. The women of the play are interchangeably performed a trio of versatile actresses, metamorphosing from rape victims to child brides to beauty pageant contestants, nude photographers' models and forced prostitutes - a panoply of humanity, bartered and sold based on the only thing the world wants from them: their bodies. Notably, though, the playwrights tell their tales with tenderness and respect, giving these women a sense of dignity and pride that complicates the standard narrative of exploitation. I'm also impressed by the set, allowing actors hide and vanish behind sliding panels that double as projection screens. In fact, the only thing that seriousy peeves me is the failure of the play to generate a sense of bawdy, noisy, rambunctious bustle in its cabaret scenes - a big flaw, considering that the show begins, ends and often revisits the cabaret.
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
首演之夜
明天晚上就是《舞国女皇》的首演。六场的票已经全部卖完。原本已经忐忑不安，知道场场满座，更是紧张。
我的习惯是写完剧本之后，就不管导演和演员做什么、怎么做，不过，到时会看到一个如何经过改头换面的戏，还是有所期待的。最期待的是，看戏会有惊喜，就好像看一个我从来不认识的剧本排成的戏。
被赞还是被骂，就看明晚了。
我的习惯是写完剧本之后，就不管导演和演员做什么、怎么做，不过，到时会看到一个如何经过改头换面的戏，还是有所期待的。最期待的是，看戏会有惊喜，就好像看一个我从来不认识的剧本排成的戏。
被赞还是被骂，就看明晚了。
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
师生编剧柯思仁刘晓义笔谈 50年代政治和舞女文化
《联合早报》2008年8月5日
《舞国女王》主题涉及50年代舞女文化、政治思潮、新加坡独立运动等重要社会和政治课题，针对这些课题，两名编剧，也是师生关系的柯思仁和刘晓义以笔谈方式，表达各自的看法——
新加坡情意结
● 柯思仁：
这是最难回答的问题。我比较习惯以抽离方式来谈跟新加坡有关的事情。也许是因为这个谈论的对象本来就太过具体和接近，本来就是生活的一个部分，如果再过于耽溺的话，可能会让人伤痛。于是你可以说，情意结肯定是有的，而且很深。有意思的地方，就在于情意结这个概念的复杂性和矛盾性。有时表现出来，恰好和内心所想的相反。
● 刘晓义：
我是个外国人，但每次谈到新加坡，对我而言都是一个有趣的话题。
首先我自认比较了解新加坡。由于个人兴趣及工作关系，其实我了解许多新加坡人都未必知道的事。反讽的是，实践剧场在“街戏”中努力“扫盲”、推广的本地历史、文化、习俗，是由我这个外国人来做的。每次当我在街上为来来往往的新加坡人讲新加坡历史时，总是心生一种怪异感。
这种怪异感证明熟悉感与归属感是两个不同的事情。我可以对这里越来越熟悉，越来越舒适，越来越发现这里的可爱之处，可毕竟这里不是我早年生长的地方，我始终没有办法对新加坡产生比中国还大的归属感。
也许保持这种距离，可更客观理性地观察和思考这里曾经发生和正在发生的一切。
50年代的新加坡政治环境
● 柯思仁：
1950年代是激情而充满理想主义的年代。与现在不同的是，那也是一个价值多元化的时代。这几年我对于独立前后的新加坡很感兴趣，研究工作也涉及那个年代的文化、艺术、社会和思想。去年我参与了圆切线举办的展览“逍遥游：新加坡的中学生活与课余活动（1945-1965）”的筹备工作，也有机会更深入地了解那个时代。
一般对于那个年代的认知，主要是反殖和独立运动。从政治史角度来说，这当然是非常重要的部分。不过近年来有不少人开始挖掘官方叙述版本以外的历史，例如从学生运动参与者的角度来进行叙述，让我们发现原本被隐埋的理想主义和对于本土的热情。另一方面，除了政治，还有许多其他的层面，属于社会的层面，更直接和人们的日常生活有关的活动，也有更多的展现。
● 刘晓义：
50年代对我而言是多元的。处于一个政治变动、文化交错的年代，其社会环境必定复杂而精彩。在这个环境中，移民社会一方面延续传统思想和价值观，一方面适应英殖民政府的经济社会，当然还有反赤声浪，争取独立的反殖浪潮，以及马来亚文化建设等等……这中间，“反黄运动”作为武器的意义并不简单，甚至成为当时人民行动党的四大纲领之一。单从这一点就能窥探出，它所“反对”的未必只是“黄色文化”那么简单。
随着那个时代的过去，主流意识形态逐渐“霸占”了喉舌，我们听到多元声音的机会就越来越少——包括当年在“反黄运动”当中被压迫者的声音。可以说，很多弱势但是真实的历史，都隐藏在主流意识形态之下。于是这个城市的历史和现状，
舞女文化和舞女
● 柯思仁：
首先，1950年代反黄运动的直接目标是包括脱衣舞在内的色情文化，不过他们的对象是殖民地统治者。因此反黄运动是一种声东击西的策略。黄色文化的广泛流传，从道德角度来说，当然也是一个备受关注的问题。撇开这些不说，对于一个成熟的社会来说，我是认为脱衣舞这类的表演，并不是需要赶尽杀绝的。反过来说，前几年的“癫马”表演，我倒是觉得那是有点虚伪的。既然是商业化的脱衣舞表演，何必非得要假装成艺术呢？
这里有一个根本的重点，那就是在这个活动中，是不是有人被剥削，无论是舞女，还是观众。譬如说，舞女是被迫表演的未成年少女，或者观众是心智成熟的少年，那就是一个社会问题，需要关注。如果没有涉及剥削（当然“剥削”本身也是一个复杂的课题），那么倒不必把一般人民看成永远长不大的孩子。
● 刘晓义：
《舞国女皇》中的“舞女”，其实就是一把声音。一把不同于主流意识形态的声音。历史的建构中，基本上都是以男性社会的角度去叙述的。舞女作为“黄色文化”中男性的“消费品”，却也作为“反黄运动”中十恶不赦的“毒品”，成为男性“正义行为”下的“牺牲者”。在这一过程中女性作为弱势群体，可以说，她们在男人所建构的历史当中，没有得到应有的理解和尊重。剧本就是尝试重新去叙述舞女的故事，从而去解构历史。
一个现代社会不可能是完全一元的，但往往只有胜利者的历史会被当作唯一的“历史”纪录下来。舞女的声音曾真实地在这个城市里存在，如今被掩埋着。剧本尝试发出舞女的声音，是要让现代社会知道我们原本所以为理所当然的“历史”，未必是历史的全部。同样，今天便是明天的历史。今天的社会里，也许也有形形色色的“舞女”声音同样被掩埋在主流社会声音底下，没有人去倾听。但是你不能否认她们也将是历史中重要的一部分。
师生合作的创作方式
● 柯思仁：
我认识晓义时他是一个演员，而我是个观众。我不敢以老师自居。我们刚开始合作写这个剧本时，也是一种平等的伙伴关系。后来晓义进了南大中文系，成为我的学生，这完全是巧合。我倒不觉得有什么特别。对我来说，目前名义上的师生关系只是阶段性的。我们之前是朋友，晓义毕业后我们也仍然是朋友。合作过程中我也向他学了许多。晓义很有才华，文字的感觉丰富，文采也好。我们的配合很有默契。《舞国女皇》是第一次合作，但是我们已在讨论接下来的合作计划了呢。
●刘晓义：
我首先是个演员，然后才是编剧。这促使我在创作剧本时，常是以演员本体为出发点。不论是人物发展还是舞台调度，都带有较多的感性成分。创作可能更多源于一种冲动，而不是理性思考。
柯老师带给我的是理性思考。四五年前我创作第一个剧本时，他就是我的指导老师。虽然那时交流不多，但是从他身上学习到很重要的一点，就是剧本不只需要其外部戏剧效果罢了，还需要其内部的多层内涵。
时隔几年我们决定合作写《舞国女皇》，我随后也进入南大成为他的学生。可以说整个创作过程我同样在上课，从柯老师身上汲取我本来欠缺的东西，是一次很难得的体验。
● 柯思仁 南洋理工大学中文系副教授，作品有《市中隐者》、《骨骨》、《独在家乡为异客》等。
● 刘晓义 生于中国，现就读南洋理工大学。曾任实践剧场驻团演员三年，近年涉足编剧和导演，作品有舞剧《2105》、舞台剧《猫人》等。
《舞国女王》主题涉及50年代舞女文化、政治思潮、新加坡独立运动等重要社会和政治课题，针对这些课题，两名编剧，也是师生关系的柯思仁和刘晓义以笔谈方式，表达各自的看法——
新加坡情意结
● 柯思仁：
这是最难回答的问题。我比较习惯以抽离方式来谈跟新加坡有关的事情。也许是因为这个谈论的对象本来就太过具体和接近，本来就是生活的一个部分，如果再过于耽溺的话，可能会让人伤痛。于是你可以说，情意结肯定是有的，而且很深。有意思的地方，就在于情意结这个概念的复杂性和矛盾性。有时表现出来，恰好和内心所想的相反。
● 刘晓义：
我是个外国人，但每次谈到新加坡，对我而言都是一个有趣的话题。
首先我自认比较了解新加坡。由于个人兴趣及工作关系，其实我了解许多新加坡人都未必知道的事。反讽的是，实践剧场在“街戏”中努力“扫盲”、推广的本地历史、文化、习俗，是由我这个外国人来做的。每次当我在街上为来来往往的新加坡人讲新加坡历史时，总是心生一种怪异感。
这种怪异感证明熟悉感与归属感是两个不同的事情。我可以对这里越来越熟悉，越来越舒适，越来越发现这里的可爱之处，可毕竟这里不是我早年生长的地方，我始终没有办法对新加坡产生比中国还大的归属感。
也许保持这种距离，可更客观理性地观察和思考这里曾经发生和正在发生的一切。
50年代的新加坡政治环境
● 柯思仁：
1950年代是激情而充满理想主义的年代。与现在不同的是，那也是一个价值多元化的时代。这几年我对于独立前后的新加坡很感兴趣，研究工作也涉及那个年代的文化、艺术、社会和思想。去年我参与了圆切线举办的展览“逍遥游：新加坡的中学生活与课余活动（1945-1965）”的筹备工作，也有机会更深入地了解那个时代。
一般对于那个年代的认知，主要是反殖和独立运动。从政治史角度来说，这当然是非常重要的部分。不过近年来有不少人开始挖掘官方叙述版本以外的历史，例如从学生运动参与者的角度来进行叙述，让我们发现原本被隐埋的理想主义和对于本土的热情。另一方面，除了政治，还有许多其他的层面，属于社会的层面，更直接和人们的日常生活有关的活动，也有更多的展现。
● 刘晓义：
50年代对我而言是多元的。处于一个政治变动、文化交错的年代，其社会环境必定复杂而精彩。在这个环境中，移民社会一方面延续传统思想和价值观，一方面适应英殖民政府的经济社会，当然还有反赤声浪，争取独立的反殖浪潮，以及马来亚文化建设等等……这中间，“反黄运动”作为武器的意义并不简单，甚至成为当时人民行动党的四大纲领之一。单从这一点就能窥探出，它所“反对”的未必只是“黄色文化”那么简单。
随着那个时代的过去，主流意识形态逐渐“霸占”了喉舌，我们听到多元声音的机会就越来越少——包括当年在“反黄运动”当中被压迫者的声音。可以说，很多弱势但是真实的历史，都隐藏在主流意识形态之下。于是这个城市的历史和现状，
舞女文化和舞女
● 柯思仁：
首先，1950年代反黄运动的直接目标是包括脱衣舞在内的色情文化，不过他们的对象是殖民地统治者。因此反黄运动是一种声东击西的策略。黄色文化的广泛流传，从道德角度来说，当然也是一个备受关注的问题。撇开这些不说，对于一个成熟的社会来说，我是认为脱衣舞这类的表演，并不是需要赶尽杀绝的。反过来说，前几年的“癫马”表演，我倒是觉得那是有点虚伪的。既然是商业化的脱衣舞表演，何必非得要假装成艺术呢？
这里有一个根本的重点，那就是在这个活动中，是不是有人被剥削，无论是舞女，还是观众。譬如说，舞女是被迫表演的未成年少女，或者观众是心智成熟的少年，那就是一个社会问题，需要关注。如果没有涉及剥削（当然“剥削”本身也是一个复杂的课题），那么倒不必把一般人民看成永远长不大的孩子。
● 刘晓义：
《舞国女皇》中的“舞女”，其实就是一把声音。一把不同于主流意识形态的声音。历史的建构中，基本上都是以男性社会的角度去叙述的。舞女作为“黄色文化”中男性的“消费品”，却也作为“反黄运动”中十恶不赦的“毒品”，成为男性“正义行为”下的“牺牲者”。在这一过程中女性作为弱势群体，可以说，她们在男人所建构的历史当中，没有得到应有的理解和尊重。剧本就是尝试重新去叙述舞女的故事，从而去解构历史。
一个现代社会不可能是完全一元的，但往往只有胜利者的历史会被当作唯一的“历史”纪录下来。舞女的声音曾真实地在这个城市里存在，如今被掩埋着。剧本尝试发出舞女的声音，是要让现代社会知道我们原本所以为理所当然的“历史”，未必是历史的全部。同样，今天便是明天的历史。今天的社会里，也许也有形形色色的“舞女”声音同样被掩埋在主流社会声音底下，没有人去倾听。但是你不能否认她们也将是历史中重要的一部分。
师生合作的创作方式
● 柯思仁：
我认识晓义时他是一个演员，而我是个观众。我不敢以老师自居。我们刚开始合作写这个剧本时，也是一种平等的伙伴关系。后来晓义进了南大中文系，成为我的学生，这完全是巧合。我倒不觉得有什么特别。对我来说，目前名义上的师生关系只是阶段性的。我们之前是朋友，晓义毕业后我们也仍然是朋友。合作过程中我也向他学了许多。晓义很有才华，文字的感觉丰富，文采也好。我们的配合很有默契。《舞国女皇》是第一次合作，但是我们已在讨论接下来的合作计划了呢。
●刘晓义：
我首先是个演员，然后才是编剧。这促使我在创作剧本时，常是以演员本体为出发点。不论是人物发展还是舞台调度，都带有较多的感性成分。创作可能更多源于一种冲动，而不是理性思考。
柯老师带给我的是理性思考。四五年前我创作第一个剧本时，他就是我的指导老师。虽然那时交流不多，但是从他身上学习到很重要的一点，就是剧本不只需要其外部戏剧效果罢了，还需要其内部的多层内涵。
时隔几年我们决定合作写《舞国女皇》，我随后也进入南大成为他的学生。可以说整个创作过程我同样在上课，从柯老师身上汲取我本来欠缺的东西，是一次很难得的体验。
● 柯思仁 南洋理工大学中文系副教授，作品有《市中隐者》、《骨骨》、《独在家乡为异客》等。
● 刘晓义 生于中国，现就读南洋理工大学。曾任实践剧场驻团演员三年，近年涉足编剧和导演，作品有舞剧《2105》、舞台剧《猫人》等。
实践剧场新戏《舞国女皇》 导演逼演员跳艳舞
《联合早报》2008年8月5日
● 周文龙
实践剧场新戏《舞国女皇》，题材围绕50年代新加坡脱衣舞娘故事，该剧导演吴熙觉得自己好像“色情伯伯”，硬逼着女演员们跳艳舞。
吴熙笑说：“那天我们彩排时，我不断地演员们进行‘性骚扰’，说她们不够风骚，要再放胆一点。”
《舞国女皇》是本地编剧柯思仁和刘晓义的新作，主要从一场奸杀案引发的一场社会运动，以及四段错综复杂的爱情，描写50年代的脱衣舞女杨彩云的故事。
《舞国女皇》共有六名演员参与，其中三名女演员何乐苗、许婉婧、谢伊敏，分别饰演成名前、成名时，与成名后的杨彩云。
三人都对50年代，新加坡色情文化泛滥，甚至报纸都是煽动色情文化主要工具，色情宣传事业无孔不入的情景感到惊讶。
杨彩云是个虚构人物
许婉婧就说：“以前的报纸头版还打上艳星全裸照片，或是XX肉弹轰炸新加坡，照片和用词露骨淫秽。相比之下，现在报纸的交友热线广告简直就是小儿科嘛。”
谈到她所饰演的角色“杨彩云”，许婉婧表示这是一个虚构人物，却结合了那时期如陈惠娘等真实脱衣舞娘故事。
虽然许婉婧经验丰富，演过舞台剧如《XX神童》《李大傻》等，但这次演“脱衣舞娘”角色却无疑是她表演上的一大挑战。她说：“演一个取悦人的角色不容易，你的自信心必须很强，才能在舞台上露风骚。”
弱者还是独立女星？
毕业自实践“剧场训练与研究课程”的本地演员谢伊敏，难想象新加坡曾有脱衣舞场或脱衣舞娘的存在。但她认为，“杨彩云”在男人眼中也许是弱者，从现代社会角度来看，“杨彩云”却是一个独立女星，甚至是生意人。
来自中国深圳，首次在新加坡演戏的何乐苗，印象中的新加坡是干净、清洁的，了解新加坡过去的色情文化后，她说：“50年代的新加坡，听起来很乱，也似乎挺精彩的。”
导演吴熙表示，他将通过《舞国女皇》这出戏检验男权主义的掠夺和压迫。他说：“脱衣舞娘是为男性欲望而服务的，强暴事件也是男性暴力而引起，但大家却将色情文化和暴力归咎于脱衣舞娘，这是很可悲的事情。”
《舞国女皇》其他演员有苏佳亮、刘宏和梁志辉。
●日期：8月14日至17日
●时间：晚上8时，周末增演下午场2时30分
●地点：戏剧中心黑箱剧场
●票价: 35元
●售票：SISTIC
●询问电话：63485555
● 周文龙
实践剧场新戏《舞国女皇》，题材围绕50年代新加坡脱衣舞娘故事，该剧导演吴熙觉得自己好像“色情伯伯”，硬逼着女演员们跳艳舞。
吴熙笑说：“那天我们彩排时，我不断地演员们进行‘性骚扰’，说她们不够风骚，要再放胆一点。”
《舞国女皇》是本地编剧柯思仁和刘晓义的新作，主要从一场奸杀案引发的一场社会运动，以及四段错综复杂的爱情，描写50年代的脱衣舞女杨彩云的故事。
《舞国女皇》共有六名演员参与，其中三名女演员何乐苗、许婉婧、谢伊敏，分别饰演成名前、成名时，与成名后的杨彩云。
三人都对50年代，新加坡色情文化泛滥，甚至报纸都是煽动色情文化主要工具，色情宣传事业无孔不入的情景感到惊讶。
杨彩云是个虚构人物
许婉婧就说：“以前的报纸头版还打上艳星全裸照片，或是XX肉弹轰炸新加坡，照片和用词露骨淫秽。相比之下，现在报纸的交友热线广告简直就是小儿科嘛。”
谈到她所饰演的角色“杨彩云”，许婉婧表示这是一个虚构人物，却结合了那时期如陈惠娘等真实脱衣舞娘故事。
虽然许婉婧经验丰富，演过舞台剧如《XX神童》《李大傻》等，但这次演“脱衣舞娘”角色却无疑是她表演上的一大挑战。她说：“演一个取悦人的角色不容易，你的自信心必须很强，才能在舞台上露风骚。”
弱者还是独立女星？
毕业自实践“剧场训练与研究课程”的本地演员谢伊敏，难想象新加坡曾有脱衣舞场或脱衣舞娘的存在。但她认为，“杨彩云”在男人眼中也许是弱者，从现代社会角度来看，“杨彩云”却是一个独立女星，甚至是生意人。
来自中国深圳，首次在新加坡演戏的何乐苗，印象中的新加坡是干净、清洁的，了解新加坡过去的色情文化后，她说：“50年代的新加坡，听起来很乱，也似乎挺精彩的。”
导演吴熙表示，他将通过《舞国女皇》这出戏检验男权主义的掠夺和压迫。他说：“脱衣舞娘是为男性欲望而服务的，强暴事件也是男性暴力而引起，但大家却将色情文化和暴力归咎于脱衣舞娘，这是很可悲的事情。”
《舞国女皇》其他演员有苏佳亮、刘宏和梁志辉。
●日期：8月14日至17日
●时间：晚上8时，周末增演下午场2时30分
●地点：戏剧中心黑箱剧场
●票价: 35元
●售票：SISTIC
●询问电话：63485555
Friday, 1 August 2008
Saturday, 5 July 2008
写剧本的状态
这个部落格的设立，是为了记录改编自我的剧本和散文的戏剧《独在家乡为异客》的演出和回应，所以部落格也借用剧名为名。那是在2006年6月。我没有想到，才过了两年，这个部落格又有一个新戏要向读者宣传。
回顾一下，我写的剧本和演出的年份（不算学生时代的习作）有以下几个：
1. 《适度的梦》，1989年，柯思仁、陈英豪编剧，陈英豪导演。
2. 《刺客 · 乩童 · 按摩女郎》，1991年，柯思仁、陈英豪编剧，陈英豪导演。
3. 《市中隐者》，1996年，柯思仁编剧，郭庆亮导演。1997年台北演出（郭庆亮导演）；2000年新加坡重演（沈鹏耀导演）。
4. 《骨骨》，2002年，柯思仁编剧，陈日辉改编、导演。
5. 《独在家乡为异客》，2006年，柯思仁、黄浩威文本，郭庆亮改编、导演。
去年，实践剧场向我提起，要在今年在新加坡剧场节做一个演出，我很高兴的答应了。践红说，是和晓义合作。当时，晓义还在实践剧场做全职，谁知道，过了没有多久，他就进了南大中文系，成了我班上的学生呢。
整个构思、讨论、写作的过程，非常愉快。和晓义的谈话中，有许多想法上的冲击，也带来许多新的灵感。我们现在的 official 身份是师生，不过，这不怎么妨碍我们的合作，反而通过上课时频繁的思想交流，我们在想法上有更多的默契。
我现在的状态，是想要写剧本呢。期待看《舞国女皇》在8月的演出，同时，我又开始构思下一个剧本了。
回顾一下，我写的剧本和演出的年份（不算学生时代的习作）有以下几个：
1. 《适度的梦》，1989年，柯思仁、陈英豪编剧，陈英豪导演。
2. 《刺客 · 乩童 · 按摩女郎》，1991年，柯思仁、陈英豪编剧，陈英豪导演。
3. 《市中隐者》，1996年，柯思仁编剧，郭庆亮导演。1997年台北演出（郭庆亮导演）；2000年新加坡重演（沈鹏耀导演）。
4. 《骨骨》，2002年，柯思仁编剧，陈日辉改编、导演。
5. 《独在家乡为异客》，2006年，柯思仁、黄浩威文本，郭庆亮改编、导演。
去年，实践剧场向我提起，要在今年在新加坡剧场节做一个演出，我很高兴的答应了。践红说，是和晓义合作。当时，晓义还在实践剧场做全职，谁知道，过了没有多久，他就进了南大中文系，成了我班上的学生呢。
整个构思、讨论、写作的过程，非常愉快。和晓义的谈话中，有许多想法上的冲击，也带来许多新的灵感。我们现在的 official 身份是师生，不过，这不怎么妨碍我们的合作，反而通过上课时频繁的思想交流，我们在想法上有更多的默契。
我现在的状态，是想要写剧本呢。期待看《舞国女皇》在8月的演出，同时，我又开始构思下一个剧本了。
Wednesday, 18 June 2008
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