![Theatre Review: Floating Bones]()
A familiar figure sits atop a cluster of concrete-coloured wooden blocks at the centre of The Arts House’s Play Den, eyes closed, head lowered and breathing slowed. The audience finishes shuffling in, and we sit in silence; the only sound is the puffing of a smoke machine filling the still air with swirling mist. We’re at the opening night of Floating Bones, a double bill of Dragon Bone by Quah Sy Ren – a current NTU Associate Professor – and Floathouse 1001 by Han Lao Da, recipient of the Cultural Medallion in 1990. Originally written in Mandarin, this is the first public performance of the plays in English, and the first time that either of them have seen the light of day in over a decade.
The first of the plays Dragon Bone, is a dark, abstract piece. It is a back and forth between two seemingly unconnected storylines, one of a narrator (Lim Kay Siu), addressing himself about the death of his mother, and the other of a refugee (Bridget Lachica) and her relationship with her lover, a scavenger, a grandmaster/hermit and a grave robber (all played by Zachary Ibrahim). It is an opaque, dreamlike reflection on life and death, violence, repressed sexual feelings and a bit of old fashioned defilement of the dead.
While the world hasn’t quite descended to a point where disturbing graves is a way of life (apart from the odd exhumation or two to feed the needs of a growing population, ahem), the second play is particularly relevant to the present. Written in the mid-1990s, it discusses the plight of the elderly and the disabled when society has no concern or room for them. In the dystopian world of Floathouse 1001, the old and the feeble are cast adrift on floathouses, vessels that will allow them to live in comfort but ultimately take them to their deaths at the bottom of an ocean. Three people aboard Floathouse 1001 face this fate, but as they remember their past joys and loves, they want a way out; a way to relive the good years of their lives, even if only for a few minutes or hours. It’s heavy, but amidst all this is some wicked dark humour, courtesy of Han Lao Da’s experience with crosstalk comedy.
There are impressive performances all around this double bill. Lim Kay Siu draws us in to a difficult play with his narrator’s desperation and disorientation, and his would-be poet Green pokes fun at supposed high-brow literature. Bridget Lachica approaches her role as the refugee with a vulnerability that endears her character to the audience even as she commits acts of brutality on stage. As Red in Floathouse 1001, she tells us that the maligned are not without their hopes and desires. Zachary Ibrahim, who plays five roles across the two plays, holds his own alongside his far more experienced co-leads. Elizabeth Sergeant Tan and Bevin Ng are captivating in Dragon Bone as a pair of “shadows” whose appearances wouldn’t be out of place in dance theatre. Tan also reappears aboard Floathouse 1001 as an android drawn straight from a sci-fi geek’s wildest fantasies.
Floating Bones does take some liberties with its source material, as director Elina Lim of Pinball Collective shares during the post-show Q&A, but there is never a sense of anything lost in adaptation or translation. In fact, the translation adds another dimension to the experience. In a country where most people are at least partially bilingual, we are able to see a work from two different cultural standpoints.
Post-show Q&A session
Not showing any signs of age, these two plays have been revived at an interesting point. Singapore is maturing artistically, more people have access to art and our unique worldview is gaining international attention. What an opportune time then to revisit pioneering works produced when we didn’t quite have the voice that we have now. As the theatre scene in Singapore moves forward, Floating Bones delivers a timely reminder about the wealth of work waiting to be rediscovered.
Additional performances of Floating Bones will take place Jul. 5 at 8pm, and Jul. 6 at 2pm. Tickets are available for $25 through Bytes.