Yes, there are multiple levels of obnoxiousness in that statement, but hey. Deal with it.
The KL Performing Arts Centre was pretty impressive, of itself. Located deep inside Sentul West (so that’s where that is), the design of the building is the kind I like when it comes to depositories of the arts – industrial, with a high, vertical open plan and unfinished surfaces.
Girl From Ipoh is a play by Low Ngai Yuen, with music by local a cappella group LiT Performers. I won’t overexert my precious few brain cells in reciting the specs - they’re all here.
Good thing I’d read up on the pre-publicity to see what it’s (or supposed to be) about. The director’s publicity write-up was quoted in The Star as such-
“The play explores an issue that plagues many – when is a Chinese person not Chinese enough? Does speaking English without sounding Chinese make them a traitor to their culture? Or does speaking mat salleh sounding Chinese make them an abomination to the race? Does liking everything Western mean a degradation of everything that is Asian?”
Interesting. If only the actual play had lived up to its premise.
Wong Mei Lee is the girl from Ipoh. Her father runs a noodle stall. Mei Lee refuses to speak Cantonese, her father’s dialect, and is instead, enamoured with Western culture as depicted in the movies. Adopting a Western name – Holly (as in Golightly) – she moves to KL where the lion’s share of the play takes place. In KL, Holly stumbles around with her naïve concept of love, hence, presumably, the play’s tag line – A Chinese Make Love Story. Things turn out badly, there’s a bun in the oven and Mei Lee returns to her father in Ipoh. Tamat.
The show kicked off with the LiT Performers singing Simon & Garfunkle’s Sound of Silence in the semi-darkness. Given LiT’s role as Mei Lee’s inner voice, I think this opening sequence was intended to place the audience inside the environment of her head.
Unfortunately, LiT’s rendition of the song was simply awful, to the point of distraction. I can understand the need to be original but to open a show with a performance akin to that of an amateur beer garden karaoke songstress? Teeth-gritting.
That was the only bad song of the night, though. Perhaps it was just opening jitters. The suck-o-meter remained silent thereafter.
Carmen Soo, in the leading role, was mostly cute. Her monologues were a little too fast (understandably, given the typical Malaysian audience’s uneasiness with prolonged silence) and spoken in a little-girl, breathy voice that teetered dangerously close to being irritating, but never quite crossing the line. She did have a few good moments though, particularly in the scene where she presents her father with a Christmas gift only to be cruelly rebuked.
Despite an unfathomable fringe (reminded me of a skanky Bai Ling… ummm, ignore the redundancy) and boofy costumes (NOT a good impression, Melinda Looi) Carmen still looked really pretty. Yum. We left the play wondering if the fringe was actually the end bits of her hair, flopped over her forehead. It was that weird looking.
Lee Swee Keong as Mei Lee’s father was a standout. Perfectly timed performance and devoid of over-acting, despite the ripe opportunity that his 99% Cantonese-only dialogue presented.
Not much to say about Season Chee (what a name) and Tony Eusoff, who played Mei Lee’s love interests, other than they do comedy really well, Tony more so.
The overall story was a let-down. It started off well enough with an old-time coffee shop setting (complete with smoke steaming from the noodle pot) in which the pivotal rejection of the Cantonese dialect by Mei Lee in favour of English is played out.
"I go to a Malay school. I don't speak Chinese. Am I still Chinese?" wonders Mei Lee.
The script then bizarrely turns into Ally McBeal meets Buffy the Musical meets Phua Chu Kang. In Petaling Jaya.
Naïve girl shacks up with a cad and gets her heart broken. The voices in her head sing consoling songs. The only thing Chinese about that theme is that it’s frequently the subject of Hong Kong drama serials. Without the singing voices.
What someone should have done for director and scriptwriter Low during her writing process is what I’ll do for you here right now. Say it with me…the premise of this play is an exploration of -
“when is a Chinese person not Chinese enough?”
What’s love got to do, got to do with it?
Wah, I’m adding my own music soundtrack to this review. Heh.
We are shown that Mei Lee’s father speaks to her in Cantonese and she replies in English.
And…that’s all, folks.
Focussing on the rejection of the Chinese language in favour of English as Mei Lee’s main (if not only) crime, Low barely breaks the skin of the language issue, much less even touch on the essence of what it means to be Chinese.
What about the scorn that complete strangers, what more one’s own relatives, pour upon a non-Chinese-speaking person? I remember my friend, a doctor of Peranakan heritage but officially Chinese, being almost sick with anxiety at being posted to small villages with predominantly Chinese communities. Her fear stemmed from having been scolded by several of her patients for the disgrace of being Chinese yet not knowing how to speak or understand the language.
The element of shame, in respect of family, race and community, was most unfortunately not explored.
On a positive note, I did like the device that Low utilised with regards to the Cantonese-English dialogue. In the scene where Mei Lee’s dad berates her over her language deficiency, simultaneous English translation was provided by one of the LiT Performers. A whole spiel of typically florid Cantonese lecturing was translated as “errr… he’s upset”.
Another LiT singer, representing the voice of a non-Chinese speaker, then questions the accuracy of the translation – he said so many things, why does all that translate into just two words? The frustration surely found echoes in the thoughts of those in the audience who don’t understand Cantonese. For those of us who do, it should underscore how much nuance and cultural colour gets lost without the benefit of contextual comprehension.
Having said that though, being Chinese isn’t just about language. In our multicultural society, it’s inevitable to find people of other races who can speak better Mandarin/Hokkien/Cantonese than a Chinese person. Obviously though, that doesn’t make them Chinese. It merely gives them a communication edge.
The modern age’s Banana Person phenomenon – literally white on the inside, yellow on the outside – presents a fruit crate of material that Low has clearly failed to partake of. Language, customs, values – there’s a whole fruit cake in there. And it’s called culture.
Being Chinese, as an issue of identity, is fundamentally about culture and cultural pride.
Sure, we're treated to Mei Lee's blind obsession with the bells and whistles of Western culture. She adopts Christmas gift-giving, her inner soundtrack is in English and she’s enthralled by Hollywood movies and Bridget Jones-style self-help books.
But what about the aspects of Chinese culture thereby rejected, in contrast?
I personally feel that the dilemma of preserving a Chinese identity is characterised by the erosion of cultural appreciation and observance.
The bulldozer of modernity and convenience continually pushes customs such as honouring one’s ancestors (the “worship” tag is its downfall) and having the Chinese New Year reunion dinner at home into the growing heap of the old-fashioned and inconvenient.
Handshakes and kisses replace the serving of tea or “soja” to one’s parents and elder relatives on the first morning of Chinese New Year. Forks and spoons are easier to use than chopsticks and bowls. Recipes for traditional foods follow the older generation into the grave. Wearing black is ok. Traditional cultural clothing/patterns/accoutrements are only worn on formal occasions.
All said, it’s not my place to get on that cultural high horse. I see the same erosion in myself. Recognition is the first step, or the very least one can do.
I’ve digressed.
Basically, the play absolutely failed to live up to its publicity write-ups. How does the ending, where Mei Lee’s father reluctantly welcomes her and the bun in her oven back to Ipoh, at all support the conclusion that she’s redeemed her Chinese roots?
What we did get though, was light comedy and a very enjoyable a cappella performance. LiT Performers so very saved the show.
The sounds produced by these 8 women were amazing. Colleen Daphne (I think) must have been an electric guitar in a previous life. As for the songs, the best was the sequence that contrasted Mei Lee’s Western daydreams with the reality of her father’s Chinese coffeeshop surroundings. In the background, LiT switched seamlessly back and forth between Under The Boardwalk and a Chinese (folk?) song, complete with doo-wop finger clicks and that unmistakably Chinese arm swish, as appropriate.
The best singers, imo, were Fang Chyi and er…Angie Teoh (I think that’s her name. The small one in satin blouse). Can’t remember what they sang as a duet, but it was perfect. Special mention goes to LiT’s director, Penny Low, for having copious amounts of saliva. I’d think that would be a pre-requisite for being a human beat box.
The closing segment was excellent. All the cast members came out for a vigorous rendition of Doncha Wish Your Hor Fun Was As Hot As Me and a brilliant weaving of Barbie Girl with Cantonese rap.
We were lucky that we chose Thursday’s performance. Apparently the bulk of Friday’s crowd weren’t even interested in an encore. The encore we got provided a feel-good bang to carry with us out of KLPac. Definitely needed, after what was overall, a rather mediocre storyline.
14 comments:
right on! i wish i could be there to witness the performance. carmen soo, how cute? aiyaa, kakiseni no gambar yet. no review yet. u should send this to pang khee teik. :)
fang chyi can sing to me every night. her voice is sooooo soothing and strong. i'm gonna meet her when i go back. ;)
That WAS long indeed. Uhmm... can give synopsis of the review?... heehee :D
Interesting. The write-up of the play would have piqued my interest, but from reading your review, I'd probably have come out of it very...erm, pissed off. :)
Cultural identity is a complex beast, and is definitely more than just rejecting the mother tongue and embracing English. I'm sure the French would have some choice words to say about how the Western world is not just English and Hollywood.
This is something I myself have been struggling with, not so much with whether or not I've forgotten my chinese roots, but from seeing friends deny their own roots. Not just in terms of language, but also culture, food, identification, etc.
Like you said, it's not about being on a high horse - there are tons of the chinese culture that I only learn about (and appreciate) when I live outside of Malaysia.
percolator - Haiya, lazyeyes. :) Read the indented paragraph and the next two paragraphs.
bertha - I was prompted to go see it exactly because of the write-up. The only reason why I didn't leave pissed off was the music.
Heh. The French have choice words for many things, I'm sure. :)
Not that I'm advocating that we should all make a pilgrimage to China or wave little red books, but I do lament the fact that many outside of China don't think it's necessary to be aware of the history of China and the Chinese.
But most of all, it's just really sad that the vibrance and colour of Chinese traditions and customs has become so diluted by the obsession with neon, steel and Prada.
An insidious modern day equivalent of the Cultural Revolution is occuring. And too many don't seem to care.
well, when i was younger, whenever i'm being thrown a "call-urself-chinese?" line, i'll reply proudly that i'm a MALAYSIAN CHINESE. but now, i wish that i've paid more attention during those kelas bahasa cina sessions, for i'm beginning to see how much i've missed out by being illiterate to the language. not just linguistically, but also culturally and emotionally. coz really, we can learn so much of a culture just from their language!
my only consolation now is that i'm still able to speak the various dialects of the chinese language pretty well...
An insidious modern day equivalent of the Cultural Revolution is occuring. And too many don't seem to care.
You're quite right there. One of my greatest regrets is never really learning Chinese back in school, and it was because I actively chose not to. Very foolishly, I might add. So it saddens me now when friends tell me that they think anything that comes out of East Asia (not just China) is inferior to what the West can offer (this is usually when I start the George Bush jibe). ;)
The problem is, people are only aware of China as this big communist country without really understanding the magnitude of the 5000-year old history because they always think Europe, or worse, America has the more interesting history.
I have to admit though, my own journey to self-discovery about being Chinese really started when I got to Australia; being in Malaysia somehow always made me confuse. :)
Don't know what it is about the net that seem to compell me to rush and speed. Like it's imperative to react quicker tha I like to. Smaller bits seem so much easier to digest.
Or perhaps, it's my age - I'm more of a print person, really. A hard copy lets me settle down comfortably in bed, on the sofa and slowly digest, drop it and return to it later, in the loo even. Heh!
Whereas, online, it's like a certain urgency takes over, like it demands speedy response on my part... weird.
And yes, worse still, I'm LAZY
Wah...Nice long review!
Am biologically half Hakka and half Peranakan BUT culturally 100% Peranakan. I consider myself a Peranakan. I ALWAYS get the "Bananaman, OCBC" crap flung at me. I look very Chinese but when I start to speak, you know that I cannot speak the language for nuts. Whenever people give me the "why you Chinese dunno how to speak Chinese?" I'd sweetly tell them that I'm a Nyonya. If they give me crap like "but still Chinese what? How come cannot speak Chinese?", I'll tell them not so sweetly that my mother tongue happens to be Baba Malay as I am after all born and bred in Melaka. Lainlah if Baba from Penang.
I guess it's the norm for people to ASSUME that one speaks Chinese just because one looks Chinese. Bah....wake up and smell the sambal belacanlah!
Hi Spot
I so wanted to watch AGFI too. It sounded interesting in the promo. Somewhat glad I didn't, but still, the songs ....
Excellent write-up as usual.
About this Chinese things, yes, I do regret not taking those POL clasess more seriously. But heck, the teacher wasn't very good either.
Though there are many aspects of being Chinese, I believe that language is one of the most important. Without being able to read Chinese, one is automatically excluded from a wealth of Chinese knowledge and books - history, literature, beliefs, etc.
As you said, the context and the nuances would be lost when translated in English. Also, how many Chinese books get translated anyway?
And Carmen Soo can't really act, can she? Saw her in a play once early this year. She had a small role and yes, all she did was to look pretty. I found her little-girl voice annoying too at the time.
BJ - I've always thought of Snowie as Chinese. :D
You raise an interesting point. Does that mean you would answer Mei Lee's question - "I go to a Malay school. I don't speak Chinese. Am I still Chinese?" - with a "No"? Assuming, of course, that Mei Lee adopts "Western" culture 100%.
I would disagree. Mei Lee is Chinese. So are the Peranakans. Both have adopted other cultures.
In fact, the word "Peranakan" flows from peranakan cina - meaning "descendants of Chinese". The Peranakans after all, are descended from the Straits Settlement (Penang, Malacca & Singapore) Chinese who adopted Malay culture for the purpose of assimilation.
Many Peranakan customs have very strong Chinese elements, particularly those in respect of birth, marriage and death.
My ex-colleague's husband is a Chinese brought up by Indian parents. He is Hindu, speaks Tamil, was raised and lives as an Indian and has an Indian name. He's as white/fair as snow and obviously, can't speak a word of Chinese.
But he's always stated his race as Chinese, though he thinks of himself as Indian.
Memang complicated.
It is wrong to be scornful of non-Chinese speaking, Chinese people as some kind of disgrace to the Chinese race.
But justification in the form of denying being Chinese, in response to such scorn, is also not right.
It is wrong to be scornful of non-Chinese speaking, Chinese people as some kind of disgrace to the Chinese race.
well said! there was this chinese language teacher in my sec school who would tell my chinese-literate classmates to study real hard so as not to lose out to us 'bananas'. *rolling eyes*
i am chinese =D
i'm also peranakan/a nyonya. but being one does not preclude me from being the other. as you've correctly pointed out, the peranakan chinese have strong chinese elements in their customs, but have adapted to and adopted local malay practices as well. seeing as all this cultural assimilation was happening at least 7 to 8 generations ago, obviously, things are all a bit of a blur now and it’s hard to pinpoint what comes from where. proud as i am of my rich cultural heritage (and ashamed at the same time that i know so little about it!), i dont think anyone of peranakan cina descent can deny that they're chinese. just because one does not speak the language and has differences in practices of customs and food does not mean that one's roots are not firmly planted in olden-day china. where else comes the concept of ancestral worship, to quote just ONE practice.
that is why even though i would not on pain of death want to go LIVE in present-day china, and have much much scorn, concern and dismay for the greedy capitalists they have become, i am PROUD of my chinese ancestry, culture, heritage and history and like quite a few earlier commentators, rather regretful that i never wanted to learn during chinese language lessons in school!
it’s hard, isn’t it, when one wants to be a ‘good’ chinese – but would never be chinese enough for one’s chinese relatives, particularly the champion-of-all-chinese-schools-great-granduncle; a ‘good’ nyonya girl – but could hardly claim that when one can’t even cook a decent ‘pong-teh’; and a modern independent i-LIKE-english-and-i-earn-my-own-living-and-i-will-live-how-i-like kinda girl!
i don't have a point, i'm just ramblin' away...
Well, we have to bear in mind that Chinese is not just one language. Mandarin was largely a northern dialect, and did not become widely spoken probably until the Qing dynasty - I might be wrong, but Mandarin only became the official language with the formation of the PRC. So, not being able to speak Mandarin doesn't necessarily mean that one doesn't speak 'Chinese'.
Spot, on Mei Lee's question/statement about going to a malay school and not being able to speak chinese. This was something I forgot to mention, but I've actually seen people using this excuse to say that they're not chinese, but in the 'secrecy' of their own home, converse in fluent chinese dialects to their family.
Spot, I do agree with you that Peranakans are Chinese and my apologies if I do sound like am denying that fact. The point of my comment (Ceh! I do actually have one this time) is that am just cheesed off that people naturally assume that a very Chinese looking me would be able to sprout beautiful Cantonese/Mandarin/Hokkien and get all judgemental when I tell them that I do not speak the language very well or not at all. It is as if am a "bad Chinese" for not being able to speak the common dialects.
It is quite sad actually that coming from a multicultural country like Malaysia that people still has this rigid mindset that Oriental looking people are Chinese and therefore MUST be able to speak Chinese. The funny thing is that people think I'm Malay just because am able to converse reasonbly well in Malay. Hehehe....Memang complicated!
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