By Adeeb Fazah
Four Horse Road is a highly entertaining promenade theatre experience created by The Theatre Practice. It takes audiences into the decades of history that sit discreetly in the nooks and crevices of Waterloo Street as well as its immediate vicinity. This iteration of Four Horse Road comes hotly anticipated following the multiple roadblocks that hindered the production at different points, including a global pandemic and a fire that took place merely a week before this iteration of the show was meant to open. Needless to say, a lot of persistence by the team behind the show meant that I got to see the show this time, and this collective hard work on the project more than paid off.
What struck me was the sheer scale of the work: it is a complex tapestry of scenes taking place concurrently and consecutively in various spaces along a stretch of buildings on Waterloo Street. Audiences are divided into smaller groups and then led by silent guides to the various scenes where we sit or stand, and meet different characters, some even interacting with us. The entire show takes place over 2 hours with no intermission – the walks between each scene being your only breaks. One thing audiences will learn at the end of the show is that you would not see all of the scenes, just a combination that is specific to your group, though some of these scenes do overlap when groups converge at the same place. This has all been mapped out and carefully planned for a seamless audience experience.
The play written by Jonathan Lim makes use of real historical anecdotes, architecture, and characters to inspire the stories in each scene. The scenes I got to see were fun, intense, humorous, intelligent and mysterious. For example, a simple yet mood-boosting two-hander titled ‘Watermelon Garden’ is inspired by Sin Ma Midnite Bar in the Victoria Building of the 1980s. This bar was easily recognised by its mural of women and watermelons. The scene is one that tells of the endearing relationship between a performer (Ang Xiao Ting) and a frequent customer (CHIA), performed with such charisma and charm to much of the audience’s delight. This scene takes place in the Practice Tuckshop – a clever use of the Theatre Practice’s communal eating space that made for a perfect fit for the scene. The space was even fitted with a wall-to-wall mural of the aforementioned women and watermelons, a nice tribute to a time (and place) gone by.
Other scenes included thrillers that kept me on the edge of my seat, such as ‘Bus Hijack’. This was the most theatrically staged scene, taking place within a curtained-off area in The Theatre Practice’s black box featuring some memorable performances courtesy of Yeo Lyle and Izzul Irfan. In ‘May Blossom’, a big cast of characters converge in a tense showdown, where cultures and loyalties collide. This scene was tightly-paced and the performers worked well together to tell a wartime story taking place in a restaurant. It incorporated the audience as guests in the restaurant (we were even served tea) with the characters surrounding us – a rather dynamic and immersive use of the space that made for a memorable theatrical experience.
In fact, space played an important role in scenes, serving simultaneously as the backdrop as well as co-conspirator and trigger to some of the drama taking place. A prime example of this was ‘The Temple and the Hotel’ where two men meet in the back alley between The Theatre Practice and Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts. Two strangers on the curbside with two hardly-related things to do in that narrow alley – a meeting made for a brilliant clash of cultures with a surprising ending.
The theatrical design was not spared in these tricky spaces. Actors were on microphones which helped to amplify their voices for the larger more challenging spaces, and sound design by Sandra Tay was intentionally atmospheric when it needed to be, but breezy and playful when the scene called for it. This was also incorporated into the walkways between scenes, where speakers emitted not only sound along footpaths and stairwells but also light for audiences to see. This was all done in a rather understated fashion that enhanced the audience experience from a creative but also logistical perspective. I can only imagine the vast extent of work that had gone into the design of the production, which would have involved close communication and constant negotiation with the logistical makeup of the entire work.
An aspect of the work that would have also been a huge undertaking is that of language. The play employs the use of multiple languages, including but not limited to English, Malay, Mandarin, Tamil, Hokkien, and Japanese. Further, some characters who spoke in a certain language came from a different culture and hence would have a different accent. Some characters spoke in multiple languages – one language to a set of characters, and another to a specific character. This was the case in ‘May Blossom’ where a German Nazi officer spoke English, a Japanese Kempeitai major spoke in both Japanese and Mandarin and restaurant staff spoke in both Mandarin and Malay. The intertwining of languages was astonishing, firstly because the actors were well trained and rehearsed for them, but secondly, because these languages could be played out in a believable and naturalistic way that furthered the scene’s action without flinching.
There were many moments of confusion for me. But I took much delight at the utter chaos before me, a web so intricately and skilfully spun, for me to untangle. There were so many moments where my limited understanding of languages outside of English and Malay made me go, “Huh?” and yet I found ways into the drama through the performance – the blocking, the facial expressions, the postures, the breathing, the inflections. Of course, a part of me knew I was missing some of the details. A part of me wanted surtitles, like other shows in theatres where you would translate the unfamiliar into the familiar and project that onto a black screen. But perhaps in ‘May Blossom’ it worked well in creating that air of mystery, surprise, and deception.
In the prologue, we are greeted by three actors who speak different languages while welcoming audience members into the venue. Once we were seated, they went on to talk about the languages they spoke. This would be a simple preamble to what followed, which called for us, the audience, to take care of each other the way members of a kampung do. They encouraged us to ask for help when needing translations, and to conversely render translating assistance to fellow audience members who needed it. This was a way for them to set up the experience as one which will have many languages – so many that no one person would likely understand everything being uttered. On the other hand, it would also set up the show as one which will intentionally leave the audience to come with an open mind and an open heart, ready to put in their half of the work. Would you be ready to help, or to ask for help? How much would you do to satisfy your curiosity about the stories unfolding before you?
I see this as a provocation, a challenge. I gathered early on that the prologue was rewritten in response to criticism of the show’s earlier incarnation that purported language and culture to be hindrances to the understanding of the work. The scenes seem to have mostly remained intact (with some adjustments here and there), and yet no surtitles have been added. This would be intentional. In my opinion, this is a challenge for the audience to look closely at the stories of the past. A time when languages coexisted in single scenarios. Where speaking multiple tongues was normal. Where languages merely were. Instead of being a hindrance to understanding, they were multipliers of meaning and richness in the everyday. Perhaps a post-CMIO society might look like pre-CMIO Singapore.
In the same vein, the show’s impressive programme booklet describes every scene and includes historical research for context and understanding. Beyond having experienced the show, audiences are challenged to read further (64 pages for a programme booklet is no joke). You want the full story? Here you go. The stories told in Four Horse Road, layered with mystery, laced with doses of comedy, encoded in the myriad languages spoken, shrouded in the artistry of the entire village at The Theatre Practice, are only just the beginning of our understanding of ourselves. The stories are all there for us to learn from, and they are all around us. If only we bothered to stop, look and listen, with an open mind and heart.
Writer’s Statement
Each response published on Critics Circle Blog is paired with a statement from the writer where their politic, entry point, purpose, and intended audience is made clear.
I had seen the first staging of Four Horse Road, but a lot of my memory is foggy. For this review, I stepped back into the world of Four Horse Road many years later, a slightly different person after years of life (and theatre) experience. I remember being taken by the work, but forgot why. With this review, I refresh my memory and find new appreciation for the gargantuan production put up by the formidable Theatre Practice team.
This response to ‘Four Horse Road‘ was written at the invitation of The Theatre Practice, who provided our writer with a complimentary ticket in order to write the review.
Further Responses
For the 2023 run:
Clement Yong for The Straits Times
For the 2020 run:
For the 2018 run:
Corrie Tan for ArtsEquator
Max in Arts Republic
Benson Ang for The Straits Times
Four Horse Road
Venue: 54 Waterloo Street (The Theatre Practice), Centre 42 at 42 Waterloo Street, and the environs
Performed: 4 Aug- 3 Sept, 2023
Producing Company: The Theatre Practice
Playwright: Jonathan Lim
Director: Kuo Jian Hong
Assistant Director: Ang Xiao Ting, Isabella Chiam
Cast: Ebi Shankara, Izzul Irfan, Yeo Lyle, Cheryl Tan Yun Xin, Ella Wee, Elle Cheng Li Ling, Mandy Neo, Meryllyn-Faith Tan, Niklaus Chia, R Chandran, Joel Tan, Ang Xiao Ting, CHIA, Seah Janice, Lynn Chia, Al-Matin Yatim, Sonya Wong, Ng Mun Poh, Jodi Chan, Andrew Mowatt, Benjamin Koh, Justin Lee, Elisha Beston, Wendy Toh, Isabella Chiam, Hang Qian Chou
Lighting/Projection Designer: Genevieve Peck
Sound Designer: Sandra Tay
Set Designer: Szu-Feng Chen
Props Designer: Chan Lee Lee
Costume Designer: Max.Tan
Music Composer & Arranger: August Lum
Hair Designer: Ashley Lim
Make-up Designer: Bobbie Ng from The Make Up Room
Accent Coach: Petrina Kow
Prologue Video Production Team: Edit&Play
Producer/Production Manager: Joey Cheng
Assistant to Producer/Assistant to Production Manager: Victoria Wong
Technical Director/Set Coordinator/Set Dresser: Lee Bee Bee
Production Coordinator: Jesselyn Ng
Master Electrician: Peter Chi
Sound Coordinator: Rachel Ong
Stage Manager: Woon Siew Yin
Assistant Stage Managers: Bobo Sing, Wins Li
Show Crew: Aileen Tan, Alee Mazrin, Chia Run Jin (RJ), Fizah, Jesselyn Ng, Kenny Lim, Marilyn Ang, Nur Farisah, Rachel Ong, Teo Li Lin, Wong Yun Jie
XIMI Wranglers: Good Work, Jesselyn Ng, Michelle Tan, Victoria Wong, Woon Siew Yin
Production Crew: Chia Run Jin (RJ), Chloe, Darren Lee, Eliezer Chua, Fizah, Misaki, Rachel Ong, Tan Yi Kai
Wardrobe Supervisor: Ng Siaw Hui
Dressers: Chua Jia Ling, Ginnie Tan, Teo Yi Ping
Hair Assistant: Michelle Wai
Make-Up Assistant: The Make Up Room
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