The Chorus; Oedipus, Victoria Theatre, 23 Aug 2014

In contrast to Facing Goya I'd seen the week before (yes -- a terribly delayed review), which required quite a bit of concerted attention and post-processing to properly appreciate, The Chorus; Oedipus was an immediate and effortless delight. It's directed by Jae-Hyung Seo, written by Areum Han, composed by Uzong Choe and choreographed by Eun-Jung Jang. It was first produced by the companies LG Arts Centre and Juk-Dal in 2011.

So here's how the show was mysteriously advertised: as a K-pop musical rendition of Greek tragedy. It inspired terribly little confidence, and I nearly foisted the tickets on someone else. But the rather off-the-mark marketing simply meant that the evening was able to completely blow my expectations out of the water.

The most immediately unique aspect of the show is that the whole thing is conducted on stage. The normal seats are left empty and the audience sits with the cast on the stage itself, at the centre of which is a circular 'arena' on which most of the action takes place. Four pianos nearby provide the accompaniment, and the chorus, when not acting, takes a corner of the stage. Seo's rationale is to harken the piece back to its original Greek theatre format, for the "audience to vividly witness the downfall of Oedipus as closely as the citizens of Thebes did". It is for this reason also that he has highlighted the choral element of Greek theatre, to bring it back to its roots.

The show starts with the folks of Thebes lamenting the drought, and Creon suggesting that avenging Laius' death is the answer to the nation's and Oedipus' woes. The audience is quickly enraptured from the way the citizens swivel their chairs around the circular stage, following Oedipus as he proclaims his resolve. One is viscerally swept up in everything he says as the chorus shifts around him, reflecting their engagement in his words.

Another striking scene is where Oedipus visits the oracle, who reveals the disturbing truth that he was Laius' murderer. The cast transforms into the birds whose prophecies the oracle interprets -- flapping haphazardly and ominously around her. With their hands reaching up into the sky, fingers pointed like beaks ready to strike, they caw sharply with their desperate message of doom.

Simply everything was phenomenal. The acting incomparable, the singing emotive, the choreography complete. It was by the latter that I was really most profoundly impressed -- every movement was heavily imbued with meaning. There is a quickening of the heartbeat in the frantic fights and chases, a real haunting fear as Laius stalks eyeless and desperate across the stage, and a depressing calm as the abandoned baby Oedipus lays silently quivering on the ground. Of note, both Laius and baby Oedipus were played by Sun Pyo Kim, whose expressions and vocalizations were daring and exactly on point for each character or creature he donned.

Subtleties such as these were just a sample of the attention to detail ubiquitous throughout the piece. Not a single stone was left unturned, with every second rich in meaning -- each twitch of the suspicious eye, wiggle of the judgmental finger, or angle at which they turned their bodies away from Oedipus' heinousness. One such moment that stayed with me was where two of the cast are fighting, and one is pushed into a piano. As he falls on it he plays a discordant chord, marking the moment in the score as well as in action. Also of note, even before the show started, there were various complaints about how hot the theatre was -- but ushers explained that the temperature was at the request of the director, who presumably used it as yet another means to embed the audience in Thebes.

At the final moment, the curtain of the stage is raised, and Oedipus walks away through the empty audience seats, having banished himself from Thebes. The aisles are dotted with sign posts and random seats are spotlit. The moment he leaves through the theatre entrance, thunder sounds -- rain has returned as the prophecy foretold. And the audience leapt to its feet.

Kevin Spacey, Richard III, Esplanade Theatre, 19 Nov 2011

Having just watched Horrible Bosses, it's a bit strange to now review Kevin Spacey's dramatic Shakespearan performance of Richard III. That character wasn't all too far removed from Richard though -- equal parts dirtbag and hilarity.

The production on the whole was a magnificent thrill. I'd say credit for the evening goes to Sam Mendes' direction. The piece was brought effectively into modern times -- the set, the costumes, the visual effects, the music, all helping to show the timelessness of Shakespeare's work. Having never read Richard III, I was surprised by how palatable the evening was to my sadly plebeian literacy. That said, I would have loved the chance to have read and studied it beforehand. (The evening suggested to me that Shakespeare is better served in a semester-long college course than a one night play, where you don't have the time to pick up all the delicious complexities lying behind the written word. Guess I'll just have to watch it several times over.)

The cast was generally brilliant. Their (and I suppose Mendes' as well) interpretations were rich and thoughtful -- transporting you to that secondary layer of the character despite not fully understanding the language. Some though, like Lady Anne, sadly portrayed the character the way I did in a prepubescent production of Romeo and Juliet -- lots of shouting and grand proclamations, in an excessive dramaticism indicative of no interpretation of the character whatsoever. Sorry, Lady Anne.

And to Spacey, the promotional highlight -- his Richard was full-bodied and complex, so much so that by the end I had sympathized with his insanity, and lamented his misunderstood life. He separated himself so effectively from his murders that I too, found him temptingly innocent. I most appreciated each tick Spacey embodied Richard with, each double take, each open and close of his body as he gained and lost confidence in turn.

My biggest delight with the show was probably in the music and set. The drums (comprising the entirety of the music) effectively bookended each scene with curt, suspenseful transitions. Aided by projections of the scene titles and the illusory clouds floating by, the effect was truly cinematographic. The stage, a simple white room, was surprisingly efficient, serving as both a cold tower of imprisonment and a warm family home. My favorite was when the up-stage end of the stage opened for the second half of the play, revealing walls cracked and gray, much like the added depravity of Richard's inner world come the latter acts.

Anyway at the end of it my only gripe was perhaps with the over-modernization of the text. Jokes were gleaned from the script which were only funny by a modern context, which made me wonder how fidelic one really has to be to the text when showcasing Shakespeare. Something I'll dwell on before my next Shakespearean play, which this one has nicely whetted my appetite for.