Boeing Boeing boring.

I once told a colleague that I am generally not a fan of local theatre because the productions are either too slapstick, too poorly produced or directed, or too pretentious. She was rather peeved by that statement, being a staunch supporter, and probably thought me traitorous for uttering such a statement since I took Theatre Studies as a subject in university.

After a year of trying to cram theories by the likes of Stanislavsky, Brecht and Grotowski into my steadfastly un-theatrical head, I dropped the subject like a hot potato, but have continued to patronise local productions from time to time, mostly because many of my former classmates have gone on to become full-time actors. I nevertheless choose the productions that I watch carefully – they have to be neither too high-brow nor too low, and they have to be reasonably priced so I don’t come away feeling like I’ve been bilked. On average, I watch two to three productions a year, and I count them successes if I leave without a migraine each time.

This year, however, hasn’t been too busy on the theatre-going front. So when K suggested that we watch Boeing Boeing, which I think caught his eye because of the marketing collaterals showing Emma Yong, Wendy Kweh and Chermaine Ang flying about in skimpy lingerie and not because of stellar reviews, I said, “why not”?

Within the first five minutes of the show, it became patently clear that I should have said the opposite instead and that I was in for two hours of torture filled with tasteless cultural jokes, cringe-inducing physical comedy, shouting, screaming and exaggerated accents. It got so bad at times that I could barely understand what was being said. As Junko the Japanese stewardess, Emma grated on my nerves the least, but then Emma is always fabulous. Siti Khalijah, who played Minah the maid, was also marginally entertaining. Adrian Pang and Daniel York? Downright awful, the pair of them.

This is the second time that Wild Rice have staged Boeing Boeing and I really have to wonder at the sophistication of local theatre audiences. And mind you, supporting local theatre isn’t cheap. K coughed up more than $100 for our circle seats, but I didn’t complain because any closer to the stage, and I might have whipped my Mulberry bag at Adrian Pang’s head to make him stop talking in that atrocious British?American?Singaporean? accent of his.

I really hope the next production we watch will redeem this painful experience. That’s two hours of my life I can never get back.

August 16, 2010

Posted in Life at large.