Ho Rui An

The narrative set up is dubiously derivative. The tormented, condemned artistic genius. The charismatic rogue and his multiple scandals. The secrets and betrayals. The sexual escapades.

The plot of The Composer, written by Ken Kwek and directed by himself and Tan Kheng Hua, sounds like a mish mash of the most recycled staples of Broadway and Hollywood. The eponymous character, with his multitudes of temptations, bears a suspicious resemblance to the scandalous film director, Guido Contini of Nine while the raunchy premise, hedonistic flirtation and liberal, sexual banter is characteristic of urban relationship dramas in the likes of Sex and the City and Closer.

Better known as the cellist of part of the internationally acclaimed T’ang Quartet, Leslie Tan plays Wendell Ang, the eponymous composer, in an overhyped acting debut. The play opens in a cell, where the musical genius is held for the murder of his wife, Madeleine, played by Tan Kheng Hua. The play unfolds as a series of interrogations between Wendell and his deceased wife, as the latter presses on, almost self-abusively, for every detail of her husband’s multiple extramarital affairs.

The play has its moments and noteworthy performances, but as a whole, it falls flat not because of its unoriginal plot, but its confused direction and unfulfilled potentialities. In all honesty, a part of the plot’s premise vaguely excited me. At the centre of the play is a composer, a musical genius, which can only mean that music will, in one way or another, play a central role. While not expecting an extravagant, lavish musical song and dance, music and choreography take a surprisingly peripheral position in this production. All we see is the dimly illuminated, lone cello and the occasional performance. As a dark, sexual drama, the sleaze factor is disappointingly controlled and the flirtation vapidly tame. Where are the sordid details and raunchiness we have been made to anticipate? Even as a melodrama, the much hankered for sentimentality remains undelivered.

It is difficult to ascertain where the play is really heading and most of the time, it seems that it is equally undecided about itself, lost in limbo among the different genres that it ambitiously attempts to take on. It vacillates precariously between being a more gritty, warts-and-all portraiture of base human desire and a theatrical, sensitive and measured articulation of human psychological complexity and eventually ends up feeling incomplete and unsatisfying.

A large part of the play’s anaemia probably also comes from the lacklustre performance by Leslie Tan. The Composer works best as a character study, but the deliberate and awkward motions of Tan and his perpetually (and stubbornly) pained expressions and speech results in a character that comes across as insipid and one-dimensional. Particularly with the utterly gratuitous lit cigarette brandished in his hand like an indispensible prop, Tan appears more like an addict, rather than a tortured, guilt-ridden wunderkind. There are times when he attempts to play the irresistible rogue and pull a Clive Owen, but they often fail to charm. The musician seduces better with his music, than his utterances, apparently.

The best moments of the play come from the ladies, some of whom are severely underused and too often relegated to becoming human props adorning the set. Tan Kheng Hua is bitterly spiteful with the right amount of vitriol as the betrayed wife. The only letdown is the apparent lack of chemistry with her stage husband, who appears to be in a different play altogether. Wendell’s first mistress, Sonia, played by Tammy L Wong, provides a refreshing foil to Madeline’s dark sophistication and wariness with her unguarded innocence and youthful idealism. While the rest of the ladies are largely forgettable, undeveloped and redundant, the most heartbreaking performance of the play comes from Lez Ann Chong, the young actress who plays the college student, Anne, whose life is devastated by a moment of passion with the teacher and composer she so worships. Chong exudes a charming simplicity as the adolescent girl determined to be taken as more serious than she is. She melds innocence with a willed maturity and intelligence, silently relishing the covert thrill of participating in a tryst and of her venture into the dangerous terrain of adult emotion. When she forcefully withdraws herself away from the relentlessly advancing Wendell, she does so with a look of shock and a defeated voice. It is a moment of self-reckoning, a belated acknowledgement of the horror of innocence lost through foolish adventurism.

Two particular things annoy me about the production, both of which happen to be my pet peeves. First, cigarettes. On stage no less. How much can a lit cigarette illuminate character really? More often than not, the only unintended outcome is its glamourisation. Second, I also take a particular issue with the tokenistic injections of local references. While not abundant, scattershot references stick out like a sore thumb for a narrative that is conceived to be universally accessible, rather than culturally bounded.

The Composer is essentially one of the most conventional treatments that we can expect from such a plot set up. There are visible efforts at differentiation, reinvention and experimentation but they are too often negated by excessive caution and indecision, characteristics that are unfortunately becoming symptomatic of local experimental theatre.

The Composer played at the Esplanade Theatre Studio from the 16 to 20 December 2009.

Rui An also writes here.

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