“Have you ever heard life passes us by like a nightmare?” meditates a lone figure surrounded by her ghosts. She tries to touch them, play with them and almost succeeds, but she’s ultimately abandoned and left with nothing but the memory of their deaths.
Thus passes Otherland — as a series of vignettes thematically tied together by ideas of war, insider/outsider, political control, immense loss and how people cope with all of the above.
Presented at B-floor Theater, a re-purposed auditorium with a U of seats, Subtitles are projected in a discreet corner and occasionally obscured by the actors moving in and out of the space. The set is lean, very lean. Instead aggressive movement and carefully orchestrated lighting create the worlds the play drifts through.
These worlds are ones of extreme poverty, disillusionment, and insecurity. A crowd of figures in Chadors skitters about the stage, bumping into each other until one is shot. Two nearby soldiers rush over to investigate the murder, but are confronted with the body and a crowd of grievers. There’s no way to write a happy ending for this one: Two men with guns surrounded by a group of people they’re scared of and can’t communicate with.
The costumes are a mix of street clothes and a few fanciful items. The clothing is simple: splashes of color here and there, a couple of uniforms, and at the end a handful of stunning masks. Simple suits this play. It keeps the action grounded in reality and allows the audience to empathize with the cast.
Exceptionally well-costumed is the scene parodying political propaganda films. The audience is dropped onto a movie set, complete with a cinematographer, director, and assistants holding reflectors. The star, a very blonde and blue-eyed actor, plays the Thai hero. Clearly he is out of place and makes for some chuckles when he calls home to brag about his new gig. His nemesis is a blinged out communist wearing a gold vest. He’s told by the director, “Be bad: just keep saying I’m bad, I’m bad, I’m bad.” He complies only to be told off by his pregnant wife and cursed by his blind drag mama.
The play itself is not a play in the classical sense. There are a few storylines that appear more than once, but for the most part it’s a series of actions, interspersed with dialogues.
The script is based on Kanokphong Songsomphan book of short stories. Written in 1996 and winner of the S.E.A. Write Award. The stories reflect on conflict in Thailand. Songsomphan was brought up during times of political tumultuousness. His village was caught between the State Military Army and the Communist Party. One can only imagine what he must have seen.
Since then times have changed, but as the director Teerawat Mulvilai notes, Thailand is still in political conflict. He writes “death and loss seem to have become ‘normal’ in Thai society.” Otherland is a cry against that normalization. It hunts out complacency and forces sight where blindness would be easier.
Mulvilai is helped by an exceptional cast; they hurl their bodies through space, collapse on each other, literally climb the walls, and execute more than a dozen costume changes without missing a beat. There is no weak link. This is an ensemble of unique voices that all possess strength and courage.
As the play progresses the drama only tightens. Towns, relationships, and even memories are all manipulated and taken advantage of by a callous political machine. An operatic climax follows a nightmarish attempt at utopia. Macabre men in papier-mâchémasks arm the cast and force them into warfare. The lights dim, smoke swirls and the audience is left overwhelmed.
At the end of some plays it’s hard to clap. It’s not because the play was poorly written, or the performances were awful, quite the opposite. Instead it’s the subject matter and its execution whose power precludes you from cheering. You almost need an entire evening to unwind after being plunged into desperate situations with no easy answers.
Director
Teerawat Mulvilai
Assistant Director
Sarut Komalittipong
Lighting Designer
Pavinee Samakkabutr
Producer
Jaa Phantachat
Cast: Kris Sanguanpiyapand, Lapin Laosunthara, Robin Schroeter, Thanis Jamraschai, Thana Sheanakul, Pichayes Jaitaharn, Stephen Thomas, Punika Rangchaya, Beer Yingsuwannachai, Waywiree Ittianakul, and Worachet Khieochan
For information: contact B-Floor at 089 167 4039 or bfloortheatre@gmail.com or visit www.bfloortheatre.com
