Quite frankly,
the synopsis for the work is quite awful, sounding more like a diploma
graduation show: "Life may be seen like a game of chess, entangled within
the infinite existence of the chess set in endless matches [...] A work
that is a reflection of and closely related to the realities of daily
life, it explores the unspoken gaps and boundaries that divide, tensed
relationships, schemes that plot against and make use of each other,
rivalry for authority, ridicule and hypocrisy that lie between the hearts
of humans..."
On a scale of 1 to 10, I honestly have to say the cringe factor for
that little blurb alone is about 8. Checkmate promised such
little ground-breaking or thought-provoking content that I expected
it to be what I call "emo-dance", a dance of expressions without justification.
Tiong admittedly said, in the programme notes, that his objective was
not to be deep but to be clear: "Though this may not strike you as deeply
as desired, I am glad to have simply shared and said my piece." I appreciated
the humility but thought it misplaced. It was just not good enough.
Since I take contemporary dance choreography seriously, I hold the choreographer
to task to "read" his own work critically. One cannot evade the cultural
content in one's work. Whether meaning is intended or not, it is the
artist's job to know how his work is going to speak, which language
it is speaking with, whom he is speaking to. Depth must come through.
Still, we must judge a work on its own terms. In this case, it was
strategic to focus our expectations on the piece's formalism since the
choreographer had clearly placed all his attention on composition, musicality
and form. And indeed, by this standard, Checkmate proved to
be a tour de force. Tiong's approach was indeed simple but simple in
a way that exhibited discipline, self-awareness and acumen. Insofar
as the work was a personal response to past emotional experiences, through
Checkmate, I felt that the man knew exactly what he had felt,
understood how to translate that as music and dance and took us through
a spectacular journey that left no stone unturned. In the sense that
depth equals thoroughness, Tiong's work pulled out all the stops. It
was deep, emotionally heartfelt on the part of the choreographer, and
reflected an artist who is mature in his craft.
Dance is often loved for its ability to drown one in the moment. But
whether one is the dancer or a member of the audience, it's not often
that dance can take one's breath away. I remember when I first saw Ballet
Frankfurt as a student in London and how a twenty-minute piece was so
sensational that I was clutching my face in disbelief, actually wanting
the piece to stop. My fellow Singaporean and friend, Stephanie and I
sat silent and still next to each other during the intermission that
followed. I was actually in tears. We were stunned that a dance work
could be that sublime. We were proud that we had been part of something
amazing.
Years later, now much more cynical, I am glad that Tiong's work took
me close to that place of wonder again. It didn't take long for Checkmate
to mesmerize. After a stunning solo by Chiew Peishan of Singapore's
Frontier Danceland, Taiwanese dancer Wen Tsu-Wei, who had been watching
her from a distance, ended his own short sequence by thumping his fist
on a long narrow podium. This immediately started a soundtrack that
sounded like a buddhist chant - a voluminous and bewitching sound -
to which Chiew danced on her own podium across the stage. The choreography
was of conventional contemporary styles but here, blending beautifully
with the grandeur of the buddhist chants, moment after moment of alternating
intensity and gentleness, strength and grace were portrayed. Tiong was
in command of his work from beginning to end. There was never a moment
of slack.
The eye continued to be kept busy throughout the show and was rewarded
with movements that echoed each other, reminding us of what we had just
seen and hinting at what was to come. Stillness and silence, in contrast
with movement and sound, were key motifs employed in different fashions.
As some of the eight dancers sat still, immobilized by their sense of
dread, others spun round and round and jumped onto the platforms as
if restless and undecided on the ideal state of being. At other times,
the dancers articulated the frustrations of a lover mad with rage in
the midst of an argument. But they never allowed actual sounds to depart
from their mouths. Their face would contort and their bodies would bend
over from forcing out soundless words. The idea of silence within sound,
perhaps demonstrating an affinity to buddhism, is interestingly rendered
here not as a source of peace but as tension and desperation.
I suppose Tiong sees man and woman in clear dichotomy, like the black
and white pieces on a chess board but I think this unquestioning use
of the cliché of the gender war, complete with the man as stoic
vs the capricious woman, was a little bit disappointing with its one-dimensional
treatment. Also, the work began with a conflict but that conflict did
not appear to have been resolved in any way at the end. We shared one
climactic moment after another with the dancers who first appeared in
solos, then duets, then finally as an ensemble but the purpose of that
remained unclear but then again, did this really matter?
The strong cast of dancers - four male, four female - was a large one
for the studio theatre. Amongst them were some virtuosic dancers and
Tiong seemed to have stretched them to their full abilities. My favourite
was Wen who displayed an amazing grasp of the choreography and understanding
of his body. I grabbed the edge of my middle-of-front-row seat, ogling
this impossibly beautiful dancer and transforming back into a teenage
boy hero-worshipping some Taiwanese pop idol. (OK, so I sound a teeny-bit
partial and unprofessional.)
Tiong also made full use of the stage, which was bare and wide with
the wings removed, most effectively. The stage was always richly layered
with different textures. The supporting designs for the work were just
as well-considered. Colours in the work were cool and sombre, as witnessed
not only in the set but also in the lighting and costume designs. The
stage was awash with blues, magentas and greys, underpinning the melancholy
mood of the work.
The Straits Times reviewer Tara Tan gave Checkmate
a less-than-glowing review. To be fair, to anyone with a trained eye
and a preference for postmodern posturing, Checkmate may not
only come across as dated but its hyperbolic expressionism, which is
not quite agreeable with the 21st century zeitgeist, will likely make
a critic wince. However, I felt humbled by Tiong's effort. Like Tan,
I too enjoyed the "lightning-quick ferocity" and the "unusual and mesmerizing
positions" of the dancers' bodies but unlike her, I did not feel that
the "sullen faces and angry gestures" lay beyond the threshold of tolerability.
Contrary to what Tan said, I don't think Tiong's was a "highly gestural
choreography" either. There was the use of gestures but only some. The
dance work was full of dance, dance of the exuberant sort, dance that
makes you tap your feet, dance that makes you want to stand up and dance
along... but only if you allow it to. The work was clearly a lot more
than those clichés. It won me over with its sincerity which,
trite as it sounds, is often a missing ingredient in many performance
works today.
Emo-dance? As I walked out of the Esplanade, I felt foolish for pre-judging
the work; although I do maintain that the programme blurb did not do
Checkmate justice and should be re-written if the work is to
be performed again. (And I certainly hope it will be! Come on Esplanade!
Take this overseas!) Emo-dance, if I still want to call it that, can
be wonderful in the right hands, just as conceptual work can be plain
boring (and often is) in the wrong ones.
Daniel Kok is an artist/choreographer. Daniel is an associate artist
with the Substation and was placed at the top of the Faces to Watch
list by the Straits Times in 2007. He currently teaches the
Art Elective Programme at Hwa Chong Institution. |
"The choreography was of conventional contemporary styles, blended
beautifully with the grandeur of buddhist chants... moment after moment
of alternating intensity and gentleness"
Credits
Artistic Director / Choreographer: Albert Tiong
Lighting Designer: Dorothy Png
Costume Designer: Tammy L Wong
Set Designer: Albert Tiong
Stage Manager / Set Consultant: Tay Huey Meng
Assistant Stage Manager: Cecilia Chow
Performers: Ang Ai Jia, Chang Yao-Chung, Chiew Pei
Shan, Lee Wei-Chun, Seow Yi Qing, Tseng Ting-Kai, Wen Tsu-Wei and Zhang
Xuesong
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