HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Friday, January 04, 2008 beauty world i tagged along as a toddler to watch beauty world (cha cha cha cha) with my mother when it first came out. i didn't understand it because i was too young. i still remember the theme song ("beauty world cha cha cha cha") because music never fades (when i played for the ailing, dementia patients in ithaca, they still remembered songs like "amazing grace" and "god bless america," and listened despite claiming to be deaf). returning to beauty world after 20 years is as much a return as it is departure. when the owner of beauty world steps back into the cabaret, he says "it's been so long since i came back to beauty world, and it's different but still the same." such self-referentiality is as much a referencing to the play as it is a referencing to history. for me, the return to singapore is as much a return as it is a departure. ivy seeks to return to the past in search of the lost father, and in the process returns to her mother, but this found mother who is the cruel cabaret queen, departs from her preconceptions of mother. her return to the distant past, is a betrayal of her immediate past at the same time--she falls for ah hock, becomes a cabaret girl. i used to think that change was betrayal, returning this time, i realise change is not betrayal. the worst betrayal is the facade of constancy that masks change. the musical was a spoof of everywhere, a bit like a confused modernity, but with songs like "single in singapore" and "no class" and lyrics like "pout a little more, or it shows you're from johor," the slightly rascist and xenophobic humor, the hokkien swearing, the play resonates of home. neo swee lin in the mama-san role is really neo swee lin in growing up. ah hock is really gary in growing up. perhaps nostalgia isn't a longing for a mythicised past, but a longing for a past we did have and could not articulate. and the humor is the same apologetic humor that characterizes singapore humor--self-deprecating, over-the-top, aware of its fundamental un-funniness. the crazy vacillating between singlish and queen's english. and the cigarettes. and the number of cigarettes that was lit on stage reminds me of theaterworks, my first cigarette (rolled, furtive, eternally sweet), alan on his motorbike, whatshername on the scooter, hamly pissed off with us interns making a racket, going to the back to light up. that, of course, is history. in the last scene ah hock--the forlorn underdog antihero--watches ivy leave with frankie back to patu pahat. she has to leave beauty world, of course. she doesn't belong to the world of moments. ah hock doesn't say anything. he lights a cigarette. it fails to light up. on the darkened stage, the other cabaret girls hold out their lighters to him, and light them. the whole stage becomes ablaze with little flames from lighters. i came back to singapore from new york, with the notion i had to resist this place. i'd made a lot of decisions, eg, i need to leave, i'm only here for my brother's wedding anyway, and not to fall back in love with here. but singapore, like beauty world, seduces you with the music of the past, and leads you like the voluptuous lulu leads you to a stage where, in spite of change, the music never died. Labels: theater posted by dawn # 10:19 AM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] slowness signed my contract for 308 wait avenue in ithaca, ... the reality cups dog days running towards strong arms thought candle on the water first day home. i'm tired, emotionally exhausted, ... [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Friday, January 04, 2008

beauty world

i tagged along as a toddler to watch beauty world (cha cha cha cha) with my mother when it first came out. i didn't understand it because i was too young. i still remember the theme song ("beauty world cha cha cha cha") because music never fades (when i played for the ailing, dementia patients in ithaca, they still remembered songs like "amazing grace" and "god bless america," and listened despite claiming to be deaf). returning to beauty world after 20 years is as much a return as it is departure.

when the owner of beauty world steps back into the cabaret, he says "it's been so long since i came back to beauty world, and it's different but still the same." such self-referentiality is as much a referencing to the play as it is a referencing to history. for me, the return to singapore is as much a return as it is a departure. ivy seeks to return to the past in search of the lost father, and in the process returns to her mother, but this found mother who is the cruel cabaret queen, departs from her preconceptions of mother. her return to the distant past, is a betrayal of her immediate past at the same time--she falls for ah hock, becomes a cabaret girl. i used to think that change was betrayal, returning this time, i realise change is not betrayal. the worst betrayal is the facade of constancy that masks change.

the musical was a spoof of everywhere, a bit like a confused modernity, but with songs like "single in singapore" and "no class" and lyrics like "pout a little more, or it shows you're from johor," the slightly rascist and xenophobic humor, the hokkien swearing, the play resonates of home. neo swee lin in the mama-san role is really neo swee lin in growing up. ah hock is really gary in growing up. perhaps nostalgia isn't a longing for a mythicised past, but a longing for a past we did have and could not articulate. and the humor is the same apologetic humor that characterizes singapore humor--self-deprecating, over-the-top, aware of its fundamental un-funniness. the crazy vacillating between singlish and queen's english. and the cigarettes. and the number of cigarettes that was lit on stage reminds me of theaterworks, my first cigarette (rolled, furtive, eternally sweet), alan on his motorbike, whatshername on the scooter, hamly pissed off with us interns making a racket, going to the back to light up.

that, of course, is history. in the last scene ah hock--the forlorn underdog antihero--watches ivy leave with frankie back to patu pahat. she has to leave beauty world, of course. she doesn't belong to the world of moments. ah hock doesn't say anything. he lights a cigarette. it fails to light up. on the darkened stage, the other cabaret girls hold out their lighters to him, and light them. the whole stage becomes ablaze with little flames from lighters. i came back to singapore from new york, with the notion i had to resist this place. i'd made a lot of decisions, eg, i need to leave, i'm only here for my brother's wedding anyway, and not to fall back in love with here. but singapore, like beauty world, seduces you with the music of the past, and leads you like the voluptuous lulu leads you to a stage where, in spite of change, the music never died.

Labels: theater

posted by dawn # 10:19 AM

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