Judge, Jury

Watched Haresh Sharma’s Those Who Can’t, Teach yesterday, held by the talents that were final year Lasalle students.

The technicals were more than just a marvel; seven weeks to produce a 2 hour long play, flanked on 3 sides by the audience (vocal and visual issues ahoy),  with 4 actors and actresses playing double, multilingual and multiracial roles, with a set that came together like interlocking fingers. They had windows that served as those for the classroom, nursing home and staffroom, and even a tortoise tank that had a light switch on and off along with the stage lights.

Yes, 7 weeks was definitely detrimental to their lines (stammers aplenty, unfortunately) and I felt that their transitions were a little too abrupt.

I was still blown away by the feat they’d accomplished and heartened that, in retrospect, NUS Stage seemed just as competent as well.

There was a scene that wringed my soul dry; when the Malay kid returns 15 years later to meet his teacher (coincidentally on her last day) once more. He asks her if she remembers telling him to try and try again; he thanks her for the hope; he had tried and tried again but failed every single time until he realised that some people were born to fail, and that being called special never really meant anything. Bad timing what with Finals in a week, but I felt terrible after that.

I’ve a new lens to peer through to the world with.

May you, your loved ones or even anyone you dislike be healthy and well, and free from all misery. May we be glad.

I spent the walk back from Kent Ridge Station singing along to Vertigo.