Obsessive desire takes centrestage for multidisciplinary adaptation of Yukio Mishima novel.

Making its Asian premiere last Sunday as part of the 2023 Asia-Europe Cultural Festival, Estonian director and choreographer Teet Kask’s The Golden Temple has been nothing short of a miracle. From multiple performers pulling out days before the show, to finding replacements willing to put in the work to learn everything while hopping an evening plane down to Singapore, just the fact that it had successfully come together in such a short time is already incredible enough.

But more than that, for a multidisciplinary performance, The Golden Temple seems to know exactly what it wants to prioritise, while giving all four of its performers more or less ample time to show off their abilities. Inspired by Japanese author Yukio Mishima’s novel The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, The Golden Temple is a production that emphasises themes of beauty and desire. The production loosely follows the story of a young monk who becomes obsessed with the golden temple, so much that it occupies his every thought, and is left with no choice but to destroy it to be set free.

Kask’s production is avant-garde and abstract in its adaptation of the text, with no narration whatsoever, leaving it entirely to audiences to interpret the performance. Instead, what Kask has designed is a joint presentation of multiple art forms to turn the performance into a feast for the senses. The performance begins with all four performers onstage, with Laura Põldvere singing the opening notes. Dressed in a black outfit, her sleeves a mass of fringe, she resembles a raven or black bird, ominous as she traverses the stage. Moving towards a small, Jenga-like wooden tower on a platform, representing the golden temple, she loosens several blocks, as if a portent of disaster to come.

The screen behind, slanted at an angle to shift our gaze towards the temple, is somewhat discomforting, and with video artist Taavi Miisu Varm’s projections, we soon enter a rather hypnotic state, as the monochrome screen morphs into forests or rotating spiral shapes. It seems to reflect the disoriented mind of the young monk completely taken by the beauty of the temple, played by dancer Kyoshiro Oshima. Oshima moves with purpose, feverish as he exerts all his effort, impressive with how much force is put into every move. There is internal torture externalised as his mind is filled with visions of the temple, unable to shift focus to anything else, a single ‘brick’ from the Jenga tower given its own spotlight on the floor, forever on his mind.

Over the course of the performance, this ebbs and shifts, repetitive and increasingly intense. Oshima moves through several phases, including performing duets with dancer Anita Kurõljova, as if finding temporal escape from the weight of the temple with momentary love. The two of them move as one, seemingly providing hope that one can find an alternative to the obsession. But this too is short-lived, and upon realising that Oshima will never truly be able to let go of his obsession, she relents, allowing him to return to this addiction, relinquishing their relationship.

All this is supported by cellist Robert Choi, who supports the original music by Estonian composers Timo Steiner and Sander Molder. Choi is almost constantly onstage, dressed in black pants and a top that exposes his entire torso, with black sleeves. Choi almost feels like a dark counterpart to Oshima, his soul itself perhaps, as he experiments and plays his cello. There are times he plucks the strings to create an uneasy rhythm, or even strikes them with his bow, and of course, sliding his bow across the strings, crafting a haunting wail.

In all, the obsession is characterised by noise, where at one point, Oshima even seems to give in to it when we hear the music turn electronic, as if in a club, as he allows it to take over him completely while he indulges, the lighting dynamic and shining down in tiny bursts. Beauty is both ecstasy and torture, driving us to extremes, and there comes a point where such overstimulation is what will drive us to the end. Oshima seems to realise this, and the only way to overcome the addiction and obsession is to destroy the thing itself, in a dramatic single motion as he knocks over the tower, while flames fill the screen behind, representing how the monk burns the temple down in the novel.

The Golden Temple toes the line between fever dream and nightmare, where something seemingly innocuous can mutate into something that totally, absolutely consumes one’s life. What is clear that such desires cannot be denied, lest they destroy someone from the inside out, and in coming out of that trance, there is both the sense of loss and relief. Põldvere returns to close the show with her song, now less terrifying and perhaps, harkening the end of an ordeal. Is it a blessing or a curse that one has been released from the clutches of such obsession? Perhaps a combination of both, as we are left to ponder the mystery of beauty and the power of desire, as the performance draws to a close.

The Golden Temple played on 22nd October 2023 at SOTA Studio Theatre as part of the 2023 Asia-Europe Cultural Festival.

Production Credits:

Director and Choreographer Teet Kask Music Composers Timo Steiner, Sander Mölder Performers Kyoshiro Oshima, Anita Kurõljova Singer Laura Põldvere Cellist Robert Choi   Set Designer Ülar Mark  Lighting Designer Margus Vaigur  Video Artist Taavi Miisu Varm  Production *birdname Producer Tiiu Tamm  With the support of Ministry of Culture of Estonia, Embassy of Estonia in Singapore