KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA – A fault line refers to the geographic phenomenon of fractures in the Earth’s crust, potentially leading to earthquakes. Metaphorically speaking, this would then refer to cracks in the relationship between two parties, and perhaps if left unresolved, potentially result in disaster. That happens to be the issue at the heart of new play Fault Lines, which makes its premiere this Thursday at the Petaling Jaya Performing Arts Centre (PJPAC).

Written by Adriana Nordin Manan in her theatre debut, Faults Lines follows Malaysian mother-daughter duo Habsah and Shereen after years of separation, where they reunite when Habsah and other family members travel from Kuala Lumpur to New York City, Shereen’s adopted home. Directed by Ghafir Akbar and starring Putrina Rafie as Shereen, and Fatimah Abu Bakar as Habsah, get ready for a hard-hitting, personal play full of clashes fueled by family dysfunction as they work out their differences.

Speaking to Adriana, Ghafir and Putrina, we found out more about this momentous occasion of producing and putting on an original play, the resonance of moving away from home for greater prospects, and the Malaysian arts scene as a whole. “Having been a translator, a researcher and writer, it was time for the playwright to finally come out after waiting in the wings for so long. For me, playwriting is the meeting point between the cerebral, the intellectual and the creative, and it’s just this ideal form of making art for me,” says Adriana. “Fault Lines was the third title I landed on, and I think I eventually settled on it because of the immutable, invisible dividing lines every society has, whether between cultures or generations, and how we end up navigating these divides we can’t quite bridge.”

Fault Lines is produced by Protagonist Studio, with story development by Cocoon Creative Lab. “I’m glad I get to do all these different things with Protagonist Studio, where I can be a translator and playwright without leaving any of them behind,” says Adriana. “That’s the truth about being an artist in a place like Malaysia – you have to balance the commercial side that pays the bills, while also finding a way to fulfil your creative side. It can be hard, but if you’re flexible enough, there’s a way to make it work. I do have ambitions to grow and scale my work, but for now, I’ll take things one step at a time, keep my head down and keep going.”

“To be honest, we had no idea whether we would eventually be able to bring it to the stage, but seeing how much work went into it, we knew it deserved a staging, whether we had to beg, borrow or steal to get it done,” says Ghafir. “There was a process of wanting to workshop the play during COVID, but when we did it over Zoom, we realised that there’s only so much you can do online, and when we finally did a physical read, you feel the nuance and resonance more strongly, and actors could play with each other more.”

“There was complete silence for a while, and then all of a sudden you hear that Adriana had booked the location, we did a physical read and you realise wow, it’s finally coming to life. It’s been so interesting to watch how it’s evolved over time, especially from page to reading over Zoom, to now actually performing it onstage,” says Putrina. “I’m always going to be excited about being in a new play, and for me as a relatively young actor, it’s still an ongoing journey that never quite ends, and I’m still trying to figure out the ropes and now I’m in a place of being selective even though not that many opportunities to be selective. There’s also quite a few strong monologues, in both Malay and English and that’s so hard to find here.”

The fault lines mentioned are rifts that can open up when you least expect them, but the key is to figure out how we can learn to accept these changes. “There’s that wave of intergenerational conflict that exists not only in Malaysia, but everywhere in the world, where you see the youths becoming more open and liberal towards society, which this play touches on a little,” says Ghafir. “Sometimes when you grow up, the older generations can’t accept that you’ve changed, whether in your beliefs or your personality, but change isn’t always bad. Sometimes people don’t realise that they too change as a result of the absence of a person, and you can’t expect anything to stay the same over time. There’s also this line where a character says ‘don’t be so sensitive as you get older’ towards someone of the same generation, and you realise that even within the same generation, there is conflict.”

“You can see a lot of this playing out on social media as well, where it can be vicious and unfiltered, but can also be necessary for giving people a voice and seeing what the ground sentiment is like,” adds Adriana. “How healthy that is needs to be fostered, and needs a respectful level of curiosity and acceptance of difference before diving into discussion on politics and society itself. And I believe the arts can help with that, by providing this gentle platform to bring people together and open up conversation about difficult topics.”

One integral point of representation in the play itself is the use of both Malay and English to represent the cultural clash and changes Shereen experiences when she moves to New York. “Both Malay and English are integral to this play, and you realise there are simply some things that cannot be translated into the other language. And of course being set overseas, English becomes the language of choice, while she lapses back into Malay when talking to her family,” says Adriana. “But it’s also a very changed language, where as I wrote, I realise how much I’ve been influenced by America in the vernacular and lingo, mixed in with Malaysian English, and you see the sheer amount of variety across the different characters.”

“The choice to use both Malay and English in this play is predominantly because of the demographic of the characters – Shereen is this urban, middle class, privileged Malaysian woman who is able to study abroad in New York, so English is quite an important language to her, which is juxtaposed against the Malay used by her family when they visit her,” says Ghafir. “You can see how she unintentionally code switches when she interacts with her family and her friends, and in general, it’s rare to find Malaysian works that employ that mix as opposed to a single language.”

“There’s very important representation that’s going on in this play, and it’s accessible to both English and non English-speaking audiences,” he adds. “It spotlights female Malay leads with a strong voice and opinion, young, university level Malaysians, and the mothers and uncles and fathers who have their own children moving overseas or out of town to another state to work. It’s a play that really cuts across demographics, not just the ‘privileged Malays’, but also all these people who’ve moved from their hometown to another city, and it leads to this whole conversation about identity and change that’s still ongoing.”

“I do recognise some similarities with Shereen, and I wouldn’t be surprised if other people resonate with her journey as well of being given the opportunity to study abroad where ‘better education’ is,” says Putrina, on how audience members are likely to connect with the play’s themes. “In addition, the reason why we’re asked and intrigued with wanting to leave is that you don’t get to build your life as an individual outside of the tribe you’re in, so the minute you step out, you separate from it, and become an orphan from the tribe you’re in, and that idea seems intriguing and a weird rite of passage.”

“But at the end of that journey, there’s also this expectation that you’ll have to come home after, which seems to box in what life for an individual should be like. It also sometimes feels like looking to the West is a very postcolonial way of thinking, where we’re convinced that better education is outside of the country when it’s actually very subjective,” she adds.

As for the directorial process, Ghafir explains his more freeform style, giving actors agency rather than being a dictator on how to unleash his directorial vision. “As I’m primarily an actor, I’m naturally influenced by that skillset when I put on the director’s hat, and try my best to make choices based on what’s best for them, since it’s not me who’s the one performing,” says Ghafir. “I trust my actors completely, and prefer a style that gives them freedom to move where they want and interpret lines, but also make sure to give space to throw questions at them to explain the mindset behind their choices, to help them clarify their choices more and make sure the story is told in the best way possible.”

On the difficulty of staging work in Malaysia, Ghafir comments on the age-old problem – funding and support. “In KL specifically, I don’t think it’s easy to stage my own work, because there’s a lack of continuous support. Some companies will help fund one work, and then you’ll have to save up again to find resources for a second play. Sometimes it’s easy when you have people willing to fund you for a few years, and then suddenly it’s over and you have to restart the process again,” says Ghafir. “People often end up wanting to fund you as a person, and not the work itself, so it’s important to build up a good reputation for creating good work. And as an independent artist, I try to associate with companies and piggyback on that, where I go off how I’ve done other plays with similar themes or ideas, like Gold Rain and Hailstones, and hopefully sponsors can connect the dots.

“It really is increasingly hard to find support to put up plays, since theatre costs keep increasing, and you need a big team but have a small audience, not just in Malaysia but other countries that lack the proper infrastructure,” says Adriana. “Financially, it doesn’t make sense, but still we feel a need to do it, and wish more people realise the benefits of art, and hopefully lead to more conversations and consistency in funding.”

But there’s good reason why they’re still staging such a show in KL – they believe this is a work worth putting up, and that there is hope for the future of theatre in Malaysia. “I’m always hopeful about a show getting a longer life beyond the first staging, and sometimes, even with a short run, the hope is also that maybe a director sees this show and wants to restage it a few years later, or a university professor might want to use it for scene study in class. It has to go into the system, not just in staging but also something you read and study,” says Ghafir. “We Malaysians are quite resilient – even if we don’t have a proper space, we still make do with warehouses and shophouses with no aircon, and that’s often where the most exciting work ends up happening. Of course, we always hope that we can have more money to stage our work, but I do hope that eventually, we reach a stage where we can more freely write characters without having to worry about its commercial appeal, where both alternative voices and more mass appeal work can co-exist. “

“Malaysia is ultimately home for me, where even if I do end up spending time overseas, I would always want to come back. I’ve reached the point where I am no longer curious about the West or the English-speaking world, where after my year in New York, I realised that I’m no longer automatically impressed by people in more developed parts of the world and that this isn’t my primary audience,” says Adriana. “When you live overseas, you realise that talent is everywhere, and what we see on the silver screen is a matter of what they market to you as good. Sure, the artists, filmmakers and all are great, but I don’t believe that artists in Latin America and East Africa and of course in Malaysia can’t stand on the same level.” 

“Even with little money, we have to be able to treat our stories with care and develop them properly. We have to grow the ecosystem slowly, and invest in it step by step, whether it’s providing actors with more meaty roles that speak to them for local contexts, or finding investors,” she concludes. “As a playwright, the journey is quite lonely initially, but once you let people in and they join the team, the magic begins to happen, and you know you’ve made the right decision in putting up a show. A play is only complete when it reaches the stage and there’s an audience watching it, and I’m glad that I had faith in the journey.”

Fault Lines runs from 16th to 19th November 2023 at Nero Event Space, PJPAC, 1 UTAMA E. Tickets available here

Production Credits:

Playwright/Executive Producer/Producer: Adriana Nordin Manan Director: Ghafir Akbar Cast: Putrina Rafie, Fatimah Abu Bakar, Xavier Reminick, Reza Zainal Abidin, Sabrina Hassan, Aloeng Silalahi, Catherine Leyow Assistant Producer: Azmi Hud Stage Manager: PH7 Production Management Set & Costume Designer: Raja Malek Lighting Designer: Ee Chee Wei Graphic Designer: Dannyhan Miskam Surtitles Translator: Adriana Nordin Manan