Visceral horror of watching violence unfold in a state of paralysis.
With each passing year, it feels as if we’re plunged into an increasing number of major conflicts, whether the Russo-Ukrainian War, or the resurgence in attacks from both sides in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Violence is all around us, and it can become easy to fall into a state of unrelenting pessimism, as we become numb to the headlines and steadily rising body count, remaining safe in our own rooms away from the horrors.
But in Very Shy Gurl’s Motherland, Noor Effendy Ibrahim wants you to come face to face with such violence, and open your eyes to the visceral day-to-day pain experienced by those directly involved. Previously presented as a shorter version as part of SIFA X: Headline Acts (2023), Motherland considers a scenario where two soldiers on opposing sides are caught in a complex relationship with each other. Toeing the line between violence and tenderness, Motherland explodes into a hard-hitting series of displays that ponder the nature of love, and the state of paralysis we find ourselves in when facing a world on fire.
Motherland, in many ways, feels like a quintessential work by Effendy, where its symbolism is rife and the violence or threat of violence is aplenty. Effendy excels at creating an atmosphere of dread and uncertainty, and that is exactly the position Motherland places us in, as we watch the situation unfold before us. Even before the performance begins, Irfan Kasban, clad only in a pair of white shorts, is holding two weighted duffel bags in either hand while breathing audibly and heavily, anxious and exhausted. Bada Jabari is in a more casual pair of jeans and a plain white tee (with some holes in them, perhaps slashed or bullet-ridden), but he stares into a lamp, almost masochistic in how he seems to be blinding his own eyes while a line of drool lingers on his beard, as if catatonic.
Behind, Mish’aal shakes his head back and forth to the steady beat from sound artist Isyraf, seated in front of a pile of bags, from which a single metal chain extends upwards, leading to a gigantic punching bag that hangs overhead, looming and threatening to fall, possibly crushing a skull along the way. While most of the cast comprises men, from time to time, vocal artist Rosemainy Buang sings in Javanese, and she seems to represent the titular ‘Motherland’, her voice a representation of the pain and suffering of the country this unnamed war is fought on.
The power of Motherland lies in its willingness and single-minded mission to present the unfolding of trauma before our very eyes, allowing us to fully feel what it’s like to watch violence as a spectator and being unable to intervene. There is a sense of sado-masochism that informs the entire performance, where early on, we already see Mish’aal, playing a dog, to perform and bark for Bada as he demands he shows his obeisance. In the case of Irfan, as much as the synopsis may state that both he and Bada’s characters are in love, it manifests instead more as Stockholm syndrome, where Irfan seems to only agree to enter a relationship with his wife’s life hanging in the balance, supposedly represented by the punching bag hanging above.
Cruelty is at the heart of Motherland, and it is by watching such acts that we end up feeling the pain and suffering at the heart of wall. Of these, the most harrowing is watching Irfan manacled and chained to a metal bedframe, spreadeagled before his bare back is whipped by a Mish’aal wielding a leather belt. He counts each strike – one, two, three…ten , and there is momentary relief as we think it’s over, before it carries on, each hit audible and Irfan’s skin reddening from the impact, till we hit thirty. Still, he is refused water. Elsewhere, we watch as Bada literally pursues Irfan, as the former perches atop the bedframe while the latter cowers underneath, or we watch forced kisses, and deeply uncomfortable, implied rape, before Bada taunts Irfan further, maniacal as he tempts him with the promise of breakfast, only to reveal there are no eggs at all, in a bleak moment of black humour.
So it becomes all the more harrowing when Irfan somehow responds that he loves Bada, a chink in the brutality that catches him off guard, as we wonder about the odd relationship between love and abuse. Irfan constantly pleads for Bada to release his wife, but is only buffeted with more lovebombing, more sex, more violence. If it sounds familiar, that’s because it is, considering how in the world today, it seems no one is willing to compromise on violence, where it seems that it is brute force that is the first and final solution, until nothing is left.
While high concept and deeply unnerving, Motherland‘s weakest points lie in its script and performance, where Effendy’s writing, in English, often sounds awkward from the mouths of his performers. All three performers never quite seem to capture the depth of each line, playing it straight rather than hinting at the layers and symbolism lining each one, and there is far too much dialogue that struggles to fit itself into the decidedly atmospheric performance. There are times we find ourselves wishing that rather than being interrupted by an odd line, we would instead be allowed to simply be witnesses to the disturbing moments before us, to let the horror seep under our skin, and have us feel disgusted at both what is happening onstage and at ourselves for our inaction.
Nonetheless, Motherland carries with it the same excitement as watching a work where one cannot fathom what is about to happen next, where it makes clear the rising tension that exists from the perverted relationship between both soldiers. By its end, we are still well aware that there is a war going on outside, even after the complete and total breakdown between individuals we’ve witnessed, and we find ourselves a little emptier, a little more cognizant of the horrors outside of the safety of Singapore. We hear the cries of pain from ‘mother’, and the scene resets itself, caught in an endless cycle of violence, breakable only when finally, someone manages to intervene and disrupt it.
Photo Credit: Laydio
Motherland plays from 18th to 20th January 2024 at Practice Space, The Theatre Practice. More information available here
M1 Singapore Fringe Festival 2024 runs from 17th to 28th January 2024 across various venues. Full line-up available here, with tickets available from BookMyShow
Production Credits:
| Artistic Director-Producer: Noor Effendy Ibrahim Performers: Bada Jabari, Irfan Kaban, Mish’aal Vocal Artist: Rosemainy Buang Sound Artist: Isyraf Production Manager: Clarisse Ng Lighting Designer: Emanorwatty Saleh Lighting Associates: Ian Rohan, Morales Mitzi Ramos, Qi Yun, Tan Wei Wei, Wee Leng |
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