The family that sins together, stays together.

In the Chinese classic anthology Liaozhai (Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio), the short stories often focused on portraying the social norms of the time through a supernatural lens. Even in modern interpretations of the text, it remains a key source of inspiration for social commentary and what it means to live, resulting in director/playwright Oliver Chong’s continued obsession with the work, and leading to The Finger Players’ new production Transplant.

Playing at the 2024 Huayi – Chinese Festival of Arts last week, Transplant is a spiritual successor to 2018’s Citizen Dog, drawing direct inspiration from a number of stories from Liaozhai to form this waking nightmare of domesticity gone wrong. The story centres on a dysfunctional nuclear family, comprising philandering father Tai Yuan (Alvin Chiam), hard-hearted mother Jiang Cheng (Jo Kwek), gormless university-going son Yuan Feng (Neo Hai Bin) and Tai Yuan’s hateful, bedridden mother (a puppet, voiced by Myra Loke). Already fraying at the edges, the family is set to stray even further when Tai Yuan picks up a homeless girl, Ah Xiu (Ellison Tan), whose sweet exterior belies a literal demonic force and a more sinister plot under her painted skin.

Transplant’s Chinese title《移心》, besides literally meaning ‘a change of heart’, is also phonetically similar to ‘疑心’, which means to hold a suspicious heart, something every single member of the family feels towards each other. The play takes place entirely within the family’s home, and Oliver, as set designer, utilises the space afforded by the Singtel Waterfront Theatre stage to create distinct rooms for each member, all of them separated by walls and working doors to represent their fractured relationship. While there is economical use of space, the depth and positioning of certain rooms makes it difficult to appreciate and take in everything that’s happening onstage from certain angles, or noticing details such as a shoe rack integral to the plot.

Still, there is a certain sense of chaos that characterises Transplant, often punctuated by collaborators RUDRA, a Vedic metal band playing live music from behind window-like structures, as if watching the family unravel from afar. As unusual as the pairing seems to be, RUDRA’s music helps denote the rage and inner frustration experienced by all the family members, a whirlwind of garbled words in dissonant English and Mandarin that sound like they could come from the underworld itself. Meanwhile, there is effective use of doors slamming shut to display characters inner anger, while select scenes see the actors seemingly sleepwalking as they shuffle robotically across the stage, almost in a trance to deepen the spooky atmosphere.

In terms of its pacing, Transplant is somewhat rocky – with its narrative only coming into play after an almost twenty minute, dialogue-less introduction of the characters. What follows is a mostly simple storyline of how Ah Xiu hastens the family’s downfall by worsening each of their vices. Most significant of all is when she performs the titular transplant on Yuan Feng, ripping out the heart of his bedridden grandmother, and comically, campily doing the same to Yuan Feng, complete with a gruesome, seemingly eternal rope of intestines she accidentally pulls out along with it. The literal change of heart allows Yuan Feng to pass his exams, and essentially binds him to Ah Xiu, promising to marry her. That then is Ah Xiu’s true intent – to worm her way into the family, and settle in like a parasite, transplanting herself into their household.

What follows is a rather heady, trippy experience onstage, as Ah Xiu sows the seeds of suspicion, toying with each family member like predator and prey, whether seducing Tai Yuan or taunting Jiang Cheng. When her misdeeds come to light, she continues to maintain a guise of innocence – Ellison Tan does a spectacular job here of toggling between these different sides of Ah Xiu, whether raising her voice to simper, or sharpening it to a snarl, before giggling hysterically, spinning across the stage while wielding a knife fit for butchering.

As with any major Finger Players production, puppets remain an essential element, and puppeteers Angelina Chandra, Myra Loke, and Vanessa Toh fulfil this as black clad ghosts that haunt the stage, non-speaking but always reacting to all that is happening. The puppets in question are both the grandmother, and another puppet of Ah Xiu, bearing a striking resemblance to her where there are times it can be hard to tell the two apart. For the most part, this is for practicality – it doesn’t make sense to have an actor lying in bed the whole play, and in the case of Ah Xiu, there is a specific scene where she is hacked apart, her limbs and torso floating about. There is expertise in their puppetry, creating that sense of the uncanny, almost-human-but-not-quite sense of unease, but feels like it could have been pushed further still.

In general, the characters are also given very little to do, and are essentially locked into the same archetype throughout the play, with little development and almost constantly shown with expressions of torment, anguish or horror, resulting in them seeming like pawns serving a moral message. Transplant as a whole feels more like a mishmash parable of Liaozhai, taking pinches of inspiration from its various stories to create a mood piece that doesn’t really go anywhere, itself a simple plot that gets stretched out to fill its 90 minute runtime. One appreciates the effort that went into the world-building and sense of mystery and discomfort produced, but Transplant ultimately feels like it needed a bit more time to cook, more focused on the presentation than the emotional core, requiring more cohesion and ironically, more of a heart.

Photos by Jack Yam, courtesy of Esplanade – Theatres on the Bay

Transplant played from 23rd to 24th February 2024 at the Singtel Waterfront Theatre. More information available here

Huayi – Chinese Festival of Arts ran from 16th to 25th February 2024 at the Esplanade. More information available here

Production Credits:

Playwright/Director/Set Designer Oliver Chong Sonic Design/Live Music RUDRA Performers Alvin Chiam, Ellison Tan, Jo Kwek, Neo Hai Bin Puppeteers Angelina Chandra, Myra Loke, Vanessa Toh Lighting Design Gabriel Chan Costume Design Loo An Ni Puppet Design Daniel Sim Puppet Fabricator Prop-Erly Prop Master and Puppet Maintenance Marilyn Ang System Designer and Sound Engineer Lee Yew Jin Sound Associate Jean Yap Production Manager Celestine Wong Technical Manager Ian Tan Set Coordinator Bernice Ong Stage Manager Tennie Su Assistant Stage Manager Alethea Koh, Natalie Wong Wardrobe Mistress Chua Jia Ling Script Translation Ellison Tan Surtitle Operator Teo Pei Si Hair and Make-up Artist Cherlynn (Cat Scratch SFX)