Full speed ahead into the complex topic of pedophilia and grooming in small town America.

In America, with its long highways and winding roads, driving remains a necessity if you want to get out. As a result, getting one’s driver’s license becomes a key rite of passage, marking a coming of age for many Americans, symbolising newfound freedom with the ability to go anywhere, anytime with one’s own car – including leaving behind a small home town for bigger dreams and brighter cities. But what price is one willing to pay to nab that freedom?

In her ‘graduation’ presentation for the Esplanade’s TRIP programme for early career directors, Renee Yeong has decided to direct Paula Vogel’s award-winning play How I Learned To Drive, which deals with the heavy subject matter of grooming and pedophilia in small town America. The play centres on Li’l Bit (Masturah Oli), a grown woman who looks back on her childhood and teen years growing up in rural Maryland. Constantly teased for her large breasts, she recalls the unwanted attention and comments she gets from both her schoolmates and her family. Her only form of solace is her Uncle Peck (Andrew Lua), who seems like the only relative who understands and wants her to fulfil her ambitions of leaving the town forever. There’s only one problem – he’s also sexually abusing her.

It’s not hard to see why Vogel’s script won the 1998 Pulitzer Prize for Drama; not only does it grapple with a taboo topic that’s still brushed under the rug, it also does so with plenty of nuance, balancing the heavier, more disturbing segments with a full immersion in the world of Maryland and its conservative, almost stifling atmosphere. What really makes the script stand out however is how it handles the complexity of grooming and being a victim, where there are times one begins to see things from Li’l Bit’s perspective, understanding the allure of her seemingly innocent uncle while being unable to choke back the feeling of dread, disgust and discomfort from the scenes before us.

In this staging, the audience is seated on two sides of the traverse stage, looking down upon a straight road, with the set designed by Petrina Dawn Tan. Above, various road signs are hung, comprising more realistic stop signs, and more surreal ones, referencing different segments and quotes from the play that metaphorically make up the complex psychological road map of Li’l Bit’s mind, whether question marks or an adult holding a child’s hand, the latter being especially sinister considering the play’s subject matter. The road to adulthood is a perilous one, constantly filled with hazards and directions that point you every which way, confusing with the many paths, and how one wrong turn could lead you astray and ruin it forever.

In addition, on one end, there is a curious structure, a Frankenstein’s monster comprising the front two seats of a car, and a bed attached to it. This is used as Peck’s car, his place of power where he has complete and total dominance over Li’l Bit when they’re in it, cramped and with nowhere to run, with the bed implying how inherently sexual these encounters are. That is also a perspective that makes it clear how Renee’s interpretation will play out, often opting to do away with the nuance and focus on the horror of grooming altogether. Right from the beginning, Masturah Oli already enters the space with a heavy, troubled expression in her face, an impossible sadness that weighs down her voice as she thinks of Maryland, her body closed off, as if afraid and defensive.

This version of Li’l Bit thus almost always feels filled with an anger and frustration in all her actions, constantly lashing out or wary of everyone around her, almost like she is deliberately isolating herself, unable to fully connect with the world around her due to the sexual abuse she’s suffered. It makes sense then that she often feels like the most mature character among the cast, forced to grow up faster than everyone else, and unable to revel in the same jokes the rest of the family does.

The ensemble, comprising Tan Ruishan, Vester Ng and Arielle Jasmine Van Zuijlen, play the role of a Greek chorus who switch between members of Li’l Bit’s family, to schoolmates. While these are often meant to bring about a lightness to the play, they are laced with an immaturity that stands in stark contrast to Li’l Bit’s anxiety, whether discussing sexuality and making crude jokes, or playing pranks on her, and the feeling can be unnervingly disjointed from the rest of the play at times, further adding to the suffocating atmosphere, making it clear why and how much Li’l Bit feels the need to leave.

As for Uncle Peck, there is never any doubt of his villainy, where right from the beginning, when Li’l Bit climbs into the car with him, we witness him immediately advancing on her. Throughout the play, there is the constant sense of unease each time he appears, knowing that he is more than likely to do something untoward, and the play as a whole is filled with darkness as a result. When How I Learned To Drive leans into the creeping sense of horror inherent in the script is when it does especially well, such as when Li’l Bit agrees to do an innocent ‘photoshoot’ in the basement with just the two of them, as Peck showers her with praises, coaxing her to reveal a little more skin or pose in more seductive ways, clearly lusting after her while he inches ever so close, eyes boring through her clothes.

To that end, Renee has worked well with intimacy director Rayann Condy to achieve just the right amount of horror as we witness these scenes. There are times How I Learned To Drive falls a little flat – the decision to adopt a more global accent robs it of its characters’ Southern-specific context, while the actors still seem to be on the verge of breaking into one on occasion. But when Renee finds the sweet spot in Vogel’s script is when it shines – one of the most powerful scenes is when Uncle Peck meets with Li’l Bit after she goes off to university. Meeting in a dingy hotel room, he woos her with champagne, and Vogel’s words are powerful as you see him for the broken man he is, hopelessly lusting after his own niece, practically begging her to just lie down with him. As Li’l Bit describes the draw of his Southern Charm, you see her almost begin to lean in, and you understand the allure of giving in to such forbidden desires, and realise how completely brainwashed she’s been to normalise the possibility of such a relationship, before she hurriedly leaves.

Renee is a director who has begun to carve a niche and name for herself in directing one-woman plays, be it last year’s I am trying to say something true or Grounded by Singapore Theatre Company. With How I Learned To Drive, it is clear that she is stretching herself artistically, with this five-person cast that puts her out of her comfort zone, while still maintaining her penchant for complex but strong female leads. In its exploration of abuse, Renee finds it in her cast to draw out both the tension and the trauma, turning subtlety into overt portrayal that aims to make audience members feel viscerally for Li’l Bit’s lost childhood. It is with a heavy heart that we watch her continue to be abused, society failing her as they turn a blind eye or remain oblivious to all that she’s going through.

How I Learned To Drive was never going to be an easy watch. But Renee finds a way to turn up the harrowing, devastating qualities of the script to 11, its horror made explicit by always shining a spotlight on the abuse and perpetrator, making sure there is no way to turn away from the truth and nothing is left to interpretation. And so it is that the only relief we find is at the end, when Li’l Bit finally grows up, when Uncle Peck is dead and gone, that she can breathe easy again, her voice still breathless, as if in disbelief of being free at last, free to put the pedal to the metal. A ghost of Uncle Peck standing on the road in front of her, she goes full throttle, ready to run him over, ready to leave this town once and for all, and leave the pain of the past behind her.

Photos by Crispian Chan, courtesy of Esplanade – Theatres on the Bay

How I Learned To Drive played from 19th to 21st April 2024, at the Esplanade Theatre Studio. More information available here Find out more about TRIP here

Production Credits:

Director Renee Yeong Playwright Paula Vogel Cast Masturah Oli, Andrew Lua, Vester Ng, Tan Rui Shan, Arielle Jasmine Van Zuijlen Set Designer Petrina Dawn Tan Set Assistant M.Nurfadhli Jasni Sound Designer Guo Ningru Lighting Designer James Tan Costume Designer Max Tan Intimacy Director Rayann Condy Production Manager Evelyn Chia (The Backstage Affair) Production Coordinator Wann Nurul Asyiqin (The Backstage Affair) Stage Manager Celestine Wong (The Backstage Affair) Assistant Stage Manager Georgia Sim (The Backstage Affair)