Part memoir and part epic, Titoudao is a portrait of celebration and grief for the fading wayang scene. 

How many of us have had a chance to catch a wayang performance in real life, on the streets as originally intended? With the amount of progress and modernisation Singapore has undergone over the years, wayang is but a lost art one can only experience in the theatres, often by visiting troupes and the dwindling number of local performers. Yet it remains a key element of our local culture and history, one that remains in people’s consciousness because of those who do their best to preserve it, such as in Toy Factory Productions’ Titoudao.

Having been adapted and staged 7 times now since it premiered 30 years ago, Titoudao can be considered Toy Factory Productions’ signature show, written and directed by artistic director Goh Boon Teck, and lauded for its unconventional narrative style and quintessential Singapore story at its heart. The play follows the story of real-life legendary Singaporean wayang (Chinese street opera) performer Oon Ah Chiam, from her difficult life growing up amongst 13 siblings, her rise to stardom onscreen and onstage, and her struggles to raise a family. 

Titoudao is also a play that goes beyond mere biopic, and is intended to capture the fast dying wayang culture, a lost art most younger Singaporeans have little chance of seeing live, along with the richness and diversity of languages that make up our melting pot of a country. The focus on performance and wayang culture is clear right from the beginning, as we see the cast, in white and out of costume, milling about the stage preparing for the show. The set, also designed by director Goh and Reyn Tan, feels distinctly hand-made and hand-painted to resemble an actual makeshift wayang set, while bamboo scaffolding extends beyond the stage, and the circles are adorned with fairy lights. 

This commitment to the grunge and atmosphere of a wayang performance extends even to how musician Haining plays live music using traditional Chinese instruments at the side of the stage, while Max Tan’s costumes are always period-accurate, from the fashionable mod dress and sunglasses Oon dons when on a date at Haw Par Villa, to the lush costumes and headgear worn by the cast in the final scenes of Titoudao, representing the characters’ having risen in status and overcome their struggles.

Titoudao’s script is one that takes risks narratively, mixing multiple realities and perspectives and frames, while also  performed out of chronological order. While this may have been innovative when it first premiered, for the audience, all this can be overwhelming, and often, it detracts from the main storyline itself, particularly when Oon breaks the fourth wall to appear as her 50-year old self, or when we jump to depictions of Oon and all her siblings having a moonlit night out and away from their father. 

The show as a whole takes its time to tell Oon’s story, while also focusing on specific moments that often feel like huge time skips each time were reintroduced to Oon in a new stage of her life. While it does make sense, tying in with developments such as the introduction of television or the banning of dialect, the show tries too hard to balance the personal story of a woman overcoming the odds, as well as a great Singapore story, ultimately pulled in both directions such that it feels bereft of an identity while trying to make it work with oddly placed monologues or big ensemble numbers.

Much of the show then relies heavily on its cast to keep the show buoyed. In the lead role this time is Tan Rui Shan, who excels by showing off her ability to shift between the various facets of Oon, from an innocent young girl, to a protective older sister, a fashionable star, to a devoted mother. Most of all she shines as  the titular Titoudao, the role Oon became most famous for – a mischievous but loyal servant to a poor scholar, as the two travel in the hopes of improving their fortunes. 

In that role, Rui Shan shows off a cheeky spirit and a mobility that makes Oon’s stardom believable, witty and charming as she hits back against nasty nobles, or even an epic match against a wild tiger (beautifully portrayed by two performers, in a spin on the traditional lion dance costumes). Rui Shan’s star power comes to light when put in the right role and given the right direction, and the work she’s put into this role, every little step and turn precise and reminiscent of actual wayang performers. 

Rui Shan is joined by an ensemble comprising Clement Yeo, Sharon Sum, Andy Yew, Alvin Chiam, Isabella Chiam and Xuan Ong, playing characters that range from her fellow wayang troupe actors, to her family members. Standouts include Sharon Sum and Isabella Chiam, who both showcase strong range as actors, committing fully to their roles and their energy is felt onstage whether as a monster-in-law, or as a doting godmother – both of them are joys to watch in their respective scenes and can be counted on to bring up the energy each time they appear. Andy Yew also impresses with his range of characters, whether playing Oon’s domineering older brother, or even her eventual husband, a complete 180 where he’s shy, awkward and constantly stuttering as he quite literally simpering for his favourite actress. The ensemble is also impressive with their ability to juggle the many languages that make up the script, where Mandarin, Hokkien, English and even Malay all come out and overlap in various scenes. 

Still, as enthusiastic as the relatively young cast is, the pacing of Titoudao lacks a certain tautness that drags out the show. In addition, there are several scenes that break the fourth wall, with the cast directly addressing the audience and attempting to volley jokes off each other for the sake of educating them on Hokkien vocabulary and wayang culture – the jokes unfortunately feel like a desperate attempt to make the play appealing to a 2024 audience, and the comic timing is lacking.

Despite the messy attempt to modernize it, there is an earnestness to all it does that makes one understand the longevity of Titoudao – it feels like a sincere attempt to hold on to wayang culture as long as one can, to beat the passage of time and keep it in the Singapore consciousness, particularly with Toy Factory’s willingness to pass on the torch to this group of younger actors to show what they’re made of. In her older years, Oon laments how much she misses performing on stage, and in its final scenes, the wayang set-up shafted to the wings, we see Titoudao performing its closing act, everyone getting their happy ending, before the cast walk into the shadows. It is a beautiful finale that reminds us how fragile our traditions can be, and how easy it is to forget the pioneers of the arts scene that came before us. And even if you don’t remember her name, you’ll certainly remember Oon’s sheer aura of joy and the stage presence she commands when she plays Titoudao. 

Photo Credit: Toy Factory Productions

Titoudao plays from 5th to 28th July 2024 at Victoria Theatre. Tickets available from SISTIC