Italian madcap farce gets a modern update, beating audience over the head with its political message.

To the ordinary citizen, the authorities often work in mysterious ways, working behind closed doors. And as much as the arrest of dangerous criminals is ostensibly for the betterment of society, do the ends always justify the means? Do our definitions of dangerous criminals align with the authorities’? Or is there something far darker going on, where authorities may simply be suppressing those they see as troublemakers to avoid potential ‘troublemakers’ pointing out flaws in the ‘perfect’ system they boast about?

Such is the nature of 1970 Italian play Accidental Death of an Anarchist by Dario Fo and Franca Rame, which was originally written as a response to the suspicious circumstances of the death of anarchist Giuseppe Pinelli while being interrogated by the police. In staging the play, Wild Rice has made modifications to the script, retitling it Accidental Death of an Activist, while mostly remaining loyal to its original storyline, peppering it with both local and modern references, while of course, making it clear that it bears no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead.

Adapted by Jo Kukathas, and co-directed by both Jo and Glen Goei, Wild Rice’s staging leans heavily into the meta-theatrical aspects, opening with the cast coming out onstage and introducing their actual names, and making it clear that this is not a play that is meant to be taken literally, but as a construction and fable of a sorts. Maintaining its setting in Italy while making clear Singaporean references, with characters speaking in English, Malay and Chinese, it creates a hypothetical scenario that allows for the producers to put the authorities under trial as they question the authenticity and efficacy of their methodologies.

Wong Chee Wai’s set transports us to the interior of an Italian police station, conveying that we are most certainly not on the ground floor with a window that opens up to a blue sky, the leaves and branches of a tree clearly visible. While practical for the most part, allowing us to focus on the performance, there is a cheeky photo of a sheep hung up, perhaps representing the many ‘sheeple’ that exist among us, simply following the mainstream rather than utilising critical thinking to see beneath the surface. Our story begins with an interrogation by overbearing officer Bertozzo (Siti Khalijah Zainal), where he encounters a particularly difficult interviewee – the Madman (Ghafir Akbar).

Sporting a pink mohawk, a kilt and leather boots, the Madman is the stereotypical image of a punk looking for trouble, but is anything but typical. In what is perhaps one of Ghafir’s most demanding roles of his career, the Madman reveals himself to be immensely charismatic and charming, a master of wordplay and wit as he outsmarts the bumbling Bertozzo. Siti Khalijah occupies a familiar character here, and plays it with gusto, groaning and hapless as Bertozzo grows increasingly frustrated at the Madman’s refusal to answer straight. His crime? Online impersonation leading to mischief, which he nimbly slips out of on account of his history of mental illness, going in and out of hospitals.

But while the Madman technically can get away scot-free, he becomes intrigued by the recent case of an activist holding up a sign outside parliament that leads to his arrest, and subsequently, ‘suicide’ by jumping out a window. Suspicious of the legitimacy of the case, he takes the opportunity to impersonate Bertozzo while he’s out to intercept a phone call by superior Pisani (Sugie Phua) to glean more information. And as a master of disguise and chaos, naturally, he sees how far he can take this facade by impersonating a judge and confronting both Pisani and the Superintendent (Lim Kay Siu), who were both present during the activist’s interrogation.

In adapting the script, it often feels as if Jo Kukathas has left nothing on the cutting room floor, cramming it with as many cheeky retorts and references as possible, from updating the activist’s accomplice to a TikTok influencer, to making sly allusions to certain real-life activists who may have run afoul of the law, a parody of RuPaul’s Drag Race, or even direct commentary is made regarding the death penalty unfairly punishing low income drug mules. This new version of the script then feels overstuffed at times, almost as if desperate to prove that it is hip and in the know, and trying to cover so much to the point of too much. Subtlety is all but present in this script, to the point that the most obviously punk-coded songs play between scenes, and one wonders if the audience’s intelligence is taken for granted, where it seems that there are times the play almost seems to beat us over the head with its references that end up detracting from the crux of the play itself, rather than adding to it.

To that end then, as directors, both Jo and Glen have managed to somewhat wrangle the unwieldy material, thanks to a cast that handles the farcical nature of the script well, keeping the momentum going, while also making sure to address the undercurrent of darkness that cuts through it. Much of this is thanks to Ghafir Akbar’s stellar performance, and feels like he was plucked straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon with his seemingly endless well of energy, rapid fire in his speech and always ready with a quip. The lines come hard and fast, while the many disguises he dons are smoothly whipped out of his duffel bags, a manic grin always on his face. His performance is mesmerising, pulling all the strings and orchestrating every other character’s emotions, eating up every word he says, and even though we know it’s all a lie, we begin to believe these characters he embodies, catching new physicalities, new intonation, and always, the comic timing and physical humour.

So while the Madman is a winsome antihero we wind up rooting for despite his own questionable tactics, it makes sense that he is forced to fight fire with fire when faced with the rest of the incompetent police force, where threats and violence are their modus operandi. In contrast to the Madman, all four policemen are shown to be fools, full of themselves and ardent believers in their own warped sense of justice. Sugie Phua especially plays an important role as Pisani, often driven to the edge by the Madman’s antics and constantly tripping over his own half-truths, while Lim Kay Siu, as the Superintendent, scrambles to evade any responsibility whatsoever, scolding Pisani to cover up his own fear. Finally, Krish Natarajan plays the dim-witted Constable, eager to please and providing appropriate comic relief to punctuate each moment.

Even with its hijinks-per-minute style, the play does eventually begin to run out of steam by the second half after it is made abundantly clear that the activist was coerced into his death. It is no doubt an exhausting play to put on, but when Munah Bagharib finally appears as no-nonsense journalist Feletti, it feels like revisiting familiar ground once again, only with the entire cast this time. In a final twist deviating from the violent original, Wild Rice’s version also chooses a cop out of an ending – rather than a bang, it instead becomes a whimper, with Krish Natarajan breaking character and directly addressing the audience, asking if there is any value at all in this show altogether as a form of ‘protest theatre’, before concluding.

In that sense, Accidental Death of an Activist ends up an entertaining romp that pokes fun at police brutality, but winds up hollow in its message. Certainly, while we may think of the most obvious case of the law being used to snuff out dissidents in Singapore being back to the anti-communist operations of the 60s and beyond, Wild Rice’s version makes it clear that there are still remnants that linger in the modern world, such as arresting activists and protestors for what the general public sees as harmless activity.

Being told by IMDA to make changes to their script, Wild Rice delayed the opening of the show, and one wonders whether there was anything major lost between that version and this, feeling like all bark and no bite. As the cast all come out in identical red tees with a smiley printed on, we are left to wonder if they were indeed cowed by the cuts, and all that they are now allowed to do is to smile on in silent protest, the true nature of their message buried under censorship. But as it stands, what we see onstage ends up trying too hard to fight for its relevance, fun in its execution, but perhaps, too blunt to the point it loses meaning.

Photo Credit: Wild Rice

Accidental Death of an Activist plays till 19th October 2024 at Wild Rice @ Funan. Tickets available here

Production Credits:

Playwrights Dario Fo, Franca Rame Adapter / Director Jo Kukathas Director Glen Goei Cast Ghafir Akbar, Lim Kay Siu, Munah Bagharib, Krish Natarajan, Sugie Phua, Siti Khalijah Zainal Set Designer Wong Chee Wai Lighting Designer Alberta Wileo Multimedia Designer Maximilian Liang (Fiction Shore) Costume Designer Theresa Chan Hair Designer Ashley Lim Make-Up Designer Bobbie Ng Fight Choreographer Tan Guo Lian Sutton