Finding meaning and momentum in persevering through the pain.

No matter how many times it happens, the act of falling will always be coupled with a sense of fear, often from the knowledge that the point of impact is going to hurt. Yet when it becomes incorporated into one’s daily life, the pain that comes from each fall becomes somewhat more bearable when one becomes used to it even, to the point where it might even become some kind of routine or rite of passage for one to make progress.

That attempt to make sense of falling is precisely what is explored in Malaysian dancer/choreographer’s A Reason For Falling, which played at the Esplanade Theatre Studio this weekend. Inspired by the experience of watching freeriding, the practice of riding down uncurated mountain faces on bikes, snowboards or skis, A Reason For Falling adopts a clearly structured narrative in its presentation, taking audiences on a journey of hope as they discover the sheer joy that emerges from committing one’s self so completely and fully to the perfection of a craft that a successful execution becomes cause for euphoria.

In the Esplanade Theatre Studio, the audience is seated in a semi-circle around the performance space, where Wei-an, sporting long hair and a simple white tee and pants, whizzes about on a skateboard, completely as ease as he does circles, weaving in and out of the audience. He is confident, relaxed and clear of the task that lies ahead, as the performance begins. In silence, Wei-an remains mostly seated, using his fingers to mimic acrobatic feats, walking them across his arm before making leaps and the eventual fall. There is the sense of something child-like in this segment, as if recalling a more innocent time where one did not know pain and simply play, where one’s imagination made it seem like the human body was capable of anything.

But it is in the next segment that Wei-an transmutes this from his fingers to his entire body, as he begins to perform b-boy moves, spinning on his head, throwing his body across the stage, in a whirlwind of energy. Kent Lee’s music comes in at this point, becoming frenetic as Wei-An only gains momentum, while Liu Yong Huay’s lighting illuminates Wei-an, leaving the rest of the stage in darkness. His energy feels like a hurricane, and you sense fear in his voice as he yelps, overtaken and uncertain of the fall.

One then considers how different conceptualising a performance is compared to its execution, and how difficult things can be, the intensity of the process. In one moment, a single lamp descends from the wings, spinning ever so slightly while Wei-an seems to mimic this movement too, oscillating and revolving around the stage, as if representing that state of limbo between the fall and impact, spiralling out of control as he allows himself to give in to the fall. It is a segment that slows down the performance, and perhaps time itself, giving him the space to reflect on all that is happening. In the background, we see video footage of Wei-an rehearsing, perhaps indicating the long hours of preparation all this has taken, and how much he has endured.

Why then should one persist if all one receives is hard knocks? The answer comes in the form of a slightly lengthier video, as Wei-an sits down to recover and catch his breath. Onscreen, we see a glorious snowy landscape, and Wei-an himself cruising across it, gazing up at the white mountains while we feel him moving swiftly across. There is the sense of accomplishment, that there is profound beauty in having achieved the balance not to fall, and a sublime wonder at the world by having overcome all this, a pure euphoria that spreads across his face.

Taking this to heart, the next segment sees Wei-an return to the confidence he had at the start, and execute a short but powerful sequence successfully, not once falling, though with considerable effort. It is somewhat acrobatic, and certainly impressive, his movements smooth and his body lithe, while Kent Lee’s music beats on in the background, building up our own anticipation as we watch him. He completes it, panting for breath, a smile on his face and he exhales, vulnerable yet raw and real.

In its final segment, the lamp descends once again, and he once again spins. The art of the fall has given him the space to think, he is still uncertain, still unsure and flinching with each fall, yet has learnt to embrace it all, as it fades into darkness. You come to understand the unbeatable glory of success after hard work, and appreciate the rare chance to be invited to watch a dancer in all his vulnerability, toeing the line between practice and performance, commanding the stage with sheer willpower and a plucky passion and verve for this art form he has dedicated himself to. Falling is and always will be scary, but you learn to trust the process, to understand that the pain too shall pass, and if you keep at it, that cycle will one day reveal to you that only after a fall do you learn to fly.

Images by Farhan Rizuwan, Courtesy of Dance Nucleus

A Reason For Falling played from 7th to 8th December 2024 at the Esplanade Theatre Studio. More information available here. For more information on the work, visit Wei-an’s website here

da:ns focus – Out of Site ran from 6th to 8th December 2024 at the Esplanade. More information and full programme available here

Production Credits:

Choreographer, Performer, Producer Hwa Wei-An  Dramaturg Arco Renz  Performance Coach Lee Ren Xin  Composer Kent Lee  Lighting Designer Liu Yong Huay  Production Manager Low Pey Sien  Stage Manager Tennie Su