In search of a soon-to-be-lost lost season, in the form of an evocative letter of love and unfathomable grief.

In the mindscapes of so many Singaporeans, the idea of winter is an utterly foreign one for a tropical island that experiences sweltering heat all year round. To us, the season of snow takes on almost a mythic quality to it, where the only way to access colder temperatures is to either put the air-conditioning on full blast, pray for cool weather after torrential rain, or make a pilgrimage overseas where a white Christmas might happen.

It is interesting then to consider how an audience comprising primarily of Singaporeans would receive a play titled The End of Winter, which deals with the very real effects of climate change, and how global warming might well eviscerate the cold once and for all. As the very first theatre show of 2025 in Singapore and kicking off this year’s M1 Singapore Fringe Festival, Australia’s Siren Theatre Co. has set a high bar with this performance, and crafted a unique ‘performance essay’ (as they put it) that is evocative, moving, and makes a strong case for the preservation of icy conditions across the world.

Written by Noëlle Janaczewska and directed by Kate Gaul, The End of Winter is a monologue performed by Jane Phegan, who takes on the role of a writer born in Europe during a cold December, but has since migrated down under, a ‘contrarian’ since birth and someone who has developed an intense hunger and craving for the chill of winter. To satiate that, she has decided to embark on a journey to visit as many cold climates as possible; casting aside the idea of a whether physically or through accounts and museums about epic expeditions.

The End of Winter then, plays out like a sort of documentary, as Janaczewska’s script zips around the world, taking us from blustery winds off Australian offshore islands, to the artificially-created snow in Saudi Arabia. There is a clear sense of curation with each segment, every word carefully chosen for maximum effect as it activates the imagination, these exotic sounding countries making Phegan onstage seem like an intrepid explorer, unafraid to venture to the furthest reaches she can manage via public transport. We are given blocks of information, each one shaped like a mini-narrative that makes us ponder the history and reasoning behind them with encyclopaedic dexterity and a storyteller’s craft, certainly making us curious to find out and go on a deep dive into each one. Director Kate Gaul allows Phegan to wander the stage, never too much, always controlled, and just enough to signal a change with each recount, with Phegan expressive in her voice, her hands and her face.

For the places that she cannot reach, whether because of restrictions from weather or worse, the COVID-19 pandemic, or simply because they are too far or impossible to get to for an untrained civilian, we are instead regaled with accounts of famous figures instead, museums filled with artefacts of scientists and travelers on great expeditions to the North, from the first female Russian scientist fighting against misogyny to reach Antarctica, to Nobu Shirase, who led the first Japanese Antarctic Expedition and wound up in the south. We are told of the asbestos used when Dorothy awakens from the field of poppies in The Wizard of Oz, or even her own memories of playing a part in a student production of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale.

Blending memory and wordplay, considering the origins of winter, the mythological figures associated with it (Demeter and Snegurochka), the unfortunate rap that it gets, from the ‘winter of discontent’ to the PR and marketing ads touting the freedom of summer, The End of Winter is nothing short of an all-encompassing exploration of the season. As much as it seems to jump from one idea to another, Phegan’s performance is phenomenal, controlled in her delivery and keeping us hanging on every word, the sheer amount of information contained in the script well-punctuated with humorous asides and observations, making little blink and you’ll miss it puns. We are endeared to this woman dressed so casually in a blue blouse and pants, her trainers making it seem like she is simply out for a walk while telling us of all of these snowy realms she’s visited and filled her mind with, and we can see it all in our mind’s eye.

What is perhaps what elevates it beyond making us fall in love with winter, is the poignancy of memory and the interpolation of grief that rears its head in between each magical recount. Early on, Phegan’s character talks about leaving her life in Europe behind once she migrated, recalling her childhood in a more temperate region, and just as matter-of-factly as she speaks of her move, also mentions the death of her mother. Initially it isn’t treated like a particularly big deal, with much of the details surrounding it treated and spoken of in a straightforward manner – she was old, there was a funeral she flew back for, she visited some museums in between, and it seems as if the grief has been internalised and gotten over with.

But as she goes on, it becomes crystal clear that there is much more to it than an offhand passing remark. Phegan’s character speaks of her mother having developed a strange obsession with shredding paper in her twilight years, upgrading every so often to better models and finding delight in reducing these sheets to snow-like scraps billowing in the container. It seems inconsequential at first, but later on, in a particularly emotional moment, where she considers the things she has inherited from her mother – spices that are past their expiry date, subscriptions she’s had to cancel, a recipe for mushroom soup the tax office tries to question her about, and of course, the newest paper shredder, her voice on the verge of tears. She speaks of how she thought about words said and words unsaid, and how it often is the case that it is you feel the loss hit hardest when you recall how things used to be, the smallest most unexpected memories in childhood. She makes us feel the full force of how irreversible it all is, and how it hits you most when you least expect it.

All this, combined with Nate Edmondson’s lyrical, lilting and sentimental music, alongside Becky Russell’s soft lighting changes on the curtain behind that ever so subtly shift the mood, is enough to bring one to tears, not necessarily because we think of our own loss, but the loss that is to come. This is further emphasised through Soham Apte’s set design, where the centrepiece is a tiny terrace house, typical of the Australian suburbs, that appears to be half sunken in the black floor, shimmering ever so slightly as if to resemble the surface of an ocean. The lights still on within the ‘house’, we wonder if there are people living in it, realising their own doomed situation as they find themselves in the midst of being submerged, all while Phegan talks about Iceland’s national mourning for the melting of the first glacier lost to climate change, a 16sq km piece of ice reduced to nothing but water in the sea. We are never too far from the spectre of death, be it in the disappearance of snow, or the loss of relations, grieving for what more could we have done to make the regret hurt less.

And so it is that it comes full circle, the passing of a mother intertwining perfectly with the impending doom of our planet, and how winter is set to cease to exist. Apocalyptic descriptions of the worst Australian bushfires, a desperate attempt to artificially re-create snow in the hottest regions, and ultimately, the nostalgia towards what’s gone forever. The End of Winter does not offer a solution, but instead offers a lyrical reflection on what it means to extinguish something that once seemed so constant, an emotionally-charged argument that urges us to think about our capacity for grief and whether we truly will be able to say goodbye to an entire season.

As Phegan ends off, she reminds us all that it is not that we do not have the science to save it, but the lack of political will in those who do have power. And as she perches atop the sinking house and embraces it, we wonder if she is resigned or resistant, her face inscrutable as a sea of fog is blasted out, surrounding her. Is this meant to symbolise steam to indicate that global warming has won? Or is it the ghost of winters past? Either way, this is a production that leaves one spellbound from start to end, a masterclass in storytelling that knows exactly how to shape the imagination and bring us on a journey that is both personal and universal. A breathtaking work of theatre that feels urgent, important and hits hard, as this one woman force of nature pores over histories and archives, traveling from place to place to save herself and the winter of her mind.

Photo credit: Clare Hawley/ Asparay Photographics

Read our interview with Siren Theatre Co. here

The End of Winter played from 8th to 9th January 2025 at the Esplanade Studio Theatre.

The 2025 M1 Singapore Fringe Festival will run from 8th to 19th January 2025. More information and full line-up available here

To contribute towards the Fringe Festival Fund, visit donate.necessary.org or Giving.sg.

Production Credits:

Playwright Noëlle Janaczewska Producer & Director Kate Gaul Performer Jane Phegan Production Design Soham Apte Composer Nate Edmondson Lighting Designer Becky Russell