Students grapple with trauma and pain in a physically-demanding work led by Noor Effendy Ibrahim.

Back in 2011, Noor Effendy Ibrahim performed a durational work titled Dancing with the Ghost of My Child at the Substation, in which he engaged in a form of ritualistic self-flagellation and masochism for an unspecified amount of time. For those familiar with Effendy’s work, this visceral image is par for the course, and ideas of finding meaning (or a lack thereof) in pain and suffering are a consistent theme he has explored across his performance research.

14 years on, Dancing with the Ghost of My Child has found new life as it is resurrected for the M1 Singapore Fringe Festival, only, it is instead being performed by a group of students from Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts’ BA (Honours) in Performance Making program. Crafted in collaboration with choreographer Ruby Jayaseelan and sound artists ANTARMUKA (Syafiq Halid and Rosemainy Buang), this work may share a name with its predecessor, but has been reimagined for this next generation, its title forming the basis for the students to forge an emotional and critical response to, and relate it to their own stories of trauma as they devise a brand new performance.

Described as an experimental, physical theatre work, Dancing with the Ghost of My Child inherits the ritualistic qualities of its namesake, and considers the nature of regret and a self-imposed prison of the mind. While there is a script split into acts and scenes penned by some members of the ensemble, it remains deliberately abstract throughout the play, often feeling like snatches of passing thought, or like witnessing a tortured psyche trapped in an eternal cycle of pain, unable to forgive one’s self and move on. In that sense, the performance becomes an experiment in form and rigour, as it pushes its young performers to physical limits and possibly, mental ones as well.

Dressed in similar outfits, all fitted with billowing skirts, it can be hard to tell each performer apart, with the ensemble melting into a relatively cohesive whole, thanks to Ruby Jayaseelan’s choreography. Milling around the space, utilising their entire bodies, there are plenty of moments where they feel like wandering, tortured souls seeking some kind of salvation, or worse, when they all fall upon each other and become a writhing phalanx, engaged partly in an act of self-cannibalisation, at times bursting into pained smiles from the absurdity of it all. There is always something to witness the performers doing onstage, and it is testament to their efforts that they maintain the strength required to keep up the energy throughout the entire show.

The ominous mood is also enhanced by ANTARMUKA’s music, breaking into haunting melodies and the occasional refrain of a Javanese song that warps and changes with each iteration till it is no longer recognisable, save for the surtitles indicating its presence. All this while a hanging wok has performers stirring what sound like rice grains, and the amplified sound of dripping from water stored in intravenous drips attached to the same apparatus create a greater sense of unease, finding the unfamiliar in the seemingly ordinary.

While there is not much forward movement in the performance itself, there are certainly plenty of gripping, if difficult to comprehend, moments that see individual cast members seemingly possessed at different times by an invisible spirit as a floral headpiece is passed around, pushing them towards confessing their greatest fears, or egging on other performers to continue wallowing in self-pity and hate. There are references made to Rama and Devi, though the relationship is never made particularly clear, and even a moment where a more hopeful character attempts to pull the others out of their depressed modes, only to be rejected and chased away. As the play progresses, the floral headpiece is eventually torn apart, its shredded flaming orange petals scattered across the stage, certainly representative of blood and carnage to symbolise the trauma experienced by all in the space.

What is certain is that Noor Effendy Ibrahim has left a clear mark on these students, his signature style present across the entire work, and these 17 students have certainly risen to the challenge in giving it their all. While there is a lot of raw emotion and energy put onstage that begins to feel repetitive after some time, the moments where they fall into blood-curdling screams, or you see them fall to the floor in complete defeat is when you know they have truly let go and the line between performance and experience is blurred. The ghost of their childhoods, their pasts, continue to haunt their psyche, but if the ending is anything to go by, it is clear that one requires willpower of one’s own to begin healing before it can actually happen, and this dance of death becomes one of hope instead.

Photo Credit: Alex Chua

Read our interview with Noor Effendy Ibrahim and Ruby Jayaseelan here

Dancing With The Ghost of My Child plays from 9th to 12th January 2025 at the NAFA Theatre Studio. Tickets available from Book My Show

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:

Director Noor Effendy Ibrahim Choreorapher Ruby Jayaseelan Sound Artist ANTARMUKA Lighting Designer Faith Liu Yong Huay Costume Co-ordinator Loo An Ni Production Co-ordinator Hira Osman Production Stage Manager Afiszan Amart Assistant Stage Manager & Surtitlist Natalie Linn Titus Lighting Operator Muhammad Mikail Bin Noraini Sound Engineer Alif Daniel Bin Ahmad Yani Playwrights & Performers Elvira Foo Jing Yun, Gregory Kong Ka-ee, Lee Zhi Qi, Lex (Li Zhiqi), Liu Qintong, Amelia Ensemble Dipeeka Shah, Elena Zhang Qi Wan, Elvira Foo Jing Yun, Goh Kia Kiang, Trinity, Gregory Kong Ka-Ee, Hofbauer Nicole Katarina, Kaiko Natan Sasmita, Ko Fan Xuan, Shannen, Lee Dian Qing, Cassandra, Lee Zhi Qi, Lex (Li Zhiqi), Li Jianing, Liu Cintong, Amelia, Max Yeo Zhen Yu, Seah Min, Shermaine, Tan Li Ching, Thasha Monique Dharmendra, Yee Xin Ru, Grace