★★☆☆☆ Review: Animal Farm by The Finger Players

All puppets are equal, but some are more equal than others, in The Finger Players’ messy adaptation of Orwell’s classic.

Ever since it hit bookstores, George Orwell’s Animal Farm has risen to fame as a ferocious allegory of the Russian Revolution and the rise of Stalinism, now studied across schools and touted as a timeless, universal cautionary tale about how revolutions may lead to the very thing they rebelled against, how propaganda shapes reality, and at the heart of it all, how power corrupts. But in The Finger Players’ new adaptation, the source material ends up misrepresented, going too far into adding its own spin to it that it loses the original spirit and message of the core allegory to begin with.

Directed and written by Oliver Chong, this adaptation Animal Farm is an ambitious but deeply flawed puppet-theatre production that falters on multiple levels. Closely following the original narrative, Animal Farm sees a group of farm animals overthrow their owner when they realise they are being mistreated. When tasked to manage the farm on their own, the dream of building a utopian society founded on fairness and equality quickly falls apart when the intelligent pigs take charge, utilising propaganda and violence to manipulate the other animals, and engage in a totalitarian, tyrannical regime far worse than they ever experienced.

Where The Finger Players trips up is in trying to layer the story and its Communist themes to a Chinese context. Because the original story is so closely linked to the actual Russian Revolution, transposing it onto a Chinese setting makes little sense. For a company that has made a name for themselves with puppet theatre, it’s also concerning how the puppets themselves, designed by Loo An Ni, are a visual and functional failure. Meant to represent the animals, they are grotesque in form, with misshapen heads and skeletal bodies that could be taken to represent the ugliness of corruption, but ends up making it difficult for audiences to connect with them. Worse, the puppets squeak and creak audibly with each motion, a constant reminder of their artifice. Their feet hover awkwardly above the stage floor while the puppeteers’ legs remain visible, breaking any kind of immersion of the puppets coming to life.

Animal Farm begins somewhat on a promising note, with a sombre rendition of Beasts of England, with some dramatic moments such as Jessie the dog’s death. But the cracks begin to show with Old Major’s impassioned final speech, which is meant to be a grandiose, emotional anchor, is instead delivered in an odd, affected Chinese accent, devoid of any gravitas. This is just the beginning of the show’s inconsistent and troubling accent work. Characters (including farmers, pigs, and hens) randomly lapse into exaggerated “China man” voices with no clear justification, making for a tonal and cultural mismatch that distracts and alienates rather than enriches, bordering on crude caricature and, at times, xenophobic misrepresentation

By layering modern Chinese associations over a narrative originally critiquing Soviet totalitarianism, the production ends up muddying both. Rather than offering thoughtful commentary on China’s political landscape, the accents and portrayals feel like lazy shorthand for corruption and moral decay. The inclusion of American accents (Squealer), British-sounding voices (Pilkington), and inconsistent dialects across animals contributes even more to sloppy world-building, as if the production wants to gesture vaguely at global parallels without fully thinking through the implications, and points accusatory fingers at any and every global superpower.

Structurally, the show is also a mess. Napoleon’s rise is rushed and confusing. Conversations between characters are disjointed, while important beats, such as the building of the windmill, are executed through baffling staging that does not know where reality begins and ends. Animals carry pieces on their heads, a donkey awkwardly raises a hoof for minutes, and human stagehands openly manipulate props in full view. Any symbolism is smothered by logistical awkwardness. When the windmill is destroyed, we’re given a poorly animated sequence, undercutting the supposed tragedy of the moment. The decision to have the farmer blow himself up in the explosion (a detail not in the novel) appears to be played for humour, but lands as a jarring tonal misstep, where we laugh uncomfortably and do not feel for the animals’ loss.

From here, the production continues to spiral. Hens suddenly fly about, despite being flightless chickens, and later scenes devolve into chaos, with ear-splitting hen confessions, clumsy group choreography, and poorly timed comedic beats. The animation returns, again failing to meaningfully augment the live performance. Even Bluebell’s revelation that she’s been silenced by the pigs comes far too late and without the emotional buildup to make it land or feel of significance.

That being said, as Napoleon and his regime continue to lie about production figures and inflated profits, insisting things are improving when the reality is clearly deteriorating, the parallels to today’s political landscape become striking. This section is one of the few moments where the adaptation finds some clarity and resonance. The delivery, though stylised, captures the manipulation of truth in a way that feels relevant and intentional. A large part of why this succeeds is due to the sincere and emotional delivery and puppetry work from some of the more experienced performers, with Ric Liu as a chillingly composed Napoleon, Tan Rui Shan as the sycophantic and slippery Squealer, Darren Guo as the tragically loyal Boxer, and Yazid Jalil as the weary, observant Benjamin. These actors bring a degree of cohesion and nuance that’s otherwise largely absent elsewhere.

There is one scene with promise: Boxer’s tragic belief that “Napoleon wouldn’t lie…” as he’s sent off to die, and hints at the potential this play could have had, if they leaned more into the inherent pathos and emotion of the source material. But the puppets, still expressionless and awkward, sabotage the moment of what could have been. Again, it is the human actor emoting, not the puppet, so what then, is the point of this form if the puppets aren’t doing the storytelling? We appreciate them trying their best, but with uncertain direction, all their effort goes to waste in this mess of a show.

In the final act, the pigs drink whisky, gamble, and adorn themselves with ribbons in a parody of humanity’s tendency to self-reward. The rules change arbitrarily, and Pilkington “wins” a card game through cheating. By this time, the animals and the audience are exhausted. Bluebell is begged to run away, in a painfully earnest slow-motion sequence that’s meant to feel redemptive. But by then, too much has been lost. The message, like the staging, is muddled.

The production ends on Orwell’s iconic line: “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.” Yet here, it rings hollow, thanks to how The Finger Players seem more interested in stylised chaos and surface-level political critique than in respecting the moral clarity and precision that makes Orwell’s work so enduring. By attempting to loosely associate Orwell’s critique of Stalinist Russia with modern China through inconsistent, exaggerated accents and cartoonish portrayals, this production of Animal Farm loses both historical context and ethical grounding, confusing rather than enlightening us to the fundamental truth of the human condition. Fumbling one of the most important political allegories of the 20th century, there are fragments and snippets of what could have been, but this is a revolution that squeaks rather than roars, lost to a clumsy concept, design and direction.

Photo Credit: Moonrise Studio, courtesy of Arts House Limited

Animal Farm ran from 16th to 18th May 2025 at the Drama Centre Theatre.

The 2025 Singapore International Festival of Arts runs from 16th May to 1st June 2025. Tickets and more available here

Production Credits:

Bakchormeeboy

Reviewer&Critic

★★☆☆☆ Review: Animal Farm by The Finger Players

All puppets are equal, but some are more equal than others, in The Finger Players’ messy adaptation of Orwell’s classic.

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All puppets are equal, but some are more equal than others, in The Finger Players’ messy adaptation of Orwell’s classic.

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