By Alexandra A. Seno & Santha Oorjitham
Go to a story about actors Kay Tong and Kay Siu
SINGAPORE HAS OFTEN BEEN an object of envy. For its affluence, its discipline, its skilled workforce, its immaculate streets. The Lion City prides itself on these qualities. But it also craves something more: admiration for its soul. The metropolis built on high tech and high finance dreams of becoming a Nanyang New York, a Cannes-on-the-South China Sea. Of becoming "the regional hub of the arts."
Earlier this year, its minister for information and the arts, Brigadier-General George Yeo, pronounced Singapore well on the way to achieving that goal. By the 21st century, it could become a "renaissance city" for information and culture. And the government has invested accordingly.
The most concrete proof of this great expectation lies on the waterfront of the Marina Bay business district, on the south of the island. Here, construction workers labor on what will be the $344 million Singapore Arts Center. The futuristic edifice is to feature a honeycomb roof billed as an architectural innovation tailored for the tropical climate. Due to open in 2001, the first phase will house a 1,800-seat concert hall and a 2,000-seat theater.
That may not be much help to local groups which regularly complain about a lack of performance space. "More venues with 500 to 600 seats would be ideal," says impresario and entertainer Dick Lee. "Theaters are booked up to two years in advance." Singapore currently has five main venues which seat between 300 and 1,700 people. Ong Keng Sen of TheatreWorks, a local drama company, reckons the new arts center is too big. Not for the Lloyd Webber musicals and other lavish international shows likely to attract audiences from outside Singapore: the enormous venue is likely to make it more cost-effective to put on such productions.
But a cultural capital isn't built only on steel and stone. Increasingly large amounts of money have been put into nurturing an imaginative community. This year, the National Arts Council and the National Heritage Board spent about $30 million to support the arts. The board, which runs three museums, and the council, tasked with development, each operates on an annual budget of $18 million, mostly drawn from national coffers.
Artists, individually and collectively, receive more direct official support in Singapore than in any other Southeast Asian nation. Last year, the council contributed $1.2 million in rental subsidies and grants worth $2.4 million. There is also aggressive promotion and support for such activities as the Singapore International Film Festival, now in its 10th year, and the Festival of Asian Performing Arts -- showcases for both local and regional talent. The results are promising.
"We have a very vibrant arts scene," says Ekachai Uekrongtham, 35. The Thai-born resident is head of Action Theatre, a repertory group whose plays and musicals are popular among yuppies. "More often than not, in Singapore, we have premieres of original and indigenous works and we have different types of work and different players carving their niches."
Theater has led the recent boom in the arts scene. In fact, ask any sociable resident about what's hip and happening in town and he or she is likely to mention a recent stage performance. For a tiny place with only 3.1 million citizens, Singapore supports more than 14 active theater groups. There's a wide range of genres, from Broadway-style musicals to traditional epics, and each has a growing following. These days, culture vultures can no longer just presume to buy tickets at the door. Often, shows are sold out weeks in advance. When Action Theatre set the tale of the world's most famous Siamese twins to song in Chang & Eng, all 900 seats were taken at each performance during its debut in June. The response was just as enthusiastic for a second run of 10 shows last month.
"A young playwright has a better chance of getting his work performed here," says Roger Jenkins, artistic director of Dramaplus Arts, a group dedicated to educating students about theater. "Young audiences are willing to experiment." And artists eager to try something new.
Much the same applies to cinema. Singapore's international film festival earlier this year premiered three new local works. There was a lot of celebration. After all, that was as many flicks as they made in the past five years combined. A Singapore film industry? "One swallow doesn't make a summer," says Meileen Choo, chief executive of film producer and distributor Cathay Organization. "The industry is very much in its infancy and we have a long way to go."
Even so, the annual showcase has clearly spurred aspiring directors. "I wouldn't be doing films without the festival," says Eric Khoo, whose 12 Storeys was invited to screen in a non-competitive section at Cannes this year. The 34-year-old director first gained recognition for his short works -- a category which draws a lively collection of entries each year. "It is a platform for young movie-makers," says Khoo.
For film-makers in the region, Singapore has already become a post-production center. Indonesian director Garin Nugroho, who served as a judge at this year's international film festival, says he often flies in from Jakarta because facilities are much better in the city-state. He also lauds the film fest as the best-organized event for Southeast Asian movies. "Singapore is a harbor for many countries around Asia," he says.
Minister Yeo takes a "light-handed" approach to encourage creative ferment. Indeed, actor-director Lim Kay Tong says need for government grants has "never stopped us doing what we want." Nevertheless, there are clear limits for Singapore's artistic community. Among the no-nos: anything that erodes the moral values of society and subverts the nation's security and stability. Every play still requires a public entertainment license.
Since 1993, some 31 groups have been "exempted" from sending their scripts for vetting. But the plays must still be filed for "record" purposes, and organizers have to change those sections deemed controversial before a show opens. Elsewhere, that might not be a much of a concession. But to Uekrongtham, it is a "good turning point."
An ex-member of a censorship review panel, Philip Jeyaretnam, says "the genuine guidelines have certainly loosened." At least, theater groups are heartened enough to tackle themes ranging from racism to censorship and homosexuality. Politics remains largely untouched, however. It may be that many in the arts circles are like Lim, who says: "I learned to work within the parameters."
Jeyaretnam believes a drop in the tolerance barometer in 1994 has left a lingering impression. That year, two students were banned ever performing again after their shows were deemed a risk to public order and decency. Prominent figures from a drama group, The Necessary Stage, were also accused by The Straits Times of being trained in Marxist techniques. The troupe continued to receive sponsorhip, but the labelling sent shivers down many spines. "How are you going to get young artists to come forward?" asks Ong. "They are very afraid and cautious because of the 1994 incident." Still, that's a quibble to the director. "There are many ways to speak about an issue. And the constraints can sometimes lead to more artistic solutions."
Like most organizers, Ong believes funding remains the greatest constraint to Singapore's burgeoning arts scene. Ong cites Lear, his avant-garde interpretation of Shakespeare's tragedy flavored with elements of Indonesian martial arts, Noh drama and Beijing opera -- and performed in different languages by a multi-national cast, half Singaporean, a good part Japanese, with a sprinkling of other Asians. The ambitious TheaterWorks project premiered in Tokyo on September 9 and will tour Osaka and Fukuoka. To Ong, the irony is that although the concept and driving force has been Singaporean, most of the funding was Japanese. "This is a production which looks at what Singapore and Asia will be in the 21st century. Shouldn't this have been supported [locally]?"
Fellow director Lim points to increasing difficulty in raising sponsors. The funding pie may be bigger but it has to be shared between a mushrooming number of groups. Indigenous groups need all the help they can get, Lim says. "[Flourishing local productions] is what will draw people," he argues, "not the mega shows."
But with much of the attention and cash going to high-profile festivals, some are concerned about the survival of smaller groups, the real people behind the arts. Says William Teo, 40, artistic director of Asia in Theatre Research: "Singapore is so rich, there is a certain vulgarity. We could build the best theaters and bring in the best shows, but what do we truly have as artists?"
Others fret about a trend toward style over substance. "The focus is on slick production values, with insufficient emphasis on the depth of subject matter," says Jeyaretnam. Some troupes tend to sensationalize issues of sexuality, "perhaps because that brings in the crowds." Singapore writers can and should tackle underlying social issues, Jeyaretnam argues. "If you're exploring sensitive matters in good faith, there is no reason you're going to be penalized." Maybe. But few are likely to put his views to the test. Actor Lim Kay Siu sums up: "We want to hold a mirror up to society but it depends on how much the authorities and the people want that mirror."
The arts community points to other structural hurdles to becoming a regional beacon for cultural activity. Remesh Panicker of the Singapore Repertory Theater, for example, calls for a guild to negotiate lower rentals for venues, help with insurance and tackle wage issues. But given the government's determination, few doubt that it will fail in its task. "Singapore gets what it wants most of the time," says Uekrongtham. But as the city state tries to forge a prime role in regional arts, it will have to grapple with what kinds of expression it will tolerate and how much. "Art is an important means for Singapore, as a major international city, to get into its own character," says one Singaporean art personality. The question is: what kind of character?
