mardi gras.
written: 12:17 p.m. on Sunday, Aug. 01, 2004

Uh, okay.

The upsides:

1. Hossan Leong fucking rules. He's hot. And he's hilarious. And he's absolutely, mind-blowingly brilliant. He completely stole the show, and guess what? I shook his hand! Wahoo!

2. The play rocked when it was comedic. It took digs at the government (the one about PM Goh leaving office soon really got me, as did the ones about the not-so-recent announcement by the government that it is opened to gay civil servants), the one-liners were fantastic and Hossan Leong! Did I mention how funny he is? Like, so stupendously, side-splittingly hilarious? Get the picture?

3. Uh, I'd have to think about it.

Seriously, I think it should have went without the interval. The second half left me feeling cheated. They were building up this great, almost climatic plot, and I was expecting this huge bombastic finish, but no. The ending was cliche, awfully hackneyed, and the stupid video presentation on some Singaporeans ruminating on the importance of accepting homosexuality or whatever bullshit that wrapped up the whole thing was saccharine to the extent of me almost fucking throwing up.

"I want to be loved." Yeah, whatever. So do straight people (I'm exempted, of course). Say something more original lah.

If you want to spread a message, and mind you, it is one with which I whole-heartedly agree, please do it with more class, sophistication and subtlety. Such in-your-face things are usually reserved for productions designed for secondary schools or a hall of Science stream students. I thought it was supposed to resemble art at the very least. What I saw, the ending anyway, was nowhere close.

Another gripe: Some of the emotional scenes were slightly over-the-top. Maybe it's a theatrical pitfall, when one takes into consideration the limitations of theatre and how actors have to exaggerate movements to get to the people at the back, but I'm sorry, I was sitting in the first row and oh my god, we are talking about copious tears to the very fucking extremes. Too bloody much. I wanted to laugh at Alex when he was crying, Irene Ang made me cringe and shake in silent laughter (she is so much better as Rosie in Phua Chu Kang), and what the fuck was with the pseudo-emo music in the background whenever someone was crying on stage? Talk about extreme overkill! It was exactly a replica of scenes out of one of those awfully rehashed and crappy Hollywood tear-jerkers, whereby strings play harmoniously and oh-so-melancholically in the background whenever someone is met with a fortunate turn of events for once, yada yada yada.

And the worst thing? The play ended with a goddamn group hug (that is, before the stupid video). Oh god. I was half-expecting the fucking Teletubbies to show up.

Hence, Mardi Gras was entertaining at best. Didn't touch me in a profound, life-changing manner... okay, it didn't help that I've always been indifferent towards a person's sexual orientation, in the sense that I don't care who you're inclined towards fucking as long as I can click with you, but honestly, I didn't empathise with any of the characters. It did nothing for me except to make me laugh. Of course, that's a great achievement but after the laughter has died down, you'd kind of expect something more, of a higher level, and in that sense, Mardi Gras sucked cock.

Oh well. I still can't see myself doing the whole theatre thing though. I was sitting beside these twenty-something adults, listening to their conversations, and... to put it simply, I wanted to hurl at how pretentious they sounded. And it was the whole black/formal/evening dress/casual formal/bullshit garb, and Mel and I got carded because we wore mini-skirts, and I could have sworn that I got odd glances from some of those stiff-collared and stuffy adult members of the audience and I do not want to take that route at all.

I mean, my consensus is, do what you want, but it does not mean that I have to a) like it; and b) keep quiet about it if I dislike it. Film fest crowds are not much different but at least you don't get stares for wearing a short pink skirt.

If I were to compare Mardi Gras with this sexually-charged, obscenity-ridden (and we're talking Hokkien curses here, very gross) Taiwanese production that I went for during the Arts Fest, Butterflies, I would say, without a doubt, that the latter is a much more superior production. Yes, I cringed through the entire thing as my mom was with me, but at least I felt the impact. I didn't feel much but my funny bones being tickled last night.

Anyway, had a blast with Mel nonetheless. We really should do this more often, so curse the bloody exams. I finally met her friend Reilly, who is like, bloody drop-dead gorgeous. He looks better in person than he does in photos. Too bad he's gay.

I have to do some History essay and I have to go for tuition later on so I better get started.

One thing I really resent about History essays: I'm always stuck at the introductory paragraph. Always at a loss of what to write, how to write, shit like that, and I'm kind of shackled down by some dumb-arse requirements, some shit about needing to present a balanced argument.

What the hell is the point? None of us are really balanced in our judgement anyway. I can't wait to get rid of the A Levels once and for all.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010