As I enter the Te Pou theatre foyer, a lot of the audience are casually waiting and talking and suddenly two staunch officers yell out to get out of the way, and we all are startled, and we all intentionally move out of the way. My focus is immediately on the striking officers in full black attire that has a black veil like covering, so we do not see the face. It feels as though everyone’s energy from just talking and smiling dropped into a state of shock and me holding my breath as well as other audience members.
The story (the performance) begins, and I see the officers come in one by one, undressing themselves and as a result they end up on their knees, and when I see their eyes I see distress and a bit of sorrow entrenched in their souls. I see the uniformity in movement choreography but also conveyed in attire and in their moods.
It makes me think about the subtext of what happened historically for Taiwanese people due to their heavy colonial past. And I feel that trauma and I am also in awe of how the officer’s, as they start to grow from two to four to now eight officers, yet they theatrically keep the intensity which is felt throughout the foyer.
The room is an Island, is a strand of memories of Taiwan’s colonial past specifically ranging from 1890 – 2008. It interweaves audio, immersive multimedia art, choreography, singing and heavy truths and themes around the nuanced Taiwanese identity.
I see a new officer comes through who separates the audience in two ways, one being spectators (on the ticket imperial spectators) and another being a part of the participatory participants (on the ticket bodies of the island). As I line up in the spectators section, I see us walk in as if we are unfortunately heading into a concentration camp. As we all enter the theatre we see two new officers welcoming us but they are still intimidating me. This means that the intensity from the first moment the story began in the foyer to now entering the theatre, foreshadows what to expect throughout this story.
As I am guided intensely to sit and to go a certain direction as a spectator, I see the lighting and the audio creating an eerie atmosphere. Then suddenly I hear the participatory participants enter the theatre on my left side of my seat and I hear the officers ask where they are from. Looking them up and down, the officers are not smiling but have such a staunch and scary exterior. I feel as though they (the participants) are getting interrogated, in a sense, to enter the space.
It genuinely makes me think about the concepts of this show of it being militarised, impactful, feeling themes of being precarious in the space, oppressed, alienated and being forced to assimilate to nationalism and displacement.
Gradually we turn our attention to the audio as it is extremely piercing and deafening, as well as hearing a elderly person speak faintly in the background. The way this person is orating in the space, makes me try to decipher what they are saying. It makes me wonder am I feeling even more disenfranchised or strangely comforted? Pondering on those questions, the attention is drawn to the immersive multimedia art crouching forward and the amplification being so prevalent. It is abstract yet literal, but we enter the 1930-1945 Kōminka period (Japanisation). And I can feel myself being tense, as it is confronting but powerful. Inevitably I have to sit with these feelings as it makes me feel the intergenerational trauma in different parts of the performance showing.
Significantly, the dancers arrive and some come up in close proximity to the audience and are checking the audience’s eyes, mouth, teeth, tongue. I believe the direction for this maybe was to have themes of violation, as this happened increasingly during the Kōminka period.
As I continue to watch, I feel the pursuit of freedom, which was physically shown in aspects from the dancers (Deborah Fletcher, Emma Broad, Evie Logan, Lara Chuo, Lulu Qiu, Naive Wilson, Minami Otaki and Zoe White). I see the dancers being so in sync with each-other choreographically but also I see the physical theatre motifs which are clever too. They use space well, and I see them salute to a flag, potentially showing the enforced propaganda of the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere”. I contemplate these images and continue to decipher this performance as a spectator.
The symbolism of a sweater used as a flag feels ghostly and haunting, translating in my mind to nationalism in a profound way as I continue to view this piece. I am being provoked by the silhouette moments which evoke the sense of police-state control when the participants are being influenced (just like propaganda and indoctrination) by the dancers.
As I watch this performance I realise how complex and abstract it is trying to creatively show Taiwan’s colonial past (from 1930 – 1945 Kōminka, to 1949 – 1996 White Terror and Democracy to the ending of the 2008 Embassy).
In key moments that I feel in the space and what I view from a person of colour perspective (not being Taiwanese), I sense throughout the play the active sympathy and sorrow around colonisation, indoctrination, imperial invasion, nationalism, war, and political corruption.
As a reviewer, I acknowledge that this powerful performance is complex and historical, that the historical trauma from a Taiwanese diasporic perspective around marginalisation and displacement is felt in my body and in my spirit that I am still left in awe of how intense the performance is.
In retrospect, this shows me that the concept(s), choreography, lighting, theatre blocking, directing, immersive multimedia art and so forth show immense talent and skill to make me and the audience feel these heavy emotions and themes. Attesting to the brilliance and significance of this work and the people involved.
Especially to Yin Chi Lee, your heart, creativity and unequivocal determined vision for this performance to offer truth to your narrative that many people may face in Taiwan and in the diaspora currently show the major importance of a show like this in a place and country like this in Aotearoa. For this to be shown and getting the funding needed (Creative NZ, Foundation North and Creative Henderson Massey) is a testament to how vital ‘The Room is an Island ‘ show is, as it delivered truth and awareness which will be felt in our bodies and memories for a long time.
Review by Iatua Richard Felagai Taito