It’s exhausting being a skeptic, especially when you find that your doubting attitude is well-justified. We went to catch Ivan Heng’s Emily of Emerald Hill (written by Stella Kon and directed by Glen Goei) thinking there was no way in hell a man could play the role of such a magnetic, tragic-stricken woman, and left severely corrected.
For a start, the theater was jam-packed with the who’s who of the local scene—thespians, friends and family of thespians, newspaper and magazine critics and even the President and his wife were there. The atmosphere was pulsating, like a family reunion of sorts.
When Heng appeared in a beautiful sarong kebaya that naturally sculpted a full-bodied womanly figure for him, giggles resonated in the audience; not out of scorn but out of joy as if they were meeting an old friend. While a little shaky at first (who wouldn’t be with those never-ending lines?), Heng picked up very quickly after the first two scenes, with bits of audience interaction strewn into the script. We had two favorite moments: One when Emily taunted the latecomers (“All the people here can park; you cannot park?”) and another during the sewing class scene, when the first row was asked to look into their sewing box (which had been thoughtfully placed under each of their chairs). All we could think of then was, “Want that sewing box.”
As Emily transited from being an abandoned child pining for her mother to the wife of a rich, powerful man who later wins the hearts of the household, then to an overzealous mother, the audience is taken on a breathtaking journey through immense life experiences, mind-altering domestic situations and the extravagant Peranakan culture. Such is the impact that Emily of Emerald Hill has made—its written word, set design, choreography and styling are almost seamless together, addressing everything, and yet boiling down to only one—love.
