Although this production is set after the end of the world, it is actually about what happened before everything was gone. Written and performed by Elisabeth Gunawan, the play Stampin' in the Graveyard has a unique way of drawing the audience into this lonely and beautiful world.
In the wake of the apocalypse, the only thing left in the deserted world is Rose, an AI chatbot. Inside the black box that powers her are bits and pieces of memories about her creators. In the last theatre still open on this earth, Rose pieces together the memories of these two people in a jumbled order from existing data and her own associations, with the memories ending on the day the world ends. The narrator is Rose alone, and we only get to know these two creators, referred to as Mom and Dad, through their voices.
One of the things that makes this production special is the use of headphones (Orest Sharak). Before Rose begins telling the story, she signals the audience to put on the headphones. This creates the sensation that all the sounds are coming near our ears: Rose's voice, the voices of the two creators, their footsteps, and even the sound of ice cubes clinking in a glass of wine. Music (Jack Parris and Orest Sharak) is also used extensively, making it emotionally easier to be transported to the setting that Rose is narrating. Additionally, the use of headphones adds a tinge of loneliness. Even though there are plenty of people in the audience, they seem to be separated by the headphones.
The stage set (Mona Camille) is quite empty. Before the play begins, all that can be seen is a huge plastic sheet and the black box (which is carved with the shadows of the fragments of the daily lives of a man and a woman) that can be seen vaguely through it. After the plastic sheet is lifted, it reveals Rose, who has been lying underneath it, and a battered accordion. The stage lighting (Natalia Chan) is dim most of the time, sometimes drenched in blue light, sometimes there are only a few beams of dull yellow light, and many times there is no light at all, with Rose's silhouette only vaguely illuminated by the faint orange or blue light emanating from the black box. At the back of the stage is a huge screen (Elisabeth Gunawan), which usually shows Rose's programme code and sometimes shows the contents of Rose's database.
Gunawan uses a voice that lacks emotion throughout her performance and always carries pauses in her movements. It's a great way to clearly show her identity as an AI without seeming stiff. As the voices of the two creators come through the headphones, she opens her mouth and makes the corresponding facial expressions, as if the data is actually being transmitted from her to the audience.
There is also a great deal of interaction applied in this performance. While Rose is organizing the data, she occasionally gives the audience two options - which are presented simultaneously on the big screen - and the audience can make their choices through gestures. In return, Rose performs the next action based on the option that the majority of the audience selects and even responds to the audience's choices with different attitudes. This whole process is very comfortable and with some humour.
In addition, multiple languages are used in this production. When Bahasa Indonesia, Chinese, English, and Polish are intermingled one after another, it is as if Rose's language system has been confused in this post-apocalyptic world, thus emphasizing Rose's identity as an AI. It's also worth noting that although most of the music is light music played solely by instruments, one of the songs is The Moon Represents My Heart (Parris and Sharak), sung by Teresa Teng in 1977, which adds a nostalgic touch to the whole atmosphere.
If there could be more improvements, it's that the story of the two creators selectively shown in the 60-minute time frame could have been a little more gripping. Now, because of the time constraints, it's hard to dig deeper into the relationship between the two, and what's shown is slightly monotonous and repetitive at times. But based on the fact that this is a memory pieced together by Rose, the way the story is represented is reasonable enough. And even if there's room to keep digging into the story's plot, Stampin' in the Graveyard is engaging as it is.
While many boisterous apocalyptic-themed productions already exist, this show presents a lonely and romantic apocalyptic world. Perhaps, without love, music, literature, and all kinds of other arts, the world would not be far from fading away.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4*)
Gifted tickets in return for an honest review
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