Breaking the bloody iceberg

Teerawat Mulvilai knows he's being watched onstage. In his case specifically, it is with extreme scrutiny, a sense of wonder and perplexity. Standing very still seems just as significant as when he moves. He's done it many times before, namely in the first two instalments of his solo performance in Satapana (Establishment), which were Red Tank followed by Iceberg, last year.

And he did it again in Iceberg, The Invisible, the last instalment which began last week and will run until this Saturday at the Democrazy Theatre Studio.  

Iceberg, The Invisible is an obvious tribute to 14 embattled anti-coup activists and Thailand's recent political woes (they were arrested, jailed and released last week) and the roughly one-hour performance is a haunting trip into a certain dictator's private studio, the headquarters, or shall we say "a laboratory".

In Red Tank, Teerawat played a victim. Barefoot and worn out, he plunged himself into self-torture through semi-improvisational movements surrounded by red oil barrels.

In Iceberg, he was this brightly-clad jaunty perpetrator who had gone smashing slabs of ice lying around the stage.

In this instalment, we finally get to meet the big boss, a stately-clad masked man we saw dragging a throne around in the production's teaser. A scooter, signifying an element of humour and the deadly innocence from Iceberg, is still here and Teerawat rides around on it as the audience settle into their seats. Then there is a full minute of complete silence and contemplation as the man sitting down sets the pace and tone of the whole show.

As opposed to Chulalongkorn University's Sodsai Pantoomkomol Centre for Dramatic Arts where Iceberg was staged, there's considerably less ice at Democrazy Theatre Studio, not only because of the space limitation but also because this is supposed to be the headquarters — not the open field of slaughter like last time. This command post is superstitious rather than technologically advanced, the table at the centre of the stage holds two clay voodoo dolls and a row of laboratory tubes. Underneath, a number of glass jars contain, among other unidentifiable objects, folded papers and a Thai puppet doll soaked in water.

There's only one block of ice left in this production and displayed on a stand, it is treated as if a terminally ill patient. Aside from a blood-filled IV bag hung nearby with a fluid line entwining the ice block, a few syringes are also shown, which Teerawat uses to inject blood into the ice from time to time, as if to keep the tortured thing from dying.

Compared to the first two episodes, this instalment is more easily accessible, both in terms of the plot and symbolism. A considerable amount of time was devoted to Teerawat's sorcery rituals, from moulding clay into birds, feeding them with food also made from clay before crushing them with his hands, folding pieces of paper ripped from a book he reads and putting them in a jar, to exploding the voodoo doll head through his chemical reaction mix.

Similar to the previous instalments, music is incorporated into the show when Teerawat puts on a vinyl with Rodgers and Hammerstein's tunes from the musical The King And I. A familiar track like Getting To Know You conjures up in the audience's mind the scene in which actress Deborah Kerr, in the 1956 film adaptation, sings affectionately to the children and wives of the King of Siam. Accompanying Teerawat's sinister ritual, the sweet song is given a twist. Yes, Teerawat wants to get to know "the children", the people under his control, too, but the purpose couldn't be more different. One scene in particular, in which Teerawat slowly arranges a number of red-tinged cups, is reminiscent of red barrels in Red Tank, only this time Teerawat can move them around with just the tip of his finger. This is even more obvious when the recorded sound of Teerawat when he locked himself and screamed inside the barrel in the first episode is being used in this show.

An obvious reference to 14 anti-coup activists, specifically the members of the Dao Din group, is when he used the clay nipped off the body of the burnt voodoo doll and stuck bits and pieces on the wall. Later Teerawat uses knitting wool to link these spots of clay together into a constellation. In Thai, dao means stars while din means soil.

But because a number of elements are similar to Iceberg, the question remaining is whether or not this final episode is more of an extension, an updated version as opposed to a completely independent instalment like the first two were and like some members of the audience, including myself, would have wanted.

The rest of the story isn't hard to follow. A heart-like lump was brought out from that block of ice but it is indestructible despite various methods applied. This is when the weak side of the dictator, who's up to now calm and cold, appears. Finally, with rage, he smashes the ice with a sledgehammer.   

While the first two instalments were more about the state of his characters, consequently making them more elusive and perplexing, Teerawat's character in Iceberg, The Invisible is mainly about what the character does in quite a straightforward way. But whichever one prefers, it's always best to sit in the front row where fragments of ice will sure enough come hurling at you.

- Iceberg, The Invisible