Mansur & Liu: Malaysian theater's success is back?

WHEN speaking of large-scale modern theater, fans of the performing arts must remember the memories of The Princess of Mount Pleasant staged at the Palace of Culture over two decades ago.

That's because the production feels so weird for a kid like a writer who only knows theater through what's on stage.

However, that perspective began to change when the author started studying theatre formally early in elementary school, through a teacher, Dila Abdul Halim whose development so far the writer follows closely.

Dila is among the most respected names in the local theatre industry.

Writer involvement became more active at the ivory tower level, an understanding that slowly found its form, that a play was not just a heroic actor conveying dialogue, but present alongside a complete 'army' made up of cases of production energy, time, money, technicality and no less commitment.

Maybe that's why, when you get the chance to watch Mansur & Liu, there is something that feels pretty close to the big picture that all these years writers have known about theater.

Under the direction of maestro and legendary patriotic art, Grandpa M. Nasir, the production comes at an incredible scale, has its own energy and a fairly mega production value, so it's hard not to be impressed.

There's certainly room for refinement right there, which is normal in any play, but it's too small to absorb the excitement that's been present for three hours.

As an observer and enthusiast who once knew the theatre from a narrow room, I had the opportunity to witness several performances in London's West End, between stages that became the pulse of modern theatrical tradition.

The experience of watching Mansur & Liu made the author think that the distance between what we're capable of producing here and the large-scale stage production we've ever seen there may not be as far as we've imagined.

From the cinematography, stage design, lighting and choreography to the entire scale of its production, it all felt big enough to make the audience stop for a moment admiring what lay in front of their eyes.

All the more so when the world that has long been seen through television and movies finally comes to life on stage, thus giving a different appreciation to the potential of local artistic energy.

As a green media activist, however, the author has personally tried several times to elevate and highlight small-to-medium theatrical staging through television mirrors, at least to give space and exposure to productions that may not have big names behind them.

And from there, the bigger question arises, is it really a leap forward?

The problem is not that we lack talent or work, but rather that we have a treasure trove of stories and history that's thick enough to continue exploring, translating and introducing to the audience on stage.

It's actually never really died, with little interchangeable plays, new activists continuing to emerge, theatre-related courses offered at higher education institutions as well as communities still engaged in a variety of artistic and cultural activities.

But the reality is, after graduation, not everyone has the opportunity to turn that experience and interest into a full-time career, because many end up moving part-time while doing other jobs, just to make sure there's still room for that work.

For theater activists, it's not just being an actor, but also a satisfaction at the same time as participating in writing, directing, producing, event management, content creation and sometimes finding space in other artistic mediums.

This is where the authors see the real problem of Malaysian theatre, which is that we have a fairly obvious presence, but how far has it grown from an artistic environment to an industry?

When a major production is announced, attention is often focused on the names of celebrities, television actors or influencers who already have their own followers.

From a commercial standpoint, that's understandable because big names are capable of bringing in audiences who may have never seen theater before.

However, in the face of big names, let's not forget that the power of this industry is built on those who have spent years fighting on small stages without having the same commercial appeal.

Some started out happy, some struggled to become teachers, all of which became part of the ecosystem that ensured theatre kept its momentum.

Mansur & Liu at least showed that the ability to produce large-scale theatrical productions with high technique and production value was indeed in demand among local artists.

More interestingly, the Princess of Ledang will return next month, and the author himself goes through a small "battle" in the virtual world to get tickets to see a re-run of the childhood play, which eventually sold out within such a short period.

So the question is not just whether Malaysians want to see theater.

The question is how that interest can translate into a broader, more sustainable ecosystem.

Do graduates who start with university production have room to develop into professional activists?

Or does the new activist have a way to get paid experience?

And did those who have dedicated themselves to theater, worked for years on a small stage and persisted despite all the constraints, finally get their place and recognition?

Personally, if we really want to talk about the best Malaysian theatre, we need to look at more than a few classic plays.

We need to see if those who from the very beginning have had the courage to express their talents, souls and messages on stage have a way to continue to grow into part of a sustainable industry.

Mansur & Liu may not yet be an answer to the question of whether Malaysian theatre's popularity is back, but at least it opens up space for us to re-examine what local artists are actually capable of.

And perhaps the challenge we face now is no longer to prove that Malaysia can produce a great theatre, but how to ensure that those who build theatres from below also have room to continue growing them. -TVS