Tuesday, January 09, 2007

An Evening At Covent Garden

Is it a simple children’s story of friendship and loyalty? Or are there more subversive undertones, with references to class warfare and rebellion? Whatever the case, Kenneth Grahame’s timeless tale, The Wind in the Willows, has charmed readers ever since it was published nearly a century ago during the Edwardian era. We may not all know the storyline well. But many of us would have doubtlessly heard of the adventures of Mole, Ratty, Toad and Badger.

It’s a story that has been adapted many times since, whether in print, on stage, or even on the big screen. Courtesy of the Singapore Lawyer, who managed to snag a few well-placed student tickets, we found ourselves this evening at the Royal Opera House’s Linsbury Theatre for an entertaining ballet production of The Wind in the Willows.

It was a very sweet and uplifting performance before a capacity crowd. We laughed along with everyone, eager to see how Toad could regain his manor home, Toad Hall, which he lost after getting into trouble with the law. We identified with Mole and Ratty’s earnest sincerity in wanting to help their friend. And we were gripped by the final fight between them and the bunch of mean weasels who had occupied Toad Hall.

The orchestral score brilliantly integrated composer George Butterworth’s charming pastoral work, Banks of Green Willow. I can think only of a few other pieces that are so exquisitely English in sound. And when we see Mole and Ratty enjoying themselves by the river early on, accompanied by Butterworth’s sweet, idyllic melody, a contented image of leisurely bliss and calm is readily conjured up.

After the ballet, we wandered off to Chinatown for dinner, stepping into the 1997 restaurant on Wardour Street. She had the char siew rice, and I the Hainanese Chicken rice. There were portraits of Marx, Lenin, Engels and Sun Yat Sen on the walls, along with assorted other Chinese political figures. But apart from these bizarre icons and the jackets we wore, we were in very familiar territory. It was the food, the setting and decor, and the language. It needed little imagination. We could have been back home.

Is this another aspect of the Singapore condition? To move effortlessly from enjoying a thoroughly English stage production, to indulging in a wholly Asian eating experience? And to feel eminently comfortable in both?

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