Rizman Putra's 5.1 under Cake Theatrical Productions' Decimal Points series. Photo courtesy of Cake. In Singapore’s rather segmented arts scene, very few cross over with ease, fluency and frequency. Rizman Putra’s one of them—a visual/performance artist, band frontman and theatre performer. But it’s not as if he switches hats. In fact, you could say he’s constantly wearing the same one, which makes his multiple performance forays all the more fascinating. He does, however, put on a new one—director—in 5.1, Cake Theatrical Productions’ fourth Decimal Points production (before creators Brian Gothong Tan, David Lee, Philip Tan and Rizman get together for one big collab next year). And here he goes all out with extreme physical theatre and an explosion of light and sounds so in-your-face that even if he left the (physically draining) performance to five other peeps (Fared Jainal, Sharda Harrison, Syaiful Ariffin, Patricia Toh and Yazid Jalil), 5.1 had Rizman Putra written all over it. The title primarily alludes to the surround audio system used in cinemas—and as an experience, it fits. We are cocooned in this space filled with the pervasive, relentless electronic soundscapes performed live by Zulkifle Mahmod (who’s also onstage) even as we are bombarded by images, scenarios and characters straight out of Rizman’s wild imagination. But perhaps cinema isn’t the peg as much as television. While he did belong to that collective called Kill Your Television, he resurrects the boobtube experience here. Sitting through the earlier part is akin to channel surfing or watching a music video, with its brisk, haphazard, fragmentary, and almost ADD shifts in scenes and tones. What seems to holds all of these together its its energy. The set itself—a constructed skateboard ramp that reminded me of his performance at Cake’s 5th anniversary celebrations some years back—hints at constant movement. And so 5.1 hurtles forward—the performers emerge waving around flashlights like Jedi knights to dubstep; they come as Olympic athletes, hilariously miming games in the most deadpan way while simultaneously channeling Monty Python’s lovable twits; a spaceship prop (brought out by the show’s own versions of Marvin The Martian) transforms into a mic into which an OTT hip-hop homie’s beatbox beats are looped as a parade of outrageous characters enter, occasionally breaking into cheesy dance. It’s the same kind of sensory overload that music videos get away with and something that Rizman does equally well. I do have to say that bringing up television or music videos as a basis of comparison sounds rather dated considering we’re in the era of social media that trumpets interaction rather than passive telly consumption, but 5.1 exists in a fantastical, almost retro-ish bubble: its dark, futuristic feel also reminds me of Bladerunner—or more obviously, in its costumes and glow-in-the-dark lines, Tron. But while the medium is the message of the first half, 5.1 reverts to the more conventional means of actually imparting one in the darker second half. The title also alludes to Singapore’s growing population and Rizman gets more political, with scenes entering moralising territory that was only hinted at in the earlier parts (a dictator figure with two rabid dogs ravaging Lady Justice, for example). It wasn’t something that I was particularly keen on—in drawing out the scenes, the hyperactive momentum that the first part’s barrage of stuff had, the energy that made it compelling and fun, fizzles out. But was it enough to dampen the show? Not for me. 5.1's got enough technicolour bombast to keep me from switching channels. (Not sure if there are still tickets to tomorrow's show as tonight's was packed but you can check out details here.)