The Perfection Of Ten. Photo courtesy of Delvin Lee. The Perfection Of Ten is only the third production of Sean Tobin’s that I’ve seen. I’ve been trying to grasp his aesthetic since last year's What Did You Learn Today? and, to a lesser extent, this year’s Tongues. With this latest work, I’d like to think I can see more clearly where he’s coming from—and I love the weirdness, the playfulness, the self-reflexivity, and the overall magnanimity of his vision. It’s a rather complicated love letter to theatre this piece. He asks 10 playwrights to write something for him (Jason Wee, Zizi Azah, Jean Tay, Verena Tay, Desmond Sim, Kaylene Tan, Li Xie, Ng Yi-Sheng, Ng How Wee, Irfan Kasban). He gets 10 theatre companies (all the usual suspects) to donate 10 props they’ve used in previous plays staged at the Esplanade. Everything is then combined into this one performance that talks about perfection. Or rather, the impossibility of attaining it. And the first thing he does is strip theatre of its various pretenses. It’s interesting that Tobin begins by personally introducing the piece (like he did in Tongues) and talking about the idea of how the whole theatrical experience is one of constant manipulation (ushers telling you where to sit, the sound and light design prodding your experience this way and that, etc). It’s underscored by the final image we see in the play—a puppet. And yet, by informing us of this—and by continuously subverting conventions throughout in the most hilarious ways possible—the piece oozes with freedom. There is a sense of one’s mind simply walking into and wandering about this thing called The Perfection Of Ten. It’s essentially a mash-up of a series of sketches that, in subtle ways, riff on perfect somethings—whether it’s family, father, job, actress, artwork, theatre review, play or death. Among others, we’ve got a weird multilingual, multicultural family comprising a hardworking housewife, her silat-enthusiast husband, an anorexic daughter; an Esplanade cleaner who reminisces about his days as a performing artist—with his only audience, a statue. There’s a wheelchair-bound woman who’s trying to convince her son to assist in her suicide. You’ve got an abstract-type moment of people arranging chairs and a recurring video about the ghosts spooking out folks at The Esplanade. In all these, the order of things almost always descends into chaos or is deconstructed—most of the time in the absurdist ways possible. Tobin—who’s sitting there at a table by the wings like some kind of Drew Carey in Whose Line Is It Anyway—gets into a fight with a performer who thinks thinks she’s being used sparingly. The post-show dialogue  is done midway. A play is written during the show and later performed (after suggestions from the audience, Irfan proceeds to type away at front row and prints it out.). Surtitles are momentarily switched off, some feedback form-type questions are flashed (“Do you understand what they’re doing?” we’re cheekily asked during the chair assembling moment.). Sounds pretty much like a mess doesn’t it? But it isn’t because it’s fun and we’re in on the fun—something emphasised by set designer Wong Chee Wai and lighting designer Adrian Tan’s set: a circle formed by lamppost-like lights that extends into the audience. And goddamnit, the four performers were just as generous and effusive as their director. Ang Hui Bin, Tan Shou Chen, Rizman Putra and Patricia Mok (yes, that would be Pat Mok) are an ensemble but they all get their spotlight moments—and don’t let the audience down. Ang reveals a competence in comedy and drama that’s a revelation to me (since I only know for her puppetry work with The Finger Players), Tan’s rant against post-show feedback forms and online reviews was hilarious, Rizman’s senget humour was just impeccable, and Mok was Pat Mok and more. Her monologue (written by/with Kaylene Tan?) about her frustrations with her TV career was as equally engrossing as her ha-ha bits. Pat Mok, I’m rolling out the red carpet. Welcome (back?) to Singapore theatre. True, there’s no such thing as perfection. But I really doubt that’s a yardstick that Tobin even whips out when it comes to making theatre. Instead, he uses a more potent one—that of honesty. Too bad we don't have a rating system, but if we did, well, the team gets a 10 from this RAT. (The Perfection Of Ten runs until Saturday as part of The Esplanade’s The Studios season. Details here.)