How We Really Feel About Hall Productions
We’re all thinking it, but someone has to say it.
We’ve all been there before, casually strolling around on campus, on our way to lunch, when suddenly:
“Hello BRROOOOO, come support our [insert hall name] play!”
Your tutorial mate from three semesters ago flashes a wide grin at you and shoves a flyer in your hand. All of the sudden, you have a new “bro” whose name you cannot recall.
"EQUILIBRIUM (name has been changed to protect the identity of the production)", the flyer screams (it always has to sound pretentious, doesn’t it?), scrawled across a sea of monochrome generic faces.
“It’s only 22 dollars!”
ONLY? Why tf does it cost that much? Did it win any Oscars? Hell, I can watch La La Land (I mean, Moonlight) twice for less.
“Do you want to buy one of our brownies from A.tas? Only 7 dollars!”
That’s it, I’m out of here.
How paying for Hall productions feel like.
If you’re not ready for this, then you’re not ready for the incoming torrential pour of pleas on Whatsapp to buy a ticket. Group chats that you didn’t know you were in will pop up left right and centre. “~SSA1296 Presentation Group 3~”? “What’s that? Did I ever take that mod?”
Cue the inevitable “Who’s going? If you’re going, I’m going” and “Support me/our friend” charade.
Well, it can’t be that bad if you go with your friends, right?
So, reluctantly, you buy the ticket. Then you realise that your “friends” have “a thing” on that very day and cannot make it. And they don’t even bother with an excuse. The pangseh game is real.
Kinda like when that friend agreed to take a mod with you
but ended up only going for Lecture 1.
-
Plus, don’t forget, you’re obliged to buy flowers for your friends who are on stage! This starving university student has to spend x times $5, x being the number of friends involved in the production. Since when was having friends so pricey? And what kind of flowers does one get for a performance?
And no, you’re not allowed to bring your bunch of flowers into the performing hall. You and 200 others. Good luck finding them in the pile of generic gerberas after the show.
"The hills are alive with the sou- where’s my flower?"
-
On the bright side, here’s your rare chance to visit a world-class performing arts centre. As you convince yourself that it’s minimalist, and not just shabby, you make a mental note to add it to your burgeoning list of instagram-worthy spots on campus.
And yes, finally a toilet in campus that smells nice!
Every other toilet in NUS.
-
You cushion yourself on one of the seats in the performance hall. Or what you think is a seat. Seriously, whoever designed them has zero understanding of how a human spine works. Or perhaps it is a social commentary on how spineless university students are. Talk about meta.
How it looks like
How it actually feels like
-
Just as you start getting comfortable, the girl seated at the other end of the row stands up and approaches you. And no, she doesn’t want your number.
"Hi, sorry I actually reserved seats for my friends... They're on the way now..."
You move to the adjacent seat, but she glares at you.
“How many of your friends?”
"10."
-
The curtain rises. Someone yells ‘GO MICHAEL’, igniting a smattering of shrilled voices declaring their allegiances to their friends. “Michael”, on stage, struggles to hide his laughter. It’s gonna be a long two hours. Yep, two hours.
-
Ms. Seat-Choper’s posse saunters in 10 minutes into the play with the stealthiness of the A1 bus coasting through the slopes of NUS during the peak hours. And of course, the tallest guy in the world just has to sit right in front of you. Just as well, he can block the light from your phone when you swipe through Tinder periodically.
-
The scene changes. You take out your iPhone and instinctively press the unlock button to check the time. The screen lights up, blinding yourself and the people around you. Has it really only been 20 minutes? And you have no idea what the plot is about. Why is that girl sprawling on the floor and spasming?
-
You let out an audible yawn. People around you shoot a look of disapproval, including Ms. Seat-Choper.
-
Oh gawd, the need to pee has never been so strong.
-
Fuck yes, intermission! After jostling for space in the toilet and overhearing some dudes at the urinal talk about which parts made them “laugh like siao sia” , you head back to the hall and realise that the returning audience has thinned. Even Trump’s inauguration had more people.
-
Nothing like the smell of grease-laden burgers wafting through the air indicating that someone has smuggled McDonalds’ in.
-
You wonder if there are any Pokémon to catch in the UCC.
-
Well hello, this girl/guy on stage looks cute. You consider getting your friend to wing. Speaking of her, she hasn’t appeared on stage yet. Or has she?
-
There she is, oh wait, she’s gone now? What’s her role in this production again?
-
The programme booklet lists her as “Passer-by C”.
-
You wake up to a round of rapturous applause. You must have been asleep for more than 30 mins. You wipe your patch of drool on your shoulder and join in. At least it’s over.
-
But you can’t leave just yet. Time to wait around for you friend to reappear so you two can take the obligatory photo that serves as a testimonial to your unwavering friendship. After she finishes an hour-long debrief.
-
Your friend re-emerges with a weird amalgamation of fbts, slippers and her costume.
“Hey you were awesome! Can go Mediacorp already.”
Technically, anyone can.
What’s ‘dab’ backwards again?
-
You go home.
You may not be the smartest or the most good-looking. But at least you’re now a slightly more learned person of culture .
The ordeal repeats for the next iteration of productions.
(Help.)
Disclaimer:
Since this is 2017 and people get offended at everything, The Bullet editorial team would like to state that all of these are just tongue-in-cheek opinions.
Support your friends in their endeavours on stage! Or not. It’s not like you’ll heed our advice anyway.
