{"title":"Imigure Kaidan (Immigrant Ghost Stories) (review)","authors":"Beri Juraic","doi":"10.1353/atj.2024.a927720","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\n<p> <span>Reviewed by:</span> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> <em>Imigure Kaidan (Immigrant Ghost Stories)</em> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Beri Juraic </li> </ul> <em>IMIGURE KAIDAN</em> (IMMIGRANT GHOST STORIES). Directed by Kamisato Yudai. Produced by Okazaki Art Theatre. Co-produced by Naha Cultural Arts Theater NAHArt, Naha, Japan, 28–30 October 2022. <p>The award-winning playwright and director Kamisato Yudai premiered his latest work <em>Imigure Kaidan</em> (Immigrant Ghost Stories) at the end of October 2022 in a small theatre space at the recently opened Naha Cultural Arts Theater NAHArt. I had the privilege to see the premiere and observe the rehearsal process. Like many of Kamisato’s previous works, the piece features prominently themes of crossing borders and migration, multilingualism, history and geography, and life versus death. These themes are inspired both by his personal experiences traveling in South America, Asia, and Japan and by the stories and anecdotes he had heard from others. While <em>Immigrant Ghost Stories</em> might be infused by the same motifs as previous work, it is also evident that this piece re-thinks theatre and the theatre-making process from the perspective of a foreigner or immigrant by using the metaphor of ghosts and monsters (<em>yūrei and yōkai</em>) crossing borders.</p> <p>When Kamisato won the Kishida Kunio Prize for Drama in 2018 for <em>The Story of Descending the Long Slopes of Valparaíso</em>, it initiated a debate about whether the piece could be considered a theatre play. This prompted him to write a blog post entitled “Gikyoku ni tsuite kangaeru koto” (Thinking about Plays), in which he wrote: “I always write words with people speaking them in mind. What I care about is how the words are uttered, the kind of rhythm, the lingering memories the text <strong>[End Page 211]</strong> produces, and how the speaker’s body changes” (Kamisato 2018).<sup>1</sup> Kamisato’s new work exposes this approach effectively to the audience. The unusual rehearsal process for this piece contributes to its success. To illustrate, the rehearsals took place in Tokyo and Naha (Okinawa), with only Kamisato traveling back and forth to rehearse with each performer individually. The performers therefore did not meet to rehearse collectively until the final week before the premiere. The production team was also not allowed in the rehearsals, but they could watch over Zoom, in real-time or via recordings. The rehearsals consisted principally of discussions, listening, and only a minimal amount of staging until the performers came together toward the end of the process. As a result, during the performance the audience has to listen attentively to fully comprehend the visual aspects. Kamisato nevertheless facilitates this task through his text which consistently throws at us both simplistic explanations and poetic complexities.</p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution Figure 1. <p>Matsui Shu dancing to a pop tune from Thailand in <em>Immigrant Ghost Stories</em> (2022). (Photo by Oshiro Wataru)</p> <p></p> <p>On entrance, the stage is brightly lit, revealing the scenography. In the middle, a slopped dance floor raises up to the ceiling. On stage right is a makeshift cubed structure hosting a monitor. Before the show begins, the top part of this structure reads “Immigrant Ghost Stories” in English, Japanese, and Spanish. During the performance, it displays the subtitles, announces the titles of the four parts (“Ghosts of Thailand,” “Bolivia,” “Okinawa,” and “Part Four”), and exhibits various graphics <strong>[End Page 212]</strong> and imagery. Scattered around the stage are a series of wooden constructions resembling high-bar tables and stools. On stage left is a microphone positioned between two of these wooden pieces. The starry backdrop is eye-catching. A half-empty glass lies on top of one of the tables as if someone had already been in the space before us. A ghost perhaps.</p> <p>It is difficult to settle into the performance, as the action on/off stage plays with the notion of time and space nonsensically. But that is a good thing. The four actors on stage and screen take us on a whirlwind journey across time and space, history, and geography in four distinct parts: from Thailand and Laos to Bolivia and Okinawa, with a final stop in a ghostly non-place (perhaps a graduation reunion, present day Japan, or a future Japan). We learn about the history and origins of the alcoholic drinks...</p> </p>","PeriodicalId":42841,"journal":{"name":"ASIAN THEATRE JOURNAL","volume":"5 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3000,"publicationDate":"2024-05-15","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"ASIAN THEATRE JOURNAL","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.1353/atj.2024.a927720","RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"0","JCRName":"ASIAN STUDIES","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0
Abstract
In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:
Reviewed by:
Imigure Kaidan (Immigrant Ghost Stories)
Beri Juraic
IMIGURE KAIDAN (IMMIGRANT GHOST STORIES). Directed by Kamisato Yudai. Produced by Okazaki Art Theatre. Co-produced by Naha Cultural Arts Theater NAHArt, Naha, Japan, 28–30 October 2022.
The award-winning playwright and director Kamisato Yudai premiered his latest work Imigure Kaidan (Immigrant Ghost Stories) at the end of October 2022 in a small theatre space at the recently opened Naha Cultural Arts Theater NAHArt. I had the privilege to see the premiere and observe the rehearsal process. Like many of Kamisato’s previous works, the piece features prominently themes of crossing borders and migration, multilingualism, history and geography, and life versus death. These themes are inspired both by his personal experiences traveling in South America, Asia, and Japan and by the stories and anecdotes he had heard from others. While Immigrant Ghost Stories might be infused by the same motifs as previous work, it is also evident that this piece re-thinks theatre and the theatre-making process from the perspective of a foreigner or immigrant by using the metaphor of ghosts and monsters (yūrei and yōkai) crossing borders.
When Kamisato won the Kishida Kunio Prize for Drama in 2018 for The Story of Descending the Long Slopes of Valparaíso, it initiated a debate about whether the piece could be considered a theatre play. This prompted him to write a blog post entitled “Gikyoku ni tsuite kangaeru koto” (Thinking about Plays), in which he wrote: “I always write words with people speaking them in mind. What I care about is how the words are uttered, the kind of rhythm, the lingering memories the text [End Page 211] produces, and how the speaker’s body changes” (Kamisato 2018).1 Kamisato’s new work exposes this approach effectively to the audience. The unusual rehearsal process for this piece contributes to its success. To illustrate, the rehearsals took place in Tokyo and Naha (Okinawa), with only Kamisato traveling back and forth to rehearse with each performer individually. The performers therefore did not meet to rehearse collectively until the final week before the premiere. The production team was also not allowed in the rehearsals, but they could watch over Zoom, in real-time or via recordings. The rehearsals consisted principally of discussions, listening, and only a minimal amount of staging until the performers came together toward the end of the process. As a result, during the performance the audience has to listen attentively to fully comprehend the visual aspects. Kamisato nevertheless facilitates this task through his text which consistently throws at us both simplistic explanations and poetic complexities.
Click for larger view View full resolution Figure 1.
Matsui Shu dancing to a pop tune from Thailand in Immigrant Ghost Stories (2022). (Photo by Oshiro Wataru)
On entrance, the stage is brightly lit, revealing the scenography. In the middle, a slopped dance floor raises up to the ceiling. On stage right is a makeshift cubed structure hosting a monitor. Before the show begins, the top part of this structure reads “Immigrant Ghost Stories” in English, Japanese, and Spanish. During the performance, it displays the subtitles, announces the titles of the four parts (“Ghosts of Thailand,” “Bolivia,” “Okinawa,” and “Part Four”), and exhibits various graphics [End Page 212] and imagery. Scattered around the stage are a series of wooden constructions resembling high-bar tables and stools. On stage left is a microphone positioned between two of these wooden pieces. The starry backdrop is eye-catching. A half-empty glass lies on top of one of the tables as if someone had already been in the space before us. A ghost perhaps.
It is difficult to settle into the performance, as the action on/off stage plays with the notion of time and space nonsensically. But that is a good thing. The four actors on stage and screen take us on a whirlwind journey across time and space, history, and geography in four distinct parts: from Thailand and Laos to Bolivia and Okinawa, with a final stop in a ghostly non-place (perhaps a graduation reunion, present day Japan, or a future Japan). We learn about the history and origins of the alcoholic drinks...