“an interesting perspective on an otherwise seemingly black and white story”
The Apology, directed by Ria Parry, follows the lives of three women, each involved in the attempt to uncover the truth about ‘comfort girls’ during World War Two. An estimated 200,000 girls were taken, by deception or force, from their villages in Japanese-occupied countries, and imprisoned as sex slaves throughout the war, sanctioned by the Japanese government. This isn’t a part of history I’m especially familiar with, so the story itself was fascinating and horrifying.
The pace is a bit sloppy, and I’d say it could do with a twenty-minute haircut, but given it’s based on very true events I can see how it would feel harsh not to give all the characters enough time to flesh out their stories.
As well as the historical narratives, both during the war and in the nineties when the UN began its investigations, writer Kyo Choi also includes a personal narrative about a man (Kwong Loke) who was, to his understanding, forced to recruit ‘comfort girls’, and how he continued to live with himself after the war. It’s an interesting perspective on an otherwise seemingly black and white story: this man was neither evil nor good, and it’s an important reminder that history is rarely so clean-cut.
Performances are strong across the board, and Choi has done well to include a little levity in a fairly bleak story, giving a generous emotional range to all the characters. Priyanka Silva, the UN lawyer, played by Sharan Phull, is cringingly earnest at times, but that rings fairly true for her character, and even she cracks a joke once in a while.
The only real issue I had with the performances- and I’m ready to be told I’m wrong about this- is the accents: the three modern-day Korean characters all speak with Korean accents, whereas the young girl playing the younger self of a former ‘comfort girl’, speaks in received pronunciation. It’s fine to cast accent-blind, but given that that’s not the case for any other characters, I find it quite jarring and distracting.
TK Hay’s set design is simple and elegant: Floor and walls are covered in orderly paperwork, seemingly signifying the beaurocracy and white tape involved in any official decisions or changes. But it also evokes a paper trail: evidence, waiting to be found.
Ultimately, it’s a compelling and important story, and although a little baggy, the content of The Apology carries it through when the execution itself feels a little too sentimental, or a little drawn out.
“There’s enough that’s excellent to know that she could make this genuinely spine-chilling”
Writer Nina Atesh has come upon a beautiful, terrifying idea: What if the sea simply disappeared one day, drying out like a small puddle, stranding all its aquatic societies, fish and sailor alike. It captures the imagination with both the arid aesthetic of the dried-out sea, and the practical horror of being completely stranded in the middle of nowhere with no fresh water to be found. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come to fruition.
There’s definitely a growing sense of dread throughout, but it seems misdirected: The two last crew members on board this particular ship- the captain (Andrew Callaghan) and his loyal steward, Garson (Jack Flammiger) – busy themselves with pointless naval tasks, playing out some sense of normality, until they’re interrupted by a mysterious stranger (Caleb O’Brien), claiming to be a stranded whaler, in need only of food and water. But his motives become suspect as he tries to manipulate and turn the captain and steward against one another. The reason isn’t entirely clear- he seems to desperately want the captain’s much prized jar of sea water- but the menace he poses doesn’t seem to add up to the apparent goal.
Julia Sullivan’s set is appropriately sparse, a platform serving as Captain’s desk, topped with only a ledger, a lamp, and the precious sea water. Sullivan’s costumes have a little more flare, mirroring the bizarre contrast between the bleak, lonely circumstances, and the captain’s refusal to give up his naval rituals: Garson is smartly attired in a striped blue collarless shirt, always tucked in, and similarly the captain is never without his naval jacket, scattered with what looks like glittering, gold seaweed, a sign of his eternal pledge to life at sea.
The performances are strong on the whole, though the script seems to let O’Brien down a bit; the uncertainty of his character’s purpose seeps into his performance. Callaghan is jarringly spectacular, a massive fish in a small pond (pun intended). His eyes bulge with exhaustion, and his false jocularity is maybe the scariest part of the show.
If Atesh were to rewrite this and come back to the stage with the exact same cast and crew, I would absolutely come to see it. There’s enough that’s excellent to know that she could make this genuinely spine-chilling if she were willing to kill her darlings and rework the plot.
