Tag Archives: Rajiv Pattani

The Garden of Words

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Park Theatre

THE GARDEN OF WORDS at the Park Theatre

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The Garden of Words

“There are fine moments of humour amidst the stylisation in director Alexandra Rutter’s production”

 

It is a brave undertaking to lure London audiences into the theatre this summer with the promise of a show that features an awful lot of rain. It is also a brave undertaking to adapt a Makoto Shinkai film. Shinkai – animator, filmmaker, author and graphic artist – is responsible for some of the highest-grossing Japanese films of all time with his idiosyncratic and recognisable animations. But both are challenges that β€˜Whole Hog Theatre’, specialists in Anglo-Japanese theatre, are not shying away from with the premier of β€œThe Garden of Words”.

It focuses on Takao Akizuki (Hiroki Berrecloth), an aspiring teenage shoemaker and Yukari Yukino (Aki Nakagawa), a mysterious older woman he keeps meeting in the public gardens of Shinjuku City. It is the rainy season, beautifully evoked by the video projections, lighting, sound and stylised movement of the actors. There are echoes of Jacques Demy (it could almost be dubbed β€˜The Umbrellas of Tokyo’), and traces of David Lean’s β€˜Brief Encounter’ when the couple meet – courtesy of Mark Choi’s soaring piano soundtrack. But the overall sensation is of being drawn into a Japanese β€˜anime’ art film. The merging of styles creates a profoundly hypnotic atmosphere, but one that clouds the emotional connection we would have liked to have had with these characters.

It is a simple, soft love story that subtly touches on the taboo. Takao is still a teenager while Yukari is a teacher from his school. Although their meetings are accidental and innocent. At least initially. They only meet when it rains. A literal and metaphoric ingredient for the blossoming of their friendship. They are both isolated in their own way. Back home, Takao’s divorced mother (a bubbling and eccentric Susan Momoko Hingley) is more concerned with her love life than her family, while his brother (James Bradwell) is fleeing the nest in pursuit of actress girlfriend Rika (Iniki Mariano). Like Takao, Yukari is also skipping school, having been hounded by false accusations from her students, the prime culprit being Shoko (a very watchable Shoko Aizawa). Trying to appease all parties is gym teacher Soichiro (Mark Takeshi Ota).

There are fine moments of humour amidst the stylisation in director Alexandra Rutter’s production (who co-adapted with Susan Momoko Hingley). But also, some superfluous moments of repeated movement that, although eye-catching, could be pruned. In the first act it occasionally loses its balance, like riding a bicycle too slowly. In contrast, the second act rushes to its epilogue as if an afterthought, and the interval was an unscheduled mistake. The enchantment would have kept its flavour better if concentrated in a one act performance. Otherwise, the essence of the anime art form remains as true as it can be. It recognises its limitations, and doesn’t try to overstep the small-scale setting with its vivid, slightly surreal and delicate combination of creative expertise.

KENNY’s video graphic projections work hand in hand with Cindy Lin’s set. The Japanese Garden almost origami like, comprising fringes of paper that depict both the city’s skyline and the weeping leaves of the trees. In turn they become the rain, then the tears of these lost souls who β€œfeel they may die from the agony of love”: one of many quotations projected overhead. Passages from β€˜The Man’yōshū’, a compilation of Classical Japanese poetry from the eighth century, are a recurring motif that informs the narrative, and assists the audience. Like the rain.

In fact, the rain is quite relentless. A leitmotif that adopts many shades and meanings. In the world that these characters inhabit, rain is something that people who suffer from social isolation can prefer more than the sun. β€œThe Garden of Words” exposes the fragility of emotions born of loneliness and longing, yet just falls short of gripping the heart. The other senses are left basking in the downpour though. It is a treat to watch, even if we don’t quite connect. It is an apt synchronicity that while the characters onstage are β€˜praying for the rain’, we most certainly aren’t. Especially this summer.

 


THE GARDEN OF WORDS at the Park Theatre

Reviewed on 15th August 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Piers Foley


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Bones | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2023
Paper Cut | β˜…β˜…Β½ | June 2023
Leaves of Glass | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2023
Winner’s Curse | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023
The Beach House | β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023
The Elephant Song | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
Rumpelstiltskin | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2022
Wickies | β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2022
Pickle | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2022
A Single Man | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2022

The Garden of Words

The Garden of Words

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Smoke

Smoke

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Southwark Playhouse Borough

SMOKE at Southwark Playhouse Borough

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Smoke

“The physical reality of the production doesn’t match the stinging quality of the words.”

 

The publicity copy, and writer Kim Davies’ programme notes, make much of β€œSmoke” being an adaptation of August Strindberg’s β€˜Miss Julie’. There are similarities. The characters’ names – and, more tenuously, their background. Julie (Meaghan Martin) is the daughter of a successful artist, never seen but the constant references to him serve as a reminder of his power. And there’s John (Oli Higginson); a dogsbody at the artist’s beck and call with an obsequious ambition to achieve the latter’s recognition. We are in a kitchen too, albeit a symbolic one.

Yet β€œSmoke” impresses as a stand-alone piece in its own right. The shackles that bind it to Strindberg’s original both detract and confuse. The setting and the themes of Davies’ writing – writing which is undeniably sharp – are smudged by expectation and the inevitable but thwarted search for comparison.

Sami Fendall’s design suggests the kitchen with an upturned fridge in a pit of black sand. Polina Kalinina and JΓΊlia Levai’s staging makes much use of the sand, stretching its symbolism to breaking point. It is continually being sifted through the hands. It is the eponymous smoke, it is cigarette ash, it is the blunt edge of a knife that will never cut as deep as words. It is foreplay, and afterplay. It becomes limited by its own variations, and therefore a clichΓ©. But back to the kitchen, which is where we find Julie and John. Always in the kitchen at parties, this party being a BDSM party in New York City. John is introducing Julie to the world of bondage, dominance, submission and sadomasochism. It evolves into a game that is not just cutthroat but involves other parts of the anatomy. Verbally graphic, it delves into the subjects of sexual identity, consent and assault.

The performances are as strong as they get. Higginson has a steely charisma that allows him to give his character the credibility it needs, overcoming his status with confidant dominance. Martin’s Julie is no less fierce – her submissiveness snapping intermittently to outrage. Rajiv Pattani’s staccato lighting cleverly shifts the changes of perspective at crucial moments. The play sets out to challenge the notions of consent and, in the wake of #metoo, is pertinent. Some brave choices have been made but a paradoxical backlash of the changing times that are being celebrated is that the danger is presented in too safe an environment. An intimacy director is credited in the programme but, either because their job was done too well or because they were not really needed, there is little onstage chemistry – dangerous or otherwise – between the two. The physical reality of the production doesn’t match the stinging quality of the words.

Perhaps it is a deliberate avoidance to take sides, but we are never quite sure what the piece is trying to say. Julie’s question β€œDo you want to fuck me?” goes some way towards epitomising the predicament. She is offended if the answer is β€˜yes’ and offended if it is β€˜no’. John is damned whatever his answer. As the play progresses the dilemmas darken considerably, yet the confusion remains. Perhaps there are no answers. Perhaps there is still much to be learnt. The BDSM setting seems to be a convenient backdrop to Davies’ drama, just as Strindberg is a starting point. But both seem superfluous. β€œSmoke” tackles important issues without breaking any real ground, allowing a certain pretentiousness to get in the way. Despite the heated and powerful performances, it shows that sometimes there is smoke without fire.

 

 

Reviewed on 3rd February 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Lucy Hayes

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

The Woods | β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2022
Anyone Can Whistle | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2022
I Know I Know I Know | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2022
The Lion | β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2022
Evelyn | β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2022
Tasting Notes | β˜…β˜… | July 2022
Doctor Faustus | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2022
The Prince | β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2022
Who’s Holiday! | β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2022
Hamlet | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023

 

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