Playwright fascinated by recluse life
Playwright fascinated by those who withdraw from outside world, often via virtual reality
In his two previous solo shows, Tetsuro Shigematsu mined his own background for material. But for his latest play, he dives into a different inner world: virtual reality.
In Kuroko, a co-production between the Cultch and Vancouver Asian Canadian Theatre, Maya (Kanon Hewitt) is a young woman who has secluded herself in her room for the better part of six years. But when a mysterious stranger challenges her to help save her dying father, she is forced to come to terms with the outside world.
Shigematsu was inspired to write the play while recovering from laser eye surgery.
“I knew that I would be in a dark room for several days, so I loaded up my iPhone with hours of audiobooks,” he said.
“Something about the experience of being in a dark room with blackout curtains, with no light at all for a long time, and becoming lost in these alternate universes gave me this experience of not moving very much and having my body atrophy and my imagination venture forth into these different worlds. I thought this experience might be a glimpse of the future.”
Rather than delve too deeply into the latest developments in virtual reality tech, which would have dated the play (“It would be the equivalent of doing a show about MySpace,” he said), he was more fascinated by the phenomenon of hikikomori: people, like Maya, who opt out of society and retreat into their rooms.
Shigematsu says that there is an estimated three million hikikomori in Japan (mostly men).
“The reason it’s so closely associated with Japan is that there’s something about Japanese familial culture that’s very enabling,” he said. “Rather than taking a toughlove
approach, parents will just keep putting trays of food outside their door, allowing them to live this artificial existence.
“As the first generation of hikikomori age, the question becomes ‘what will happen to their parents, who are unable to retire? And what will happen to them when their parents die, and they are unable to support themselves? Will we find hikikomori mummified in their bedrooms?’”
Rather than trying to recreate the VR experience through hightech tricks onstage, Shigematsu, director Amiel Gladstone (Onegin) and their team — including set designer Sophie Tang, projection designer Remy Siu, lighting designer Gerald King, and sound designer Sammie Hatch — are kicking it back old school.
“How does one portray virtual reality in a theatrical sense?” Shigematsu said.
“We realized that even if you’re watching what someone is doing in virtual reality on a screen, it’s still a solitary experience to behold. So we decided to go completely analog, using theatrical conventions of gestures and no masks or goggles at all, and letting audience members use their imagination.”
Shigematsu’s previous works include Empire of the Son (2015), about the former CBC Radio host’s relationship with his father, and 1-Hour Photo (2017), about a family friend.
In both, he was the lone performer, but he’s not in Kuroko at all; instead, five actors, including Hewitt, Lou Ticzon, Manami Hara, Donna Soares, and John Ng (Kim’s
Convenience) do the onstage work. He says “it’s a big relief” to not be in the new production.
“I didn’t realize how hard I was working before. With 1-Hour Photo we were rewriting and I was re-memorizing up until the very last minute leading up to the first preview. Doing Kuroko is certainly a welcome respite from that kind of pressure. That being said, I do very much enjoy being in the room all the time, but certainly focusing on writing an ensemble piece rather than a solo work has been a really interesting challenge.
“I’ve learned a tremendous amount.”