Wobbly performances in this dialogue-heavy chamber play about PTSD and survivor’s guilt.

In war, one often focuses attention on the aggressors, and the ultimate winner or loser. Yet the ones that suffer most are the innocents, the collateral damage of a battle no one really wants, and are left forgotten or reduced to mere statistics, instead of realising the very real tragedy and loss experienced by each individual. In the 1994 play The Face of Jizo, Japanese playwright Hisashi Inoue aims to shed light and explore the resulting experience in such survivors, by examining the PTSD of a father and daughter in the aftermath of the atomic bomb in Hiroshima.

Presented by We Colour People and Theatre Boleh, director Adli ‘Alin’ Mosbit leads the two person cast of Koji Miyoshi and Joanne Ng in the Singapore premiere of this play in English, as translated by Roger Pulvers. Set in 1948, The Face of Jizo centres on 23-year old Mitsue (Joanne Ng), who leads a quiet existence in East Hijiyama as a librarian living with her father (Koji Miyoshi), cooking for each other and whiling the days away with conversation. But all this comes in the wake of the tragedy three years ago, when an atomic bomb was unexpectedly dropped on their hometown in Hiroshima.

Now, in spite of the peaceful facade, both father and daughter continue to grapple with both the trauma and their own survivor’s guilt. Staged at the Stamford Arts Centre Black Box, the team have crafted a rather cosy-looking set, lined with what appear to be tatami mats in the living room on a raised stage, and even a dedicated space for the ‘kitchen’, where either character spends time chopping vegetables. We get the impression that their lives are simple, peaceful and almost entirely couched in domestic bliss, and almost sheltered or isolated from the city. At the same time, due to the space, it feels like we too are somewhat removed from the action in front of us, with even the closest row just a little too far for the play’s emotions to reach.

The Face of Jizo is a dialogue-heavy work that comes to reveal how underneath the semblance of calm, lies an ocean of pain, as Mitsue expresses a crippling fear of getting close to others, lest they too leave her in a tragedy, or somehow the fault comes back to her, the way she blames herself for the death of the people she grew up with. She holds a fear of loud noises, even something as seemingly ordinary as the sound of thunder, leaving her cowering and whimpering. On the other hand, her father tries his best to suppress his own trauma, always encouraging and getting Mitsue to come out of her shell.

Inoue’s script in translation is meandering, with a tendency to take its time with every scene, slow and pensive. The cycles of dialogue are repetitive, where Mitsue almost always recalls a villager she grew up with, and haunted by the realisation of all she’s lost. In a way, it feels almost like an absurd play, with both Mitsue and her father trapped in this inescapable hellscape forged in their minds, unable to move on. There are times one even begins to wonder if this is reality, or both of them are really stuck in a form of psychological limbo.

While the idea itself is rather endearing, the execution of the play is held back by both actors’ performance. There is a nice contrast between Joanne and Koji’s overall energies onstage, where you can clearly see a distinct difference in their reactions to trauma, but Koji in particular is much more uncontrolled, where his character is far less focused, and his tone irregular throughout the performance. Both actors also have completely different accents, which can be jarring to hear onstage, and affects the delivery of the more subtle humour the script holds, while the chemistry between both actors is shaky – often they feel more like friends than father and daughter.

It’s rare to see Japanese theatre in Singapore in general, but with how difficult this particular script is, and especially with how slow the build-up can be, it’s a play that requires full concentration to fully appreciate, and a cast that can lull one into the quietly disturbing post-war world. This production of The Face of Jizo ends up dragging, and struggles to find the tone it wants to convey – even if it eventually does reach its more climactic conflict, helped by almost hellish red lighting shining down on the actors, all this comes too late, and one instead ends up detached and unmoved by their plight as one would like, understanding but not feeling the pain both characters are suffering.

Photo Credit: Theatre Boleh

The Face of Jizo ran from 23rd to 25th February 2024 at the Stamford Arts Centre Black Box.

We Colour People will also begin a residency with Centre 42. More information available here