Tag Archives: Susan Momoko Hingley

“One Small Step” at the Charing Cross Theatre

Writer and director Takuya Kato’s think piece questions equality and equity between the sexes with rigour and style. An unexpected pregnancy causes problems for husband and wife, Takashi and Narumi, complicated by their careers as astronauts about to colonise the Moon, and raises plenty of questions for the audience to enjoy.

The sci-fi element is woven into the story very well: Takuya brings out debates about how we live now, how we might live in the future, and gives the characters plenty of motivation. The idea of moving to the Moon is underplayed – interestingly there’s as much focus on the company behind the scheme as the science. 

Unfortunately, the characters fail to convince, being too clearly mouthpieces for issues. The control in the show is remarkable. Mark Takeshi Ota barely raises his voice as his “calculating” Takashi keeps his temper throughout. Narumi is more intriguing. She’s allowed to break down and show some steel, even humour, so that Susan Momoki Hingley, who takes the role, has more to show. The commitment from both performers is admirable, and clearly required by Takuya, but such restraint does make the show slow.

The production looks great, with a minimalist design by Milla Clarke that has an impressive revolving stage and live filming to keep us engaged and help us to appreciate how detailed the performances from both actors are. Nothing distracts from the debate, though – should Narumi sacrifice her career? Or even try to have her child on the Moon? And what should her husband do?

One Small Step, part of a mini season to be followed by Tattooer, is a rare chance to see theatre from Japan in London. While Studio Ghibli and manga-inspired musicals have had success recently, this is serious stuff that’s strictly for a grown-up crowd. I’m not sure that differences between Japanese and British culture stand out (a point that might be made clearer earlier is the countries’ abortion laws) but the play’s themes are easily familiar enough to make for an interesting debate after the show.

Until 9 October 2024

www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk

Photo by Mark Senior

“The Garden of Words” at the Park Theatre

At a guess, Susan Momoko Hingley and Alexandra Rutter’s adaptation of Makoto Shinkai’s anime suffers from being too enamoured of its source. If you don’t know the original novel or film, then the story, structure and characters are confusing on stage. While bringing the genre to the theatre is an interesting project, I fear this production is for fans only.

We follow two school pupils through snatched scenes. Takao wants to design shoes and plays truant to talk to an older woman in the park when it rains. Meanwhile, Shōko has an abusive relationship with a basketball player conducted entirely over the phone. It’s intriguing, if slow, and looks at plenty of teenage troubles. But the disjointed telling means too much time is taken working out the basics.

It’s impressive that two young leads manage to make the show watchable. Shoko Ito and Hiroki Berrecloth are engaging and ably supported by James Bradwell and Susan Momoko Hingley herself, who play the latter’s brother and mother respectively. All bring out a good deal of tenderness and humour when addressing their characters’ various insecurities and problems – but issues arrive out of the blue and lack subtlety.

The twist, that the women Takao is talking to, Yukari, turns out to be a teacher, is tough to believe. And Yukari’s actions seem oddest of all – drinking in the park while she’s supposed to be at work. The chronology means problems in the school are a puzzle. Aki Nakagawa’s beatific portrayal of her makes her problems pale. The theme of intergenerational friendship is lost.

Maybe it’s better to think about the show in terms of atmosphere. Here, Rutter’s work as a director is better. There are attempts to create a poetic air that reflects the characters’ isolation. The movement is good and the music from Mark Choi is excellent. But problems persist. Cindy Lin’s set ends up fussy, with benches moved around interminably. And the show does not sit well with venue’s thrust stage – in particular, projections of poetry are too brief and too small.

The tone of the piece changes after the interval – what’s going on becomes clearer. But there are still those questions about motivation. We’re told that “all humans are weird” more than once and we can see that’s true. But it isn’t obvious where the observation leads. Such puzzles about Takao’s and Shōko’s feelings might be fine if the production was engrossing, but it all feels pruned rather than profound.

Until 9 September 2023

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photos by Piers Foley