[Theater Review] Yumi Hirota + Daigaku Futakuchi "A Lullaby You Must Not Sleep To" (2025.10.18, Sai no Kuni)
I watched Yumi Hirota + Daigaku Futakuchi's "A Lullaby You Must Not Sleep To" at "Sai no Kuni," a theater and guesthouse in Ueda City, Nagano Prefecture. I was aware that Hirota and Futakuchi perform a Minoru Betsuyaku play at Sai no Kuni every autumn. However, as movie theaters are always busy in the fall, I kept missing their performances.
So, this was my first time seeing Hirota + Futakuchi x Minoru Betsuyaku. To conclude, it was "very interesting, and I saw something good. A fulfilling 60 minutes." While listening to the after-talk, I had various thoughts, so I decided to write them down. Regardless of whether it takes a proper form, I will consider this a theater review.
—I just want to talk... I sit here, you sit there, you say something, I say something, and then, if it's funny, we laugh, or something like that...
I've forgotten many things.
I've even forgotten that I've forgotten.
A woman who is a "conversation partner" visits the room of a man who has nothing.
Laughter often arose from the mismatched exchanges between the man and the woman, or from the man's words. But I couldn't laugh. I wasn't able to laugh.
The man who says he "wants to talk" asks strange questions, as if verifying the woman's words one by one. Each time, the woman is bewildered, irritated, and her emotions are stirred. But the man's demeanor felt like someone reaching out to the world, or perhaps someone trying to confirm the contours of the world.
I remember that feeling. I want to know this world. And I want to know myself. By confronting the world, I know myself. From the many words the man used to try to reach out to the world, his desire to know his "world/self" was painfully conveyed. That is why I could not laugh.
The "world" here refers to the "other."
We know ourselves through the world that is the other. The man tried to know himself by touching the world that was the woman. The woman was shaken by touching the world that was the man.
In the middle of the story, the woman's poignant voice rang out, saying, "I am acting of my own will." She mentions having had a husband. She puts two sugars in her milk tea. When the man asks, "Why two?", she projects her husband onto him. Whether asked if it's "too much" or "too little," her husband would answer, "No." I think both the husband and the man just wanted to know the reason for the two sugars. They just wanted to know why "she" chose two. But the woman wanted to know the appropriate amount of sugar for her "husband/the man." Mismatched conversations and perspectives.
From the beginning to the middle, the woman maintained her self/I, resisting the world to keep it. From the woman's perspective, the man was a chaotic world/other. However, in the end, the man found his self/I. In contrast, the woman went from being an I to becoming a world. Surely, she will now become a world/other for her husband.
The man who was a "world" became an "I."
The woman who was an "I" became a "world."
I am the world, and the world is me.
It is only because there is an other called the world that I exist. We live in connection with others. We are kept alive. From the perspective of others, I am also a world.
Even if our words and perspectives do not align, we know ourselves through the interaction of talking. Like a conversation between a Czechoslovakian and an Ethiopian, even if we don't understand, we understand that we don't understand.
In the after-talk, or in newspaper articles and the impressions of those who saw yesterday's performance, the keyword "loneliness" was used. I didn't understand the loneliness in this work. Perhaps that is because I am not lonely myself, or perhaps I cannot recognize loneliness as loneliness. It is natural not to be able to understand others, and perhaps I just haven't named the emotions that arise from that as "loneliness." A digression.
I take my hat off to Yumi Hirota's delicate acting ability, which made it seem as if the water in the glass was about to overflow but didn't, all while her emotions were being stirred by the man's words. The man played by Daigaku Futakuchi is a difficult role that could easily be labeled as someone with a disability or dementia, but he didn't let it be labeled; he was just a man who made you feel he had walked his own life.
Finally, I thought the lighting in this play was wonderful. The small lights that shone in the houses lined up on the table. They were small, but they were warm and poignant lights.
