This past weekend I was lulled into a peaceful reverie by two people dressed in rabbit suits and playing ukuleles. This moment was brought to me by the Pig Iron Theater Company’s production of Toshiki Okada’s Zero Cost House at the Davis Performing Art Center.
Founded in 1995 in Philadelphia, The Pig Iron Theater Company is known for productions that are experimental, physical, and fun. Zero Cost House more than lived up to this company’s reputation, as the rabbits in the play’s opening scene hint at the eccentricities to come in this unusual but appealing production.
One part Okada’s autobiography, one part an ode to Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, and one part panicked aftermath of Japan’s 2011 tsunami, the play is a compilation of seemingly unrelated parts; however a cast of incredible actors bring a sense of cohesiveness to Zero Cost’s unusual storyline.
The play jumps back and forth through Okada’s life, from the days of his Walden-worshipping adolescence to the playwriting success of his late 30s and subsequent disillusionment with the transcendental bible of his youth. Throughout the play, Okada, traverses time and a minimally -staged space to converse with his younger self. Okada’s role is split not only between past and present, but also amongst four different cast members.
From scene to scene a different actor slips into Okada’s decidedly uncomfortable skin to play the playwright’s anxious and indecisive self. Okada shares the stage with the ghost of Henry David Thoreau and real-life visionary Kyohei Sakaguchi, author of the book Zero Yen House for which the play is named.
Sakaguchi’s book chronicles the rise of Walden-style shanties around Tokyo in the aftermath of the tsunami that are solar-powered, ‘zero yen,’ and totally self-reliant. As Okada’s 38-year-old self struggles with a newfound condescension and naiveté in his re-reading of Walden, his sagging idealism is buoyed by Sakaguchi’s green-energy, subsistence-living enthusiasm. For all its role-switching and time-hopping, however, the play is remarkably cohesive, shot through even as it is with some pretty bizarre imagery.
The dialogue and acting in Zero Cost House are characteristic of Okada’s other plays. In the original Japanese, his characters speak in the informal and abbreviated vernacular of Japan’s younger generation. Translated into English, the dialogue retains all of its inarticulate, drawn-out, and roundabout charm. Broken speech is accompanied by disjointed body movements and his trademark use of multiple actors for the same role. Okada is also fond of his meta-moments and self-conscious scene breaks, such as when his character opens the first scene with the polite inquiry, “May I begin?”
A seasoned playwright, Okada has achieved international if not polarized acclaim. His play, Enjoy, was voted the “worst play of the year” in his native Japan, but was taken up on its titular offer on the other side of the Pacific in New York, where it got rave reviews. Despite numerous translations of his previous work, Zero Cost House was Okada’s English-language world premier.
The costumes are casual and at times bizarre, with characters wearing everything from baggy sweatshirts to full bunny suits. The play deploys equally casual and arresting staging—characters roll or walk silently across stage, seemingly at random, breaking the narrative flow and producing an aura of endearing awkwardness. The stage lights remain on for the majority of the performance, highlighting the informality and directness with which the audience is engaged.
At just under two hours long, the Pig Iron Theater Company’s Zero Cost House is a patient and poignant production. The take-away is a stirring commentary on the transformation of self and imagined alternatives to life as we know it. Oh, and the rabbits—I believe they symbolize the average person content to burrow deep into a comfortable, untroubled life. Still no read on the ukuleles.
