This solo performance by Japanese performer/choreographer, Chisato Minamimura (who is herself deaf) is a description of the dropping of the A-Bomb on Hiroshima in 1945, as experienced by citizens who were without hearing.
It re-tells the political and strategic circumstances of the decision to destroy the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and charts the continuing implications for the survivors of a nuclear inferno.
Presented in the Space Theatre, the set consists of a black box surrounding (and highlighting) a transparent screen behind which Minamimura performs.
Dressed in a voluminous white smock and dark slacks (and splendidly lit by Jon Armstrong) she silently “narrates,” with gesture and movement, the various elements of the exposition. There are multiple sources of explanation. There is a spoken commentary for the hearing abled, augmented by surtitles, and strikingly inventive visual projections from animator Dave Packer.
To give the audience some inkling of how deaf people experience sound, those in the front three rows have the option of wearing a Woojer Belt.
Devised by David Bobier and Jim Ruxton, who describe themselves as Vibrotactile Specialists, the belts pick up transmitted signals that interpret sound as vibration and sensory agitation. Sonic artist Danny Bright has constructed a mostly subliminal deep drone along with intermittent scratchy, static effects which are both disconcerting and ominous, especially during the re-enactment of the Hiroshima A-Bomb countdown.
In providing factual detail on talks between Roosevelt and Churchill, the Manhattan Project (familiar to Oppenheimer movie-goers) and Harry Truman’s decision to proceed with the attack, the production reminds us of the chain of key events. It also refers to the extensive protests by eminent scientists, published in The Franck Report, denouncing the use of nuclear weapons and seeking other options.
Perhaps the most vivid and compelling elements of the production are the first-hand testimonies of the deaf survivors. Projected on the screen like holograms, they speak to us directly. Katsumi, in later life, describes his day of silent terror. He was fifteen at the time and flung against a wall as whole buildings collapsed beside him.
His escape is miraculous but also a waking nightmare. Like another witness (she was 12) he describes not only the sight and smell of the dead, but also the inability to communicate with others to comprehend the event. These accounts are graphically supported with photo montages of the destruction and grim images of raining black ash.
Chisato Minamimura presides over these disparate elements almost like a conductor bringing together sounds and actions both audible and unheard. Her project is an unflinching, but highly accessible, account of a catastrophe and the extraordinary resilience of survivors – despite a lack of support and understanding of their predicament long after the event.
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Scored in Silence is an eloquent warning about the stark choice between survival and mass destruction. In the light of current world events. it is a timely reminder that such questions are as present now as in 1945.
Scored in Silence is being presented at the Space Theatre until October 26 as part of the 2024 OzAsia Festival.
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