The interview was conducted through the good offices of CUBE. Inc.
Keralino Sandorovich (aka Kera) – is a multifaceted figure in the Japanese entertainment industry, known for his unique and eclectic contributions to theater, film, and music. His career is marked by a postmodern approach that seamlessly blends absurdism with deep emotional resonance, making him a distinctive voice in contemporary Japanese arts. Kera began his artistic journey in Tokyo, where he initially delved into the world of music. He was a member of the punk band Uchoten in the 1980s, which laid the foundation for his creative endeavors (from those times originates also his stage name). His transition from music to theater and film was marked by a continuous drive to push boundaries and explore unconventional narratives. In 1992 his theatre company Kenko disbanded to be superseded by Nylon 100℃ established a year later, which became a significant platform for his experimental plays. His productions, such as ‘Frozen Beach’ (Kishida Drama Award), ‘Good Morning with Colorful Merry’ often feature a blend of surreal humor, intricate storytelling, and a keen observation of human nature. His works showcase the unique ability to create immersive, thought-provoking experiences that challenge audiences’ perceptions. In 2020, together with his partner Tamaki Ogawa, he founded KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory in 2020, directing three plays consecutively: ‘The Goddess of Basil Town‘ (2020), ‘The Woman in the Dunes‘ (2022), ‘I’m So Sleepy‘ (2023).
Tamaki Ogawa – partner of Keralino Sandorovich, actress known widely from such works as ‘A Quiet Life‘, ‘Samurai Fiction‘ or ‘Yellow Elephant‘, is a notable figure in her own league, particularly within the Japanese enNitertainment industry: theatre, film and TV drama. She became associated with the collaboration with Kera not only allowed her to shine as an actress but also contribute creatively to his artistic vision. Her roles in plays often showcase her ability to blend humor and depth, allowing her to connect emotionally with the audiences. Her insights, critiques, and support would have been invaluable to Keralino’s direction process. The synergy between the two would have enriched the creative process, making her an integral part of their shared artistic legacy which ultimately led to the establishment of KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory in 2020.
Could you share the origin of your stage name?
Tamaki Ogawa: The origins trace back to Yumeji Takehisa a painter known for his idiosyncratic drawings of beautiful women, which embody a unique aesthetic. His figures are characterized by large heads, elongated limbs and prominent eyes—a style known in Japan as Yumeji-shiki-bijinga. However, in my childhood, when I compared myself with my female classmates, they were quite the opposite—more exuberant with small, beady eyes and hands. I, on the other hand, was tall and stood out in the crowd, which didn’t give me much confidence. Thus, I found myself identifying more with Yumeji’s heroines, as I eagerly studied his paintings, graphic designs and poetry over the years, which encouraged me to discover another point of view on visuals and aesthetics. In the end, I became captivated by his female model, Tamaki, who became his first wife. What was striking about her was her inner strength—something beautiful yet androgynous at the same time. Her remarkable presence inspired the choice of my stage name.
What struck me was how KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory’s plays reflect your early film career—a strong-willed, voluptuous character who moves fluidly between the real and the imaginative, as if you were the incarnation of Gordon Craig’s Marionette; a character one might also find in the pages of novels by the Aesthetic School writers.
Ogawa: To be perfectly honest, what truly defines me are the things I genuinely admire and can relate to; only then does it sink in naturally. On the other hand, when I am obliged to work on a piece outside my sphere of interest, I need to shift my value system and struggle to stimulate my curiosity in a new direction. Japanese aestheticism, with all its motifs revolving around life and death, has become my hallmark as an actress. I watched Konpira Grand Theatre’s kabuki play based on the tale of Yaoya Oshichi. Yaoya Oshichi (literally ‘greengrocer Oshichi’) lived in the Hongō neighborhood of Edo at the beginning of the Edo period. She was burned at the stake for attempting to commit arson. A kabuki play about her uses the technique called ningyo buri, where the real actor moves around as if a bunraku puppet and the surrounding corporeal actors pull his strings. That scene inspired me a lot and I think that puppets, which possess an enchanted quality granted by humans, and corporeal actors who imitate puppets operate on different wavelengths.
Simultaneously with your prolific theatre career, you have acted in numerous films ranging from independent productions, such as ‘Pu’ (dir. Mikio Yamazaki, 1995), ‘Henrikku, The Step-Brother of Terayama Shuji’ (dir. Atsushi Ishikawa, 2009), up to famous ‘A Quiet Life’ (dir. Juzo Itami, 1995), ‘Samurai Fiction’ (dir. Hiroyuki Nakano, 1998) or ‘Yellow Elephant’ (dir. Ryuichi Hiroki, 2013).
Ogawa: The connection with The Terayama World was initiated through the adaptation of Shuji Terayama’s ‘China Doll’ (also known as ‘Fruits of Passion’) by the Ereman Dance Company, in which I was involved. Henrikku Terayama served as a supporting director, and instructed me while I played the role of a madame in a short movie screened within the play. Juzo Itami, as I look back, was a truly revolutionary figure. He wasn’t only a prominent director but also a versatile actor, and his roles left a lasting impression on me even before his later film works. Much like us, his wife, Nobuko Miyamoto, was the co-creator appearing in his works that touched every nook and corner of Japanese society and human nature.
KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory launched just recently, in 2020. What inspired you to form a new ensemble?
Ogawa: The idea began to bud when Keralino Sandorovich and I got married. We wanted to create a new ensemble that would bring us closer together in mutual creation. However, at that time, we didn’t have a concrete concept, and it took us over ten years for the idea to take its final shape. Since theatre is a collaborative art that engages many people in the creation process, including management, all these factors ultimately prolonged it in time.
Keralino Sandorovich: Just before the official launch of KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory, we finalized ‘Cinema and Lovers’ which was somewhat a harbinger of our new ensemble, and it wouldn’t be incongruous to perceive it as a KEMURI piece. However, it didn’t unfold as originally intended. Had we started a bit earlier, it might have worked out. During Nylon 100˚C I did two pieces based on Kunio Kishida with Ogawa-san and since then our chemistry worked ballistically.
How would you juxtapose the dramaturgy of KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory with that of Nylon 100˚C?
Ogawa: My personal impression is that upon launching KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory, Keralino began venturing into domains he might not have ventured otherwise. For instance, he took on a solemn portrayal of the bond between a single man and woman, as seen in ‘The Woman in the Dunes’. Over the past four years, much like a craftsman-cook experimenting with different seasonings, I believe he’s come to see this exploration as an inevitable step in developing one’s taste and theatrical skill. I, too, am growing by performing with other ensembles. Recently, I finished ‘Sanin Kichisa’, a contemporary adaptation of the seven-act kabuki play by Mokuami Kawatake, directed through the lenses of Kinoshita Kabuki Theatre Company. Keralino, on the other hand, directed a nonsense play, ‘Memories of the Edo Period’. In other words, this year has brought a surprising turn toward Japanese tradition.
Keralino: It has been thirty-one years since the establishment of Nylon 100˚C and before that, in 1985, I formed the Kenko Theatre Group, marking forty years of my theatrical career. In the very beginning, I would direct mainly absurd comedies, being an ardent fan of Marx Brothers and Monty Python. My main goal at the time was to make people laugh. In other words, I was certain of what I wanted to do and how I wanted to direct. With KEMURI Theatrical Laboratory, however, I am engaging with works that I might have once thought other directors could handle better, pieces I didn’t feel a strong need to explore myself. ‘The Woman in the Dunes’ is precisely an example of a novel I was initially hesitant to tackle, but when I finally confronted the original, I gradually grasped the nuances of its dramaturgy. In contrast, ‘The Goddess of Basil Town’ was more like Frank Capra meeting ‘The Threepenny Opera’. With the outbreak of the pandemic and its repercussions, one can also observe a shift towards even graver themes, as we explore in ‘I’m So Sleepy’.
Kobo Abe’s prose is experiencing a true renaissance today. How do you approach an adaptation when the bar has already been set so high by Hiroshi Teshigahara work and the iconic performance of leading actress Kyoko Kishida?
Ogawa: When I first approached Abe Kobo’s works, I read and watched the adaptations ‘Woman in the Dunes’ and ‘The Face of Another’ in succession, and I must admit that the latter utterly captivated me. At that time, I was still a teenage girl inspired by Kishida’s tremendous performance, viewing it from the perspective of an aspiring young actress. ‘Woman in the Dunes’ can be interpreted as a parable on modern society; however, to me, it has always felt like a narrative poem that leaves an unspoken blank at the end, without any clear answer, as if it bypasses the traditional four-part structure of introduction, development, turn and conclusion. Kishida captured this disorganization beautifully with her gaze and physical expression; that nostalgic feeling of loneliness. This, of course, is my personal view as an audience member. As an actress, however, it is an exploration of what lies between life and death. It has always been my dream to stage it, not as a conventional narrative adaptation, but as a performative, non-narrative piece that defies logic.
Keralino: That being said, one cannot deny the craftsmanship of Teshigahara’s lenses and the close-ups, so from the very start, we were aware the task would be challenging. If it hadn’t been for Ogawa-san, I would never have dared to tackle it. However, she treats the novel very personally, while for me, what is interesting is what lies in the background—not only the connection between the protagonists, but the relationship between the outer world and the village people, the juxtaposition between man’s life in the town and in the dunes, and the choice of escape after the ladder is provided. When you adapt such abstract work into a play, you need to visualize it for the audience. On the other hand, it was a good experience to enclose it in the walls of Theatre Tram, a small-capacity venue that captures Kobo Abe’s world very well, and the live music by Yoko Ueno raptures the audience. As you might remember, there is a puppetry scene of the escape. Instead of making Toru Nakamura run wildly in the narrow space, which would have looked more like a farce, we decided to depict it through puppets, giving space for the audience’s imagination. Paradoxically, it was an inspiring experience to be bound by the original and its own limitations, yet still able to experiment freely with the form.
Limitations and boundaries gradually became a visible theme, as both ‘Woman in the Dunes’ and ‘I’m So Sleepy’ share similar Kafkaesque style treating about dystopian society.
Ogawa: Both Keralino and I feel that theatre has its natural limitations. It’s like a ceremony for the repose of a departed soul. Figuratively speaking, when someone is drowning, you should extend a helping hand. If you can’t, then at least stop and pray to appease the death. Both plays, thus, pose the question: for whom is the requiem being offered?
Keralino: I am trying to refrain from unambiguous anti-war dramas and political statements. For instance, in ‘I’m So Sleepy’, the characters are unconsciously bound by social rules and expectations. This creates a situation in which individual freedom and autonomy are restricted. The blurring of the boundary between dreams and reality expressed in the work symbolizes how fragile and unstable the existence of individuals is in society. I could have equally divided the protagonists between oppressors and the oppressed, but then the message would have been distorted. Rather than giving a clear answer, I would prefer the audience to interpret the story for themselves.
What is your reflection on the contemporary Japanese theatre in the turbulent times of political correctness?
Together: Youth are not going to the theatre anymore, partly due to expensive ticket prices. Our role is to bridge the gap to the next generation of audiences. Previously, there were pioneers like Shuji Terayama and Tsuka Kohei, followed by Hideki Noda with his dynamic action and wordplay. Today, especially with the loss of Amano Tengai and Juro Kara, it’s hard to find such pillars. Shogekijo (small theatre venues) were once experimental grounds, frequently used by the likes of Tengai Amano or Terayama. Kitamura, a Nagoya playwright, wrote in a memorial letter that the industry’s biggest failing was not elevating Amano-san higher. Audience habits have inevitably changed with time. We are concerned that younger theatre artists don’t fully utilize the potential of small venues like The Suzunari Theatre in Shimokitazawa, where creators can closely engage with the audience. Therefore, even though we’ve outgrown shogekijo, we return every year or two to stay connected with the audience.
