I went to see reset-N’s "Valencia" at The Suzunari, a theatre in the redevelopment plan-shaken Shimokitazawa. Set in a small beauty salon, the piece was a kind of psychodrama illustrating the emotional ravels between the genders. It wasn't theatre as hyper-real as Potudo-ru for example, but everything from direction to performances and dialogues had a distinghuishedly realistic feel. But then the story took an unexpected turn and developed into an extremely absurd scenery that remained unsolved until the end (in consideration of those looking forward to future performances of the piece I refrain from revealing more details here).

However, it was no classical theatre of the absurd. In the cases of Samuel Beckett, Eugene Ionesco or Betsuyaku Minoru, the entire stage is an absurd setting that draws the viewer in from start to finish. Different from this, the first part of "Valencia" came across realistic and seamlessly connected with real, daily life. If you asked me for a schematic explanation, I'd call it theatre of realism integrating just one scene of absurd theatre.

In this sense, I'd draw a connection to the Magical Realism in literature, whereas here - as first and foremost in the work of Gabriel Garcia Marquez - authors usually stay close to the main storyline. Even though the technique of suddenly inserting unexpected scenes into an otherwise realistic plot is the same, in the case of "Valencia" the relationship with the story before and after the switch to the absurd is indisputably thin. I actually think that this one scene is in fact what playwright Natsui Takahiro originally wanted to show in the first place, so one might as well call it the core of the entire piece, as accidental as a sudden switch of space and time, with aliens paying a brief visit to our reality.

Teresa Hubbard/Alexander Birchler "Single Wide" (2002) / Courtesy: the artists

Similar scenes I witnessed last year in several artists' works. In Paul Thomas Anderson’s movie "Magnolia", for example, a great number of frogs fell from the sky. In his novel "Kafka on the Shore", Murakami Haruki created a similar scenery with "2000 sardines and mackerels" raining down. Anderson clearly drew his inspiration from David Lynch. In literature the likes of Paul Auster have been showing such tendencies from an early point, which, as a Japanese example, Maijo Otaro picked up and refined technically. (In his newest work "Disco Wednesdayyy" - in "Shincho", May issue - he covers in a straight fashion the "possible world" by placing the story from the beginning in the realm of hyper-realism. The first part of a trilogy, it’s somewhat close to Beckett or Betsuyaku.) In art, there is the "The World is A Stage -Stories Behind Pictures" exhibition at Mori Art Museum (through 6/19) with works by Gregory Crewdson, Teresa Hubbard/Alexander Birchler and others, who, rather then telling stories, are using certain plots as "seeds" out of which to cultivate the visitors' powers of imagination.

Sociologist Miyadai Shinji refers to "Magnolia" and Murakami’s novels (with the exception of "After the Quake") as examples for "stories depicting some kind of inexpressible sensation that emerges in moments where an unregulated 'world' suddenly breaks into ’society'" (in "Zetaubo Dannen Fukuin Eiga" Media Factory). According to Miyadai, "society" is the macrocosm that encompasses all things communicable, while the "world" is made up of things of all sorts. Although the primary community didn't differentiate between "society"and "world", both got separated due to the growing complexity of our society. He further explains that "our relationship to the 'world'" shaped by a "sensitivity to the 'world' rather than ’society'" needs to be "reframed." From this perspective he defends both "Magnolia" and the novels of Murakami Haruki.

On a basic level, I agree with his thoughts. As Takahata Isao keeps stressing in his critique of Miyazaki Hayao, enthralling pieces of fantasy/mystery are not exempt from blame of self-complacency. But moments when a taste of the "world" is being exposed somewhere around the frayed edges of "society" bring a primary kind of emotion that stirs the soul. As such moments have become rare in contemporary private life, I believe that it is cleverly presented fiction that can bring us satisfaction and excitement.

On the other hand there is a "world" existing inside "society" that tends to be forgotten, and I'd like to stress that there are also artists who dedicate their works to the expression of these fragments. One of them is Artur Zmijewski, who represents the Polish pavilion at this year’s Venice Biennale. Portraying deaf people singing a mass at church or bathing handicapped people in works like "Singing Lesson I" or "An Eye for An Eye" respectively (shown at Image Forum Festival 2005. The Tokyo event has closed, the Kyoto event is open until 5/15. The festival then travels to Fukuoka, Nagoya, Kanazawa and Yokohama), he depicts a "society/world" the physically unimpaired seldomly get to see (or subconsciously ignore). Far from expressing some kind of "pity for the impaired", Zmijewski raises the question how far artists today (and especially in the so-called "advanced nations") can share his broad outlook. A fairly precarious issue.