"The Nosebleed" Review: An Evening Of Grief, Failures, And Goodbyes

Upper West Side NY

14 October, 2021

3:54 PM

Description

Columbia Daily Spectator BY CLARE DONALDSON OCTOBER 11, 2021 The playwright's father sits behind a neat black desk beneath an empty picture frame. He never turns toward the audience. All we see is the back of his head and his bright red "Members Only" jacket. Written and directed by Brooklyn-based playwright, director, actor, and translator, Aya Ogawa, CC '97, "The Nosebleed," which premiered at the Japan Society on Oct. 1, delves into Ogawa's complicated relationship with their late father. The play explores the cultural and generational gap between the two family members and the questions and fears that Ogawa faces as a parent today. Originally inspired by their son's "titular nosebleed" during a family trip in Japan, Ogawa crafts a quietly poignant story reflecting their father's legacy. From the moment the show begins, "The Nosebleed" enjoys subverting the audience's expectations of what they might come to expect in a "traditional" theater production. The role of Aya is shared between four different actors over the course of the show while Ogawa portrays their father and 5-year-old son. The stage is sparse, decorated with a single desk and a couple of chairs. The house lights almost never turn off, creating a feeling of intimacy between the actors and the audience. The scenes oscillate between moments of hilarity, such as when two of the Ayas reenact their favorite scene from "The Bachelor," to moments of extreme grief and pain, like the scene when "Aya" and their mother decide to let Ogawa's father go. The Ayas never allow the audience to be passive viewers in the story. They continuously address the audience, either through narration or through deeply personal questions they pose to viewers. Such questions include: "Who here has a father who has died?" and "Who here hates their father?" With the house lights on, these questions feel even more vulnerable for both the Ayas and the audience, and this vulnerability leaves space for trust and connection between the two. Ogawa manages to invite the audience into some of the most painful and heart-wrenching moments of their life. Ogawa works through their own questions such as, how they can honor a father that they feel like they never truly knew and asks the audience what they should do with the questions they wish they could have asked him. "My father died when I was 33 years old. And in those 33 years during which our time on this planet overlapped, we had two conversations. The first conversation was when I was about to go away to college," one Aya says to the audience. The second conversation is when the Ayas ask their father why he drew a picture of Princess Diana and put it in the picture frame above his desk. "She died," their father says. "I know," another Aya replies. "She meant something to a lot of people," Ogawa's father explains, never once turning to look back at the Ayas. It is an image that haunts the show like a ghost, leaving the audience with a feeling of yearning to know exactly who this man was. But unfortunately, we, like the playwright, can only make do with the pieces he left behind. "That's basically everything I can tell you about my father," the second Aya says to the audience. Besides the quick mention of Akira Ogawa's multi-colored collection of "Members Only" jackets and how he once drew a picture of Princess Diana, the audience is not told much else about him. The distance in their relationship is only further highlighted in a scene toward the end of the play when the Ayas ask their father question after question, pleading for the answers they know they will never get to hear. In perhaps the most heart-breaking and moving part of the play, the Ayas perform what feels like their ultimate tribute to their father. They invite the audience to write down the questions they wish they could ask their fathers, regardless of if they are still alive, and afterward, the Ayas collect the questions from the audience. Instead of reading them aloud, the Ayas shred them and use them as the ashes for the funeral rites that they perform in a final tribute to their father. During the final moments of the show, the musical accompaniment for "My Way" begins to play, and Aya No. 4 looks at the audience, addressing them one last time. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Diana Princess of Wales!" A spotlight shines on the door next to the left aisle of the theater, then Aya No. 3, dressed as Diana, enters the room and slowly approaches Ogawa's father. She takes him by the arm, and for one last moment, they both turn toward the audience before slowly exiting through the stage door. It's both a meeting and a goodbye. Staff writer Clare Donaldson can be contacted at [email protected]. Follow Spectator on Twitter @ColumbiaSpec. Founded in 1877, the Columbia Daily Spectator is the independent undergraduate newspaper of Columbia University, serving thousands of readers in Morningside Heights, West Harlem, and beyond. Read more at columbiaspectator.com and donate here.