Theatre review: Forgiveness is an actorly feat of endurance and artistry

The Arts Club and Theatre Calgary’s joint production of Mark Sakamoto’s acclaimed memoir proves deeply moving—with the occasional guffaw

Yoshie Bancroft and June Fukumura in Forgiveness, 2023; set design by Pam Johnson; costume design by Joanna You; lighting design by John Webber. Photo by Moonrider Productions

 
 
 

Arts Club Theatre Company and Theatre Calgary present Forgiveness at the Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage until February 12

 

IF THERE’S ONE thing you wouldn’t expect to experience during a play about the atrocities and injustices of World War II, it’s laughter.

Yet the Arts Club Theatre and Theatre Calgary’s joint production of Mark Sakamoto’s acclaimed memoir, Forgiveness, was saturated with comedic moments—including a running gag centered on The Guess Who’s band name, à la Abbott and Costello. That there were guffaws as well as tears in the audience is a testament to the cast’s skill, Hiro Kanagawa’s deft stage adaptation, and Stafford Arima’s adept direction.

The latest play to be commissioned and developed by the Arts Club’s Silver Commissions program, Forgiveness is an intricate work that moves from past to present, place to place, narrator to narrator—interlacing dialogue between characters or juxtaposing scenes beside one another to illustrate parallels between the disparate family histories at the core of the story.

The work takes audiences through the contrasting, traumatic wartime experiences of Sakomoto’s grandparents: his paternal grandmother, Mitsue Sakamoto (Yoshie Bancroft), one of thousands of interned Japanese Canadians; and his maternal grandfather, Ralph MacLean (Griffin Cork), a decorated veteran who spent years in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp.

There is much ground to cover here, starting with establishing the families’ pre-wartime circumstances—intergenerational tension and casual racism in the case of the Sakamotos; alcoholism and abuse in the MacLean’s home—and moving through their experiences during and after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Their intersection comes about through the budding relationship between Mitsue’s son, Stan (Daniel Fong), and Ralph’s daughter, Diane (Allison Lynch), culminating in a family dinner that will bring their parents together for the first time. With many actors playing multiple roles throughout the almost three-hour-long production, including physically taxing scenes of battles, fist fights, and torture, the play is as much a feat of endurance as it is of artistry. But they’re up for the challenge, their energy and commitment never wavering.

Cork brings a deep tenderness to Ralph, who evolves from a young man trapped in an abusive home to a deeply traumatized soldier to a PTSD-wracked veteran. Bancroft gives Mitsue an instant likability and charm, and it’s wrenching to watch her endure the loss of her home, her community, and her innocence. Jovanni Sy, doing double duty as her father and the terrifyingly unpredictable Kato, is exceptional, as is Alana Hawley Purvis, who pulls off the magic trick of playing both Ralph’s mother and, later, wife—as well as the angry, mistrustful farmer on whose land the Sakamoto family spends years doing slave labour.

A sparse set illuminated by projected images, illustrations, and animations by Cindy Mochizuki and stunning lighting design from John Webber are effective at moving the audience across space and time—through kitchens filled with laughter to horrifying battle scenes to sugar-beet fields and back again.

The story of Sakamoto's grandparents is complex and multi-layered—as is this telling of it. Even so, this stage adaptation’s message is simple and powerfully conveyed: that healing from painful personal and historical traumas is possible with the simple act of forgiveness. 

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

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