Reviewed by:

• Eraser Mountain by Toshiki Okada
• Sarah Lucie

Eraser Mountain does not make for a fun or pleasurable night at the theatre, nor does it intend to. Instead, through a stage densely packed with objects and theatre space saturated with a grating noise, the performance confronts its audience with the question of humanity’s place in the Anthropocene. Toshiki Okada, writer and director, creates a theatrical atmosphere that embodies an alternate worldview, where the human is considered equal to other nonhuman actors in the space, and objects do not exist for the benefit or pleasure of the human.

Created in Japan in 2019 and performed at New York City’s Skirball Center in 2020, Eraser Mountain was developed within the context of the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake that caused an environmental disaster by destroying the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant. Since then, the government has stripped a mountainous landscape of rocks and soil, transporting them to the area around Rikuzentakata in order to elevate the land to mitigate potential future destruction from tsunami waves. Attempts to restore a way of human life in one area led to devastating damage in another. Okada’s doubts about the ways in which humans attempt to control, measure, and manipulate their surroundings provided the foundation of this project. The resulting performance embeds the actor within their environment, and the humans onstage and in the audience are removed from any central, superior position. Okada seems to suggest that while this sensation may not be pleasurable, it is a necessary perspective to experience and accept. [End Page 103]

Two human actors perform for the camera, with the object ensemble in Eraser Mountain. (Photo: Yuki Moriya.)

At the New York production, audiences entered into a vibrating atmosphere, already alive with sounds and objects. Indeed, the ensemble of objects—arranged in a complex mesh of a sculpture on stage designed by Teppei Kaneuji—was ostensibly the star performer. This ensemble included meticulously aligned metal pipes, a slew of tennis balls, a soccer net, some pieces of wood, differently colored bowls, at least one fan, a video camera, and a whole lot of other stuff. It was within this landscape that the six human performers moved throughout three parts. These actors appeared nameless, and they continuously shifted their roles onstage so that there was not a sense of character attached to any particular body, nor any narrative through line. Also, a machine, something like a cement mixer, continuously circled and produced a fiercely grating noise, which was amplified by a microphone and steadily grew in intensity under the planning of Raku Nakahara.

In part 1, a person’s washing machine had broken, revealing the ways in which the human depends upon it: intimately and blindly. Since the human had no awareness of the machine’s workings, he was unable to fix it. Thus he finds himself at a laundromat with others who also have broken washing machines. The human actors became like objects onstage, described and addressed only through their aesthetic qualities—their shapes, superficial clothing details, and positions in space. As they spoke they moved in Okada’s signature gestural style, in which movements are complementary to the dialogue, but not in a realistic or logical way. The poetic and circular dialogue ruminated on the idea of broken machines, wasted time, and the machines’ typically invisible labor that allows the human to move more quickly and mindlessly through their day. But the performance suggested the value of slowing down and turning attention toward the nonhuman workers in our midst. What does the machine’s work actually look like if we have to notice? The horrible sound grew throughout this section, and in the audience, I grew more used to it, until it grew again. The soundwaves had tangible effects on the body, adding to a growing atmosphere of tension. Finally, at the end of this first part, the sound stopped and there was audible relief from the audience.

In part 2, the...

审核人：

• 冈田俊树的橡皮擦山
• 莎拉·露西（Sarah Lucie）

橡皮擦山（Eraser Mountain）不会在剧院里度过一个有趣或令人愉悦的夜晚，也不打算这样做。取而代之的是，通过一个装满物品的舞台和充满光栅声的剧院空间，表演将人类面对人类世代的问题摆在面前。作家兼导演冈田俊树（Toshiki Okada）创造了一种戏剧化的气氛，体现了一种替代的世界观，即人类被认为与该空间中的其他非人类角色是平等的，并且不存在为了人类的利益或乐趣而存在的物体。

它于2019年在日本创立，并于2020年在纽约市Skirball中心的橡皮擦山演出它是在2011年东北东北大地震的背景下开发的，该地震通过摧毁福岛第一核电站造成了环境灾难。自那时以来，政府剥夺了山区的岩石和土壤景观，将其运送到陆前高田附近地区，以提高土地面积，以减轻海啸将来可能造成的破坏。试图在一个地区恢复人类生活的方式导致了另一地区的毁灭性破坏。冈田对人类试图控制，测量和操纵周围环境的方式的怀疑为该项目奠定了基础。最终的表演将演员嵌入他们的环境中，舞台上和观众中的人被从任何中央优越位置上移开。冈田似乎暗示，虽然这种感觉可能并不令人愉快，[完第103页]

两位人类演员为相机表演，对象合奏在橡皮擦山中。（照片：Yuki Moriya。）

在纽约制作中，观众进入了一个充满声音和物体的充满活力的氛围。确实，由Teppei Kaneuji设计的舞台上的复杂物体排列在雕塑的复杂网格中，表面上显然是最出色的表演者。这个合奏包括精心对准的金属管，一串网球，一个足球网，一些木头，颜色不同的碗，至少一个风扇，一台摄像机以及很多其他东西。正是在这一景观中，六位人类表演者移动了三个部分。这些演员显得无名，他们不断地在舞台上转移角色，以使任何特定的身体都没有品格的感觉，也没有线条的叙事。此外，一台机器（例如水泥搅拌机）连续地盘旋并产生强烈的光栅噪音，

在第1部分中，一个人的洗衣机坏了，揭示了人类赖以生存的方式：亲密而盲目。由于人类不了解机器的工作原理，因此无法对其进行修复。因此，他发现自己和其他洗衣机损坏的自助洗衣店。人类演员变得像舞台上的物体，只能通过其美学特质来形容和称呼它们的形状，肤浅的服装细节以及在空间中的位置。当他们说话时，他们以冈田的标志性手势风格移动，这种动作是对话的补充，但不是以现实或逻辑的方式进行的。充满诗意和循环的对话反思了机器破损，浪费时间以及机器通常看不见的劳动的思想，这些劳动使人们在一天中可以更快，更轻松地移动。但是这种表现表明，放慢脚步，将注意力转向我们中间的非人类工人的价值。如果必须注意，机器的工作实际上是什么样的？恐怖的声音在本节中不断蔓延，在听众中，我逐渐习惯了，直到它再次增长。声波对身体产生了明显的影响，增加了不断增加的紧张气氛。最终，在第一部分的结尾，声音停止了，听众听到了声音的舒缓感。加剧了紧张气氛。最终，在第一部分的结尾，声音停止了，听众听到了声音的舒缓感。加剧了紧张气氛。最终，在第一部分的结尾，声音停止了，听众听到了声音的舒缓感。

在第2部分中，...