David Shih (center) in SUMO at The Public Theater. Photo: Joan Marcus
When we discuss toxic masculinity, it is generally to look at its effects on marginalized groups, particularly women—think of all the work that has been done to expose how sexism damages and holds back women and girls, how harmful and pervasive domestic violence and rape are in creating a culture of oppression. But what about how chauvinism affects men? In SUMO, now playing at the Public Theater, playwright Lisa Sanaye Dring makes the case that machismo is destructive to those in power, too.
Set in the all-male space of sumo wrestling, the play follows aspiring wrestler Akio (played with complexity and depth by Scott Keiji Takeda) from his first days in the training facility (or heya) of top-dog Mitsuo (an extremely convincing and intimidating David Shih) through his steady climb in the heya’s ranks. Akio finds himself caught between the heya’s cooperative spirit and its leader’s win-at-all-costs philosophy, and must choose whom to put first: himself or the good of the community.
SUMO’s design artists do an excellent job transporting the audience into this world. Starting with Shih-Wei Wu’s beautiful and powerful Taiko drumming, director Ralph B. Peña orchestrates both sound and visual elements, creating a stunning mise-en-scène that is firing on all cylinders. Wilson Chin’s set places the sumo ring, the dohyō, front and center, so we never forget where we are. But the set’s clean lines prove very versatile, allowing the action to shift from one space to another seamlessly. Abetted by Hana S. Kim’s sometimes literal, sometimes figurative projections, the backdrop manages to walk the line and be interesting without being distracting.
Lighting designer Paul Whitaker also makes full use of his grid, creating subtle shifts to define the space when the cast is in the training facility and appropriately gaudy, over-the-top, attention-grabbing cues when the action shifts to sumo tournaments. Fabian Obispo performs a similar trick with the soundscape and (non-Taiko) music composition, adding little touches that embellish lightly or gigantic tracks that hit you over the head and transform the Public’s 275-seat Anspacher Theater into a sumo stadium ten times the size.
I hope you’ll forgive me if I continue to wax poetic about the show’s craftspeople because I’d be criminally negligent if I failed to mention Mariko Ohigashi’s costumes and Alberto Alvarado’s hair/wig/makeup. On top of their artistry, there is a feat of engineering I have to call out. Both wigs and costumes let the cast members do what they need to with confidence that nothing will slip out of place. Given how little the actors are often wearing and how great the fight choreography’s demands, their achievement is nothing short of incredible.
The cast is peopled with solid performers who rise to the script’s considerable athleticism. In addition to the wonderful work of Takeda and Shih, Ahmad Kamal serves as the play’s emotional core. As Ren, Kamal provides a convincing holistic alternative to Shih’s autocratic Mitsuo.
Lisa Sanaye Dring’s script has many strengths, but a few weaknesses. In the wins column, the play is economical in its needed summary of sumo, giving the audience a road map so that we are able to follow the action. The characters are well-defined, the action moves at a good pace, and the dialogue is sharp, often funny. But I found the exploration of masculinity to be clunky at times, or perhaps lacking nuance; there’s never any doubt what choice Akio should make, no chance to believe the emotionally out-of-touch Mitsuo is ever in the right. At the end of the day (and the play) I would have liked to come away with more to think about, given the issues Dring sets out to explore.
Whatever the script’s shortcomings, SUMO gives us a glimpse of a world most of us wouldn’t otherwise see. And isn’t that what makes theater (and art in general) so great, exposing us to ideas and situations that we don’t get to experience in our everyday lives?