Pulled a prank with a particular pastry

Seuls en Scène 2022 presents Traces: My experience with French theater

By Regina Roberts | Contributing Prospect Writer

The play “Traces,” presented in the Marie and Edward Matthews ’53 Acting Studio on Sept. 19 and 20, began with the melodic sound of the kora, a West African string instrument. The lights illuminated the stage, spotlighting the musician Simon Winse. The music was a trance-inducing force that I felt I could listen to for hours. When actor Étienne Minoungou joined on stage and began speaking, I was reminded that the play was in French, a language I only know a handful of words in. I was a bit lost during his preface of the show, when the subtitles had yet to appear; as someone who studies Spanish, I unsuccessfully tried to latch onto some familiar words.

When the play started, helpful subtitles appeared on a screen above. From then on, I alternated my focus from the actors performing in French in real time to the English subtitles so I could make sense of the story. Then something interesting happened — I started relying on the subtitles less and less.

In the span of an hour, I did not suddenly begin to understand French. Rather, I started to recognize the meaning of some words, their connotations in the play, and the emotions they provoked. The emotion of Minoungou was what really connected me and the language. I could feel his anguish, his exasperation, his hope. I started to follow the story of the African slave trade and its effect on the continent — a story I knew well from history classes, but one I had never experienced in such a way before.

During the performance, Minoungou occasionally posed questions to the audience, directly looking at specific people. I wasn’t sure if it was scripted, but there were no subtitles during this part, so I was at a loss; only the French speakers in the audience could respond. It was an amazing way to include audience participation, and I was captivated even though I did not understand the exchange.

At one point, he posed a question to the front row, where I was seated. We locked eyes as he waited for a response. My “answer” was a smile and a nod. Luckily, that was sufficient — or perhaps, he sensed my hesitation and graciously continued. Surprisingly, I did not feel as uncomfortable about the situation as I had expected. Actually, engaging with the language added to my fascination. I could not speak a word of French, but after that, I felt more included in the experience. I was not only watching a show; I was in it.

“Traces,” which is inspired by the lyrical text of the same name by Senegalese philosopher and poet Felwine Sarr, ends with a call to action. During the final moments, I focused more on the expressions of the performers rather than the words on the screen. While I could not recount every word, I came to understand the intent behind them. Yet, when the show concluded, I was not entirely sure that it was done. For me, there was no definite ending. First, the actor’s portrayal of optimism for future change was a message that had persistent continuity. Mostly, however, hearing the play in French created a certain temporal fluidity. I was not overly caught up on every word, simply because I did not understand them. Instead, I moved with the story at my own pace. Although it was slow, it made every word I read, heard, and felt even more meaningful.

Before the play began, as I walked into the corridor of the acting studio, it was intimidating and humbling to hear everyone around me speaking in French. However, by the end of the show, I felt the discomfort was necessary.

When I watch TV shows in Spanish, I can usually grasp the words or rewind if necessary, but interacting with a different language during a live performance was an entirely unfamiliar experience. I know that experience will not end here, and I am excited to continue my immersion into different languages by exploring various art forms. I also challenge you, the reader, to engage with art that pushes you out of your comfort zone.

While the last show for the season was on Sept. 23, the Princeton French Theater Festival is annual, going on its 12th year, so you will surely have an opportunity to experience the arts in another language, either with this program or others.

Even after the show ended, I remained transfixed by the words and the music. One phrase that was repeatedly mentioned was “et le temps a passé,” meaning “and time passed.” Indeed, as time passed during the show, I emerged with a different feeling than when I had entered – accomplissement.

Regina Roberts is a contributing writer for The Prospect at the ‘Prince.’ She can be reached at rr8156@princeton.edu, or on Instagram at @regina_r17.

REGINA ROBERTS / THE DAILY PRINCETONIAN

Award-winning filmmaker Ryûsuke Hamaguchi visits Princeton

By Tyler Wilson | Contributing Writer

On Sept. 23, Ryūsuke Hamaguchi came to Princeton’s campus, kicking off the weeklong “Conversations” that began with the Humanities Council’s Fall 2022 Belknap Global Conversation at Betts Auditorium. Throughout the week in residence — sponsored by Department of East Asian Studies, the Department of Comparative Literature, the Program in East Asian Studies, and the Committee for Film Studies — the award-winning director is leading a series of workshops where some students will create and present short films. In tandem, the Princeton Garden Theatre is holding multiple screenings of a mini retrospective of his most recent films.

Hamaguchi’s visit follows the breakout success of his latest feature film, “Drive My Car,” which won the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film at last spring’s ceremony and Best Screenplay at the Cannes Film Festival. The threehour film is meditative and highly emotional, capturing the hearts and minds of critics and viewers across the world.

The campus community buzzed with excitement from the Japanese director’s presence at the Bellknap Global Conversation. At the jam-packed Betts Auditorium, Hamaguchi fielded questions about his process from four panelists: Associate Professor in East Asian Studies Steven Chung, Associate Professor of Music Gavin Steingo, Professor of English Anne Cheng ’85, and Professor of Comparative Literature Thomas Hare ’75.

Hamaguchi began the event by thanking the University in English for having him back, which eh then quickly followed with “Let me speak in Japanese.”

Through translation provided by Tara McGowan ’90, Hamaguchi began discussing his process with the four panelists. The first topic of conversation was his documentary work – his initial entryway into the world of cinema.

Following Japan’s triple disaster of 2011 (an earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown), Hamaguchi began interviewing victims of the crisis, typically multiple people at once. These interview resulted in multiple documentaries directed by himself and Ko Sakai, including “The Sound of Waves,” “Voices from the Waves: Shinchimachi,” “Voices from the Waves: Kesennuma,” and “Storytellers.” While working to reconcile with the tragedy that had struck his home country, he came to realize that both the trauma of the disasters and the shared histories of the interviewees’ relationships could come through authentically on film. He found that although these interviewees knew each other well, they had never had these conversations in real life. When he saw these emotions peek through, it was unlike anything he had ever seen in fiction before, and he immediately wanted to incorporate that raw sincerity into his narrative films.

Hamaguchi credits folklore scholar Kazuko Ono, the subject of the documentary “Storytellers,” as the person who revealed this to him. Ono interviewed many survivors in the wake of the disasters, showing that by listening with wholehearted respect, it was possible to pull genuine emotions out of her interviewees. Hamaguchi utilizes these same techniques with his actors to imbue his work with its signature authenticity, blurring the lines between film and documentary.

In fact, this obsession with realness seems to define much of his work. Like the lead character of “Drive My Car,” a stage actor-director named Yūsuke Kafuku, Hamaguchi insists that his actors repeat their lines over and over again to rehearse. He believes that an actor should know more about their character than the audience — he even provided actors with supplemental texts containing more information about the characters than is present in the screenplay. Hamaguchi wants the dialogue to become a part of the actors’ bodies because their interactions keep his films engaging for the audience. It’s their almost intangible interiority that counts the most.

Hamaguchi finds these interior moments — specifically the internal shift in emotions — most present in the musicality of the human voice. When a character is talking for an extended period of time, he looks for moments when the voice is particularly beautiful. Sometimes, he thinks the voices sound so great that background music isn’t necessary. He jokes that he uses music when the directing is not going so well. Many directors avoid including too much dialogue because so much believability is found in the voice; it can be crippling to the film’s sense of immersion if not perfect. Hamaguchi is not afraid. He dives in head first.

Hamaguchi’s films are famous for being especially long. When asked why, he self-deprecatingly quipped, “Basically I think shorter films are better.” He believes that, despite their length, each of his films is as short as it can be. “Drive My Car” is about three hours long, with an opening credits sequence that arrives around 40-minutes into the film. His love of dialogue is partially responsible for that runtime, along with his desire to include as many different shots of actors listening as possible. But beyond that, his unique pace serves a different purpose. He believes that good storytelling is when the audience can fill in the world with you. For this reason, what is not said in a scene is incredibly important; long, extended moments of silence are just as integral to Hamaguchi as an emotionally-wrought monologue.

Hamaguchi ended the talk by answering audience questions. An audience member asked how satisfied he was with the authenticity of “Drive My Car.” He said he felt about 70 percent successful. For an artist like him, there is always work to be done.