The movie cuts to a sunrise over Hiroshima. It’s a beautiful palate that matches the previous scene, filled with shades of blue and orange. And before we can think to ask what comes next, we hear Kafuku’s voice as Vanya: “I refuse! Wait, I’m not done yet!”
And then we enter Vanya’s great self-pitying scene from Act III:
You destroyed my life. I’ve never lived. Because of you, I wasted the best years of my life and spoiled them. You’re my foe. My bitter enemy!
But then we witness the pure brilliance of Kafuku’s production in a mad cacophony of language … Japanese to Tagalog, back to Japanese to Mandarin. All fitting seamlessly. Do they hear and understand one another? Well, perhaps it’s fair to ask if Chekhov’s characters heard and understood one another in the original Russian. My favorite moment is when the Professor says in Tagalog: “What earthly right have you to use such language to me?”
Chekhov understood the disconnect in words, the ways we use language to divide one another (or, harkening Nietzsche, how in all talk there’s at least a grain of contempt) … even when everything is spoken clearly and easy to understand, misunderstanding and divisive discourse is rampant. Vanya demands to be heard above all the discord, asserting:
I’m gifted and intelligent. Courageous, too. If I’d lived normally, I might have been another Schopenhauer or Dostoyevsky. I’m sick of this nonsense! I’m losing my mind. Mother, I can’t take it anymore!
It’s at this moment that Vanya decides to shoot the professor. Kafuku stalks offstage, and just as in the earlier scene in the film when he played Vanya, Kafuku hyperventilates at a table and seems on the verge of a collapse.
But there’s a beautiful contrast between the earlier near-breakdown and this one. Early in the film, Kafuku faces his demons alone. No one looks on or reaches out. This time, however, one by one cast mates and crew look on with care and concern. We see now just how Kafuku has grown throughout the film. He may still fight his demons, but he’s no longer doing so alone. He’s created a circle of care around him.
The movie then creates some distance for Kafuku and enters the dressing room. Cast members sit watching the production on a monitor as it continues towards the Act IV conclusion. We see them calmly watching, making and drinking tea, and showing care for one another. Janice Chang gets the last shot in the dressing room, watching the monitor intently as we move towards Sonya’s moment.
We then return to the stage. I’ve seen many productions of Uncle Vanya and it is typical for Vanya to set up the monologue in complete breakdown and despair. But Kafuku opts for a more interesting approach… he wears a smile as he says “I’m miserable.”
Sonya’s monologue is one of the most famous pieces in theater, a showcase for actresses. I doubt if anyone ever performed Sonya’s monologue in Korean sign language before. It starts in a long shot so that the movie-going audience can see how it was on stage — with all the play’s languages displayed at once in superscript on screens. We then get a shot of the audience, just long enough to see Watari. She stands out by wearing a light blue jacket amid a sea of olive greens and greys.
Sonya is wearing a bluish/green shirt in the scene as well, creating a psychic connection between them. And it’s glorious to see her perform her expressive words from behind Vanya, the gestures rising beside him like a dance, her face over his left shoulder. Touch is so important to the performance. She lays her hands on his shoulders, then touches his head.
It feels like a second person pantomime or even a silent film performance. The gestures of the language are beautiful and poetic. The performers also maintain such beautiful pacing, never rushing, always ensuring delivered meaning even to those who don’t know sign language.
And unlike most performances of Vanya, where the tears remain on his face through the speech, Kafuku takes on a sense of wonder towards the end. Her vision of redemption enraptures him and provides hope.
The play ends with Sonya embracing Vanya — and then a closeup of Watari, Kafuku’s transformed soul daughter. They fade out with Sonya’s arms around Kafuku. He calmly sighing. The last shot is of a dim lantern in a dark room.