In Japan during the Edo period, men with visual disabilities had their rights protected under the privileged system of Tōdōza, earning their livelihood as shamisen players, acupuncturists or massage therapists. Women, on the contrary, were always left out. “Set in that era, Sleeping Fires is not just a period drama but a deliberation on how the world evolves thereafter, given such a context, and especially on what the future holds for women like the two protagonists,” says Kuro Tanino. Even though the modern way of living is different, what remains to be explored is how people coexist with each other. The director draws upon the past to contemplate the present: “How do visually impaired people navigate this world? From bygone eras to the present day, the nature of loneliness and hardships of survival have not changed much, have they?”

Before writing the script, Tanino observed how people with visual impairments “see” the world by spending time with them. “During our interactions, I keep wondering: what exactly in this world are they ‘seeing’? What are they sensing? This is not a matter of just ‘seeing’ but where they place their attention, because the approach and nature of how they relate to the world are different from ours.” Tanino also indicates that these direct experiences soon gave him a direction, driving the narrative toward the theme of self-liberation. The story begins with the encounter between two female masseuses. One is a recluse living in the mountains, sensing others and the outer world with her hands; the other has her soul consumed by hatred—both struggling through love and hate in search of a way out. “Society imposes constraints everywhere. The protagonists, and we, nonetheless, all long for freedom. Such freedom, however, is not an outward display but a very personal journey of inner reflections. It has nothing to do with age or gender, nor is it merely about visual impairments; rather, it is about all forms of shackles in society.” The two blind women try hard to regain themselves, their quest for freedom mirroring the inner journey we all go through. In Tanino’s eyes, the seemingly dark ending of the revenge story is also a form of freedom—“for both the female and male characters in the story,” he adds, as long as one can escape from the societal framework and self-imposed prison.

In the script, Tanino depicts our physical sensations such as touch and sound. He begins with how a masseuse feels and soothes other bodies with her hands. “Massage is a form of communication—not through words, but through the temperature of the skin, the strength of a push and its direction, and even the rhythm of breath.” He also describes natural scenery in fascinating detail, such as the sounds of raindrops in the deep mountains. “It is difficult for the audience and visually impaired people to share certain details in the narrative, so I deliberately created elements other than visual, such as birdsongs and the smell of hotpot. Such non-visual information gives the audience a better idea of the spatial setting and thus a deeper understanding.” The director works tirelessly to fine-tune the raining scenes on stage. The sound of water leaks in the house—whether rapid or slow, clear or vague, loud or small, or confined to one single spot. Such minute differences can impart a vast range of meanings and moods to a dramatic scene.
To achieve what he is after, Tanino rehearsed with visually impaired actors. The experience, as he recalls, was an ongoing process of deconstruction and reconstruction. “The physical attributes and performance styles of visually impaired actors are markedly different. Sighted people move their eyes when they are thinking, but blind people do not. During rehearsals, when the two actresses were targeting someone or something, it felt like while having to stay clear-headed, they were using their bodies to imagine and comprehend their surroundings. The aura they exuded had an agility to it. Their body language was so fascinating that it lent their performance a unique texture.” Tanino also maintains that they can easily sense the true nature of what is around them; and compared with their sighted counterparts, they are more attentive when “seeing”, whereas those whose eyes can see turn out to be “blind”. “This is something I wish to get across in my piece,” Tanino adds.

As the script reads: “All people are blind. We never manage to touch the truth.” These beings who cannot see entrust their hearts frivolously to the present moment. Tanino questions: “We only see what we want to see. We only hear what we want to hear. However, is what’s lying in front of you the reality or not?” The attempt to put vision aside and perceive through touch ultimately has something to do with the flow of time. “We look at the watch, we see our wrinkles in the mirror, and we see changes in people or the streets; thereby we ‘see’ time—all are in fact visual perceptions. Visually impaired people cannot see these; they cannot see time, and their understanding of time is worlds apart from ours. Theatre is essentially an art of time. It is my wish to present a piece not meant to be viewed with our eyes but to be felt with our body.” After all, he adds, “I have a feeling that Sleeping Fires will be a journey of self-discovery for me.”