Our Cosmic Dust | Park Theatre

Where do people go after they die? Our Cosmic Dust, written and directed by Michinari Ozawa, invites the audience to explore this question by following a young boy on a journey to find his father. After its premiere in Japan in 2023, the play was translated and adapted by Susan Momoko Hingley and brought to the Park Theatre.

After Shotaro's (Hiroki Berrecloth) father passes away, his mother Usami (Millie Hikasa) tells him that his father has become a star. One day, without telling anyone, Shotaro sets off on a journey to find his father. When Usami realizes her son has disappeared, she becomes deeply worried for his safety and follows his trail, determined to find him. Along the way, she meets several people who had crossed paths with Shotaro: Nurse Tara (Nina Bowers), crematorium worker Alastair (Hari MacKinnon), and Orion (Ian Hallard), the owner of the planetarium. Like Shotaro and Usami, each of them has experienced loss—Tara lost her mother, Alastair lost his dog, and Orion lost his husband. Through their conversations, each character shares their own perspective on death.

At the back of the stage is a large screen (Eika Shimbo), which displays black-and-white hand-drawn images that change throughout Usami and Shotaro’s journey—sometimes stars, sometimes a door inside a hospital, or even children’s doodles. This visual storytelling gives the play the feeling of a picture book unfolding live on stage. The use of music in the production is perfectly timed to heighten the emotional impact. In a scene where Usami breaks down and argues with others out of frustration at Shotaro's silence, the music (Tomohiro Kaburagi, ORENOGRAFFITI) remains soft and gentle. The contrast between the characters' shouting and the delicate music creates a more immersive emotional experience. At the same time, because it is the projections, music, and lighting (Jodie Underwood) that truly bring this world to life—so when these elements aren’t consistently present, the story momentarily loses some of its grip.  

In the play, Shotaro is portrayed through a puppet. Berrecloth handles the puppet with remarkable skill, making it seem as if it truly has a life of its own. Although the father’s presence is mostly just a faint figure described through Usami’s memories, there is a moment when Berrecloth suddenly shifts from being the puppeteer to interacting with the puppet as a character. Watching him cradle the small puppet and gently pat its back, I suddenly realised—in that moment, he has become the father. The transition is smooth and natural, and the scene is especially touching. Hikasa’s portrayal of Usami is emotionally authentic.

Through her performance, it becomes clear that it’s not only Shotaro who is grieving, and Usami’s pain may be even deeper. Unfortunately, the characters played by Bowers and MacKinnon come across as a bit exaggerated and cartoonish, lacking depth and feeling more like figures from a children’s book. However, Hallard’s Orion is kind, humorous, and radiates a calm energy that brings a sense of comfort.

On the surface, Our Cosmic Dust appears to be about a child coping with the loss of his father. However, the emotions it explores are deeply universal, just as the original story, rooted in Japan, and has become something more inclusive, resonating with people from all backgrounds. In its current form, although it is beautifully displayed, the play still feels more like a fairy tale meant for children. If it were reimagined as a story that speaks equally to both adults and children, it could reach and touch an even wider audience.

Our Cosmic Dust runs at Park Theatre until 7th July 2025.

Tickets and More Information

★★★★☆ (4*)

Gifted tickets in return for an honest review | Photography by Pamela Raith