Fukuoka Monogatari: A Living Collision of Gaze and Movement

Last November, I saw Fukuoka Monogatari by Suguru Yamamoto and HANCHU-YUEI at the Taipei Performing Arts Center, and I’m still thinking about it.

This was less a traditional play and more a living installation—a constantly shifting study of the male and female gaze, and how our perceptions create judgment and social norms over time. The cast was as diverse as the ideas onstage: a bodybuilder, martial artists, tango dancers, drag queens, B-girls, gymnasts, and traditional Asian dance performers. Together, they shaped a world that felt simultaneously ancient and right now.

The staging was intimate. We sat on little red stools like you’d find at a night market, surrounding the performers on three sides. From that close, there was nowhere to hide—from them or from ourselves. Sweat occasionally landed on the front row, and you could hear the strain and breath of the dancers as part of the score itself. They broke the fourth wall often, locking eyes with us, challenging us to consider our own gaze. It wasn’t always comfortable, but it was honest.

When the lights came up, my friend turned to me and said, “I don’t know what I just saw, but I liked it.” For me, that’s the highest compliment this kind of performance can earn.