While Kinouchi, born and raised in Japan, has said that his sense of longing “comes from living between cultures,” and the work having emerged from an “extended exchange of drawings, dances, models, and conversations, bringing architecture and choreography into a shared creative process,” his sense of movement compels the viewer to go with him on this journey of discovery, his body a cypher for a world on the brink.

This threshold also served as an intermission where audience members were encouraged to move about the space as several stagehands rearranged the walls in a cage-like formation, now dubbed “Section 2, Wall-Body, Cube.” In other words, think Kafka’s A Hunger Artist with Kinouchi sitting on his knees and appearing trapped—the lights coming up as if he were being interrogated, his hands-on-face mode telegraphing angst. 

And yes, that hallmark of Butoh—the silent scream—was also present, the dancer now a kind of shadow puppet, one seeming to say we are all trapped in our bodies, as well as within walls, moveable or not. But once this caged bird was outside the box and behind it, he was, unfortunately, obscured, meaning Kinouchi could benefit from a dramaturg, as both he and Hiroshi are credited with artistic direction. In fact, this writer believes that the dance would be better served if it began with the cage, this container begging its inhabitant to seek an outlet.

Still, whether walking gingerly backwards or assuming a neo-crucifixion pose—or one signifying thanks, his arms shooting skywards—Kinouchi was, it seemed, made to move, animating, along the way, something as inanimate as, well, a wall. Shades of Hitchcock’s Rear Window loomed large, the shadows creating amorphous tableaux in what might be seen as some kind of supplication house, his presence divine, even when confined.

With a serene stillness butting up against the rhythmic thrust of the soundtrack, Kinouchi, back lit, gave off a Kabuki vibe. Yet even while contained within the stricture of those walls, his starry presence ruled. As the work demanded, though, that he free himself, it was a welcome gesture when he emerged from confinement and, at long last, began peeling off his top and pants (more, please!). Again, prayer hands ruled, and hope, thankfully, seemed within reach.

Always a remarkable ensemble performer, Kinouchi has much to say as a solo artist. Grateful for his gifts, this scribe looks forward to his continuing the corporeal conversation.