Powerful Family Drama Played Out with Puppets

From the Winnipeg Free Press
By Holly Harris
Posted Tuesday, April 28th, 2026
★★★★½ out of five

Otosan makes a compelling case that a powerful theatrical experience doesn’t necessarily require grand sets, elaborate costumes, complicated, complex storylines — or for that matter, even spoken dialogue — to create deeply resonant, human stories that pierce the heart.

And the fact that this 45-minute play’s cast of characters are not made of flesh and bone, but 21st-century thermoplastics along with other bits and bobs, brought to life by four puppeteers, is further testament as to what true artistry is capable of.

Manitoba Theatre for Young People closes its season with the British Columbia-based Little Onion Puppet Company’s Otosan, a semi-autobiographical tale penned by Vancouver playwright/puppet maker/director Shizuka Kai.

The award-winning touring production, co-created with Randi Edmundson and Jess Amy Shead, opened Friday and runs weekends through May 17 at the company’s intimate Richardson Studio Theatre.

The often surprisingly dramatic narrative focuses on the unique parameters of father-daughter relationships, inspired by Kai’s own father’s travels to the Arctic as a wildlife documentary videographer to shoot footage of white wolves and Kodiaks.

After our plucky protagonist, young Shizu, impulsively throws herself into her gruff Otosan’s (father’s) suitcase while he’s preparing for his next trip up North, her parent’s coldly distant, emotional permafrost eventually thaws as they both rediscover their mutual appreciation and love for each other.

It’s the kind of wholly engaging, immersive show where you simply can’t believe that almost an entire hour has flown by, with its quartet of performers — Edmundson, Shead, June Fukumura and Victor Mariano — taking turns animating their non-human counterparts with seamlessly choreographed movement.

It’s also remarkable how expressive the quasi-cartoonish puppets are, as they (well, their respective actors) grunt, groan, giggle and even snore throughout the wordless play, propelled by an evocative score that features a crescendo of thundering taiko drums whenever danger is near.

The less-is-more set of a row of modular, wheeled tables expands to allow the play’s narrative to unfold, as well as providing a “backstage” (under-table?) area to hide the performers as they exchange puppets, or add costume pieces to puppets and performers alike, including Arctic-friendly down vests.

Actual archival video/still footage from Kai’s father’s travels serves as visual counterpoint throughout; the images, projected onto an upstage screen, add further dimension as well as verisimilitude, making this play personal.

Further bringing this story to life is an assortment of animal puppets designed by Stephanie Elgersma, including a flapping snowy owl that swoops perilously near the audience, skittering lemmings and a growling bear.

The effective lighting features warmer tones when Shizu plays with her tail-wagging pup, glued to her wildlife TV shows in a way that projects her longing for closer emotional connection with her father (snippets of Hinterland’s Who’s Who serve as a palpable parental stand-in that’s heartbreaking). Cooler, moonlit hues emerge when father and daughter slurp noodles together and gaze in wonder at constellations in the starry night sky (although this particular scene lags).

Kai sensitively balances her narrative of alienation and loneliness, whether by nature or nurture, with gentle humour. Seeing Shizu hopping to use the bathroom after emerging from her suitcase — only to be handed puppet-sized toilet tissue and a shovel by her father — is an experience it’s likely many of Sunday matinee’s crowd could relate to.

Other moments, such as when Shizu’s joyful bounding inadvertently leads to her father’s smashed VHS camera, create real dramatic tension on par with any Shakespearean tragedy; his anger is harrowing as a devastated, sobbing Shizu bolts away.

Another blink-and-you-miss-it moment comes with Shizu’s Daruma doll. With this traditional Japanese lucky charm, one of the doll’s blank eyes is filled in when establishing a life goal; the other orb is completed when that goal has been achieved.

As Shizu and her Otosan finally return home via a nifty floatplane, her little doll reappears, both eyes now painted in, signifying that the young girl’s dream of joining her father up North — and moreover, being seen, appreciated, respected, and unconditionally loved by him — has finally taken wing, as free and unfettered as a Great White Owl.

No words are needed in this truly touching capper to MTYP’s 2025/26 season.