Sumo

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Sport has a millenia long history as prime storytelling material. That’s especially true of wrestling, with Gilgamesh once tossing his buddy Enkidu around the Mesopotamian mat, Beowulf taking things too far in defeating Grendel, and Jacob somehow summoning the biblical strength to overcome a heavenly opponent. Of course, the majority of Americans now solely comprehend that age-old physical contest as a visual assault of spandex and spangles. But wrestling has other cultural branches, too, most exaltedly in Japan, where, in addition to being a sport, it is also an art form and a religion.

Playwright Lisa Sanaye Dring valiantly navigates these complex historical currents in Sumo, struggling mightily to stay afloat in the first act before finally relaxing the oars a bit in the second. Dring’s largely self-inflicted difficulties come from a desire to educate, which is not synonymous with enlightening and frequently diametrically opposed to entertaining. Dring pursues the latter two objectives only after trying to help the audience tell its ōzeki (a notch below the sumo hierarchy’s pinnacle) from its rikishi (the generic word for sumo wrestlers), as well as learn oodles more sumo terminology it’s hard to keep straight when entering the theater with sumo knowledge that doesn’t extend beyond the loincloths (mawashi). While that’s a likely burden for a substantial chunk of the audience, it’s a bigger one for Dring whose dialogue gets bogged down in annotative concerns.

Possibly recognizing the problem herself, Dring incorporates a set of humorous Shinto priests (Kris Bona, Paco Tolson, and Viet Vo) as narrators to somewhat free the rest of the characters from their teaching responsibilities. Unfortunately, these three kannushi are underutilized, both in their primary task and in making the most of the actors’ considerable comedic charms. Still, they furnish simplified and fitful guidance through the cloistered realm of sumo, where Akio (Scott Keiji Takeda), an aspiring sumo wrestler (maezumō), is eager to fight his way to the highest level (yokozuna) of the sumo rankings because of life’s great catalyst: a bad mother. Aside from psychological pain and ambition, the kid also has raw abilities, which the wrestlers in Akio’s sumo stable (heya) secretly nurture, even though they’re supposed to treat him as unworthy of doing anything besides menial tasks such as serving their girth-building meals and sweeping the floor.

In classic mythological fashion, a tug-of-war develops for Akio’s soul between two top-drawer wrestlers in the heya: the carnally-inclined Mitsuo (David Shih), an ōzeki who rules the roost through fear, and the sensitive Ren (Ahmad Kamal), a stalwart competitor ranked slightly below Mitsuo but infinitely more respected by the other wrestlers, if not the sport’s sponsors, for his spiritual approach to sumo. Inevitably, the brash Akio picks the wrong mentor with dire consequences for himself and others, before, just as inevitably, realizing the error of his ways and making amends. Though, by that point, much of the damage done is irreversible.

Despite its predictable overarching plot, Sumo, produced jointly by the Ma-Yi Theater Company and La Jolla Playhouse, is never boring. Partly, that’s because, as Mitsuo, Shih is villainously charismatic, portraying the preening bully with the disarming and false sense that there is a method to his sadism. But, even more compellingly, Sumo is an immersive and sumptuous eyeful–no matter your personal predilections for loincloths and bare, overhanging bellies–with a set, props, costumes, projections, and all that glorious sumo hair provided by Wilson Chin, Thomas Jenkeleit, Mariko Ohigashi, Hana S. Kim, and Alberto “Albee” Alvarado respectively. As for the main event, there is certainly loads of cheer-inducing sumo wrestling throughout the play, but it’s the sumo karaoke after the intermission that adds much-needed joy to the proceedings. That exhilarating scene, aided by Paul Whitaker’s vibrant lighting effects mixed with Fabian Obispo’s equally energetic sound design, also offers director Ralph B. Peña the opportunity to let the actors cut loose, at least for a little while.

Otherwise, Dring stays on well-intentioned, dramatically inert message, juxtaposing the toxic masculinity that’s distressingly prevalent in the sumo ring (dohyō), a sacred space women aren’t even allowed to enter, against forms of manliness that are gentle, supportive, and loving. The problem isn’t that Dring fails to depict intriguing examples of these laudable qualities but, rather, that she focuses excessively on the repetitively drawn Akio-and-Mitsuo relationship to the detriment of her noble counterpoints. They include Shinta (Earl T. Kim), a sweet-tempered bow-twirler (a challenge that’s part of sumo) who, following a poor tournament performance, finds a purpose outside the heya; So (Michael Hisamoto), a low-ranked wrestler with tremendous heart, no aptitude for sumo, and an artificial fate; and Fumio (Red Concepción), a middling talent whose practice sessions with Ren have a tendency to emotionally escalate from pushing and throwing to embracing. It’s particularly a shame Dring couldn’t find more storytelling space for Fumio and Ren’s forbidden feelings or simply made Sumo entirely about them. That might have gotten the message across, too.

Sumo (through March 30, 2025)

Ma-Yi Theater Company and La Jolla Playhouse

Anspacher Theater at The Public Theater, 425 Lafayette Street in Manhattan

For tickets, call 212-539-8500 or visit http://www.publictheater.org

Running time: two hours and 20 minutes with one intermission