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REVIEW | Our Cosmic Dust, Park Theatre - London
- Harry Brogan
- Jun 7
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 10
AD | Tickets gifted in exchange of an honest review
TW/CW: This production contains strong language. Also contains themes of death and grief.
Our Cosmic Dust, now playing at the Park Theatre, is a visually captivating and thematically ambitious production that ultimately falters under the weight of its own dual intentions. The story centres on Shotaro, a young boy - represented by a puppet - grappling with the recent death of his father. In a poetic and existential quest, he seeks to understand where his father has gone, asking age-old questions about the afterlife, the soul, and the enduring bonds between the living and the dead.
Running parallel to Shotaro’s journey is the arc of his mother, Yoko, who is frantically trying to find her missing son. Along the way, she encounters a procession of strangers, each marked by personal grief and transformed by their fleeting encounter with Shotaro. This narrative structure creates a web of mourners, each processing loss differently, united only by a shared uncertainty and emotional vulnerability.
The productions central challenge lies in its lack of tonal clarity. With a puppet protagonist and a child’s understanding of death, it often evokes the atmosphere of a children’s show. The exploration of loss is handled in a simplified, almost fable-like manner that might resonate with younger audiences, and yet the inclusion of adult language, mild innuendo, and dense dialogue about constellations are clearly pitched at a more mature audience. The show seems unsure of its target demographic and as a result, ends up caught between audiences, unable to fully satisfy either.
Despite its tonal inconsistency, the cast delivers strong, often affecting performances. Nina Bowers stands out as Tara, a quirky woman Yoko encounters during her search. Bowers shifts between poignant vulnerability and eccentric humour, offering welcome levity. Equally, Hari MacKinnon’s sincere turn as the socially awkward Alastair mourning the loss of his dog is moving.
As Yoko, Millie Hikasa anchors the production emotionally. Hikasa's early scenes are compelling, but as Hikasa's character arc unfolds, Yoko becomes increasingly unsympathetic and by the climax - when she tries to pressure Shotaro to speak to her - the emotional connection wanes. Whether this disconnect stems from translation (this production is adapted by Susan Momoko Hingley from the original Japanese production by Michinari Ozawa,), cultural nuance, or uneven character development is unclear, but it dilutes what should be the play’s emotional centre.
On a technical level, the production is visually stunning. Projections on the back wall are vivid and dreamlike, stylistically reminiscent of a Tim Burton fever dream rendered on an Etch A Sketch. These animated sequences lend real emotional weight to moments where the script falls short. One particularly evocative image - Shotaro running, a flurry of kinetic lines behind him - is both haunting and exhilarating. Narratively, however, the piece feels unmoored. With no clear sense of place or time, the story unfolds in an abstract world, untethered to geography or era, which makes emotional grounding difficult. Greater contextual clarity would lend the characters’ motivations, cultural behaviours and choices more resonant, and allow the emotional beats to land more authentically.
Ultimately, Our Cosmic Dust feels like two plays in one: a child’s metaphysical journey and a mother’s emotional odyssey. Each strand holds potential, but the production needs to centre its vision on one perspective or find a clearer balance between the two. With refinement and a sharper focus on its intended audience, it could evolve into something truly affecting. For now, it remains a thoughtful, visually inventive, but emotionally uneven meditation on grief and human connection.
★★★
Our Cosmic Dust play at Park Theatre until Saturday 5th July.
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