Review: Expression of Love and Grief through Music in CHIISANA AI NO UTA

On February 20 and 21, 2025, the Japanese Literature major of Universitas Kristen Maranatha held their yearly production. Departing from the usual adaptation of Japanese folktales, this year the students chose to put on an adaptation of Chiisana Koi no Uta, a 2019 movie (which, in turn, was based on a 2008 song by Mongol800).

The show was directed by Jessica Nangoi, a lecturer of Maranatha. The script is written by Jessica Nangoi and Velish Lim, with translation by Samuel Kenryu Antonio (the script is largely in Japanese, accompanied by narration segments in Bahasa Indonesia). Jemima Priscilla Kurniawan also served as the vocal and band coach.

The story of Chiisana Ai no Uta revolves around a band called REST, consisting of four teenagers who attend the same high school in Okinawa. The members include the thoughtful songwriter Shinji (Owen Stanley Hendarto), the hotblooded Ryota (Raymond Mhika Andrian), the jovial Kotaro (Farrel Gunawan), and the quiet yet ambitious Ichika (Naomi Angelina Nicoline). REST has been rising in popularity lately, even getting an opportunity to make their debut in Tokyo from the local music studio owner Nema (Marinus Skotus Adiragusa Siregar).

Tragically, their dreams are shattered when Shinji gets into a traffic accident and passes away. Shinji’s little sister, Mai (Velish Lim), discovers multiple recordings on her brother ’s phone. One of them mentions that Shinji wanted to finish a song he had been writing for Lisa (Florence Dewanto), a foreign girl living in the American military base. Despite her father’s disapproval, Mai, together with Ryota & Kotaro (for Ichika has left to pursue a professional opportunity on her own), tries to finish said little love song to honor Shinji’s final wish.

Throughout the show, the main story is interspersed with conversations between two Japanese living in the distant past: Kuroha (Fridz Octavianta Sitohang) and Kiku (Maria Caitlian Febrianti). These scenes serve as a framing and narrative device, as they’re spoken in Bahasa Indonesia.

Kuroha has just woken up and he recounts his dream to Kiku – the content which just happens to be the main story.

For full disclosure, I don’t speak Japanese. I was sitting next to two of my friends who do speak Japanese. Although the Indonesian narration helps in understanding the bigger picture, there might be nuances or details lost.

The title Chiisana Ai no Uta itself translates to Little Love Song. This title change – from ‘koi’ in the original song and movie to ‘ai’ – is a deliberate decision by the director, Jessica Nangoi. As she explained in her opening speech, although both words mean love, ‘koi’ is more often used for romantic love. By using ‘ai’, she intends for the show to focus on the more universal meaning of love – one that can apply between friends, family, and beyond.

Even without the speech, it is evident that the story wants to treat romantic love – in this case, the budding teenage romance between Shinji and Lisa – as part of the story as a whole, and not let it overtake everything else.

It resulted in a multi-layered and even-handed story that feels true to life. The camaraderie between band members, the often uneasy parent-child relationships, and other forms of connections all intertwine into a tapestry of interconnected lives.

The show spent a considerable portion of its first act building these relationships. Although it could feel slow in the beginning, it was necessary to set the scene for the tragedy to follow. When the accident happened and Shinji died, the story developed into a crescendo of emotions that’s beautiful as it is heartbreaking.

The story derived most of its emotional weight from the harrowing tragedy – Shinji was only a teenage boy, the band was just about to get their big break, and his crush on Lisa was yet unsaid. It’s a powerful depiction of sudden loss and how it changed everyone.

Chiisana Ai no Uta’s most powerful scenes are those depicting the characters trying to deal with their grief in their own, often flawed, ways.

Sometime after Shinji’s death, Ichika leaves the band to pursue professional opportunities, largely disappearing from the story. This decision, although seeming emotionally distant, is an important reminder of what Shinji – and the band REST – lost.

Ichika’s decision contrasts Ryota’s inability to move on. As a close friend of Shinji, and the one who inadvertently caused Shinji’s death, he’s understandably hit the hardest. There are multiple scenes of him just talking with other characters, from Nema, to Shinij’s father, Kotaro, and more, trying to deal with the new reality of his life. These scenes felt raw even with the language barrier, owing to the actors’ measured delivery – sometimes soft and contemplative, and sometimes in loud, severe outbursts – with Raymond Mhika Andrian as the center. He expertly embodied the sense of someone so young grappling with an unexpected loss – he often looked lost and confused, not knowing how to deal with his emotions.

Although Ryota was a thoroughly compelling performance, the most memorable performance to me was by Velish Lim as Mai. Mai is a very intriguing character, as she’s not as overtly emotional as Ryota. Her expressions are minimal and reserved – even before her brother’s death – but Velish’s understated performance still conveys a deep sense of sadness. It makes Mai a thoroughly spellbinding character to follow.

Furthermore, Mai is not a member of REST. She also doesn’t seem like a big fan of the band during their performance at the school. She’s practically an outsider, so we understand just how much courage it takes for her to ask for her brother’s friends to come together and complete the unfinished love song.

And, as the heart of the story, Shinji’s actor Owen Stanley Hendaryo brings a down-to-earth charm to him. He is passionate, but shows it in a calmer, more mature way compared to Ryota. He’s a loving brother to Mai, who – as teenage girls are wont to do – rebukes his affection until it’s too late. These lovable interactions really make his passing hit hard.

The story comes to a climax as Ryota, Kotaro, and Mai finally perform at the school’s festival. They tried to invite Lisa to come, but unfortunately she could not leave the military base whenever she wanted. The three of them continue to play the song with everything they’ve got; it’s as if Shinji were there again with them, singing the song he couldn’t finish in life. As luck would have it, Lisa was out of the base with her parents when she heard the song. She ran away from her parents and watched the performance.

That performance is the cherry on top of the lovingly crafted story that is Chiisana Ai no Uta. It’s a story that isn’t afraid to delve into the darkness that comes with grief, ending in a hopeful message that feels earned instead of hamfisted. It observes the different ways people try to make sense of such a sudden and tragic loss, and how opening up and finally coming together as a community is often an effective way to heal.

The lead performances are solid. For context, the cast members are students of the Japanese Literature major, meaning for most of them it was their first time acting. Despite their relative inexperience, the cast put on a wholehearted, emotional performance that made the story work. At least, that’s my observation as a non-Japanese speaker. My friends noted that some of the cast had better delivery than others – probably depending on their understanding and familiarity with natural Japanese intonation.

What I can comment on without a doubt is the Indonesian narration. As mentioned, the narration came from two characters, with a pre-established semi-romantic relationship. It’s truly charming that the narration is not merely a matter-of-fact reiteration of the story’s plot, as it adds another layer to the story – drawing parallels to the past, a meditation on how some things change and others stay the same.

As a side note, the show also has some lines in English when the Japanese characters are interacting with Lisa. It’s a nice touch that we can tell the characters’  different levels of English fluency; Shinji and Mai (and of course Lisa) speak confident English with relatively clear pronunciation, while Ryota has a thick Japanese accent.

If there’s one criticism about the acting performance, it’s the way the narration is delivered. The intonation too often feels wooden and rehearsed, lacking dynamics – especially compared to the emotional scenes unfolding on the main stage. Although this might be okay for a purely detached narration, it’s quite jarring for dialogues said by actual characters.  Should the team choose to go with a similar direction for their next show, making sure that even the narration has a good flow would make the performance more well-rounded.

While not a musical, Chiisana Ai no Uta also has several music performances, done by the actors themselves. These were largely fine. They were not the most polished musicians, but it made sense considering the context of the story. After the curtain call, there was an encore performance of the song Chiisana Koi no Uta and the crowd loved it, singing together and waving lights from their phones. The energy was undeniable.

Just like the story itself, the artistic design is humble but well-planned. The sets are simple but worked well. The costumes are naturalistic, consisting mostly of school uniforms and casual clothes. The lighting, however, is a stand out. Though there was no fancy lighting equipment, the lighting design made the most out of what was available. The focus is always deliberate, hiding or baring the characters and set pieces as needed. It helps paint the mood as necessary – be it somber or jubilant.

Chiisana Ai no Uta is a practical show. It knows the story it wants to tell and it does so succinctly. It highlighted the right moments and scenes, helmed by the earnest acting and meticulous lighting design. Although it might not have the most polished performances or art production, it doesn’t need those to accomplish greatness. It invites the audience to think about how we can honor those who pass before us. It shows the audience how to move forward, allowing the memories of the departed to become the wind that pushes our sails onward instead of an anchor stopping us in place.

Chiisana Ai no Uta is indeed a little love song. Not only for romance, nor for friendship. It’s a love song for the human spirit that binds us together even in the face of the unthinkable.

Photos by Tobias Yeremia.

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